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Slave Academy Ch. 01

By: HippieSlut



I'm standing outside the roadhouse waiting for my ride. I'm one of the two regular go-go dancers there on Friday nights, and the other girl has already left with her boyfriend. The married couple who manage us, get us the gigs and chaperone us are still in the bar sorting out the money, and I'm standing here freezing waiting for them to drive me back to campus.

My name's Pam. I'm 20 years old, a junior at a rural college in a small town in upstate New York. I need to dance to make money for school, and since I'd make a terrible waitress in the cafeteria, this is what I do as a weekend job. It's good money for 1967, 25 dollars a night. If I dance topless, which I sometimes do, I get double, which is phenomenal. The customers like me: I have very long strawberry blonde hair down past my waist, green eyes that can look violet in the right light, a slim build but big, firm tits and a curvy ass, just big enough for a man's hands to grab onto.

It's a good job. Bob and Sue, the managers, make sure nobody bothers the dancers and that we get paid promptly, and they drive us there and back. I've noticed a definite increase in customers on the nights I dance, and even more when I dance topless. I have great tits, if I do say so myself, and I enjoy showing them off. 

When I dance, I usually wear a tiny denim microskirt about eight inches long and a matching skimpy bra, so when I take off the bra I push the skirt down a little on my hips. It has a belt with a big buckle in front with snaps right down to the them, and it fits very tightly, outlining my ass cheeks and ending just below, so if I bend or dip at all I can flash my smooth-shaven pussy or my round rosy lower butt at the customers. Who really appreciate it.

The other dancers are a lot more conservative, and I can tell they think I'm slutty, but I don't care. I get such a rush out of men looking at me like that; if the roadhouse owner only knew it, I'd dance naked if he asked. 

I fantasize sometimes about taking off the bra, then unbuckling the belt buckle and unsnapping the skirt and whipping it off, to stand there completely nude in front of the customers. I bet I'd get more than double pay for that. Sometimes I even fantasize about a man jumping up onstage to throw me down on my back and mount me and rape me right in front of everyone, and after him being held down to be used by a dozen others, hell, by the whole bar.

Anyway, I'm outside now, freezing my tail off in my vintage thrift-shop coat of black rabbit fur. I wear boots for dancing, so at least my feet are sort of warm. I see a car leaving the parking lot, and it looks a lot like Bob and Sue's. Oh, no, they can't have forgotten I'm here, can they? I start to run after the car, and then someone grabs me from behind.

Whoever he is, he's very tall and very strong. He has one hand over my mouth and the other around me, pinning my arms, and he lifts me off my feet and carries me over to a van parked nearby. I'm struggling, but it's no use. He throws me into the van, where another man is waiting. They pin me down with their weight, kneeling on my legs, and my wrists and ankles are tied and then lashed together. Then one of them duct tapes my mouth shut and blindfolds me, and after that I can feel him strapping me securely to the floor of the van so I can't slide around.

The other man gets behind the wheel and starts driving. They haven't said a word to me the whole time, and I'm still stunned. I'm being kidnapped, and there's not a thing I can do about it. We drive for a long time, doubling back and turning a lot, so I have no idea where we're going. I don't hear any other cars, so I'm guessing we're going up into the mountains.

The man still with me in the back of the van begins to feel my tits. I try to cry out in protest, but the tape is tight over my mouth. He laughs, knowing I'm helpless and he can do whatever he wants to me. He runs his hand up under my skirt, along my inner thighs, then squeezes my bare pussy. I try to protest again, but even to me it sounds like arousal. 

And pretty soon it is, as he starts to finger-fuck me. I can feel his finger moving deeper and deeper inside me, then another finger on my clit, and I'm dripping wet by now; his finger slides into me all the way up to his hand. In no time he has three fingers deep in my cunt and his thumb up my ass, too. No one's ever done this to me before, and I'm twisting my hips, trying to escape, but all at once I start thrusting my hips in time with his fingers moving in me, moaning behind the gag.

"Man, she's really hot," he says to the driver. "You should get some of this before we deliver her."

"Just don't shove your cock in her, remember. That's against the rules. She's merchandise now. No mouth, no cunt."

"Yeah, yeah, this is pretty good as is." He continues finger-fucking me, then I feel his hard cock in my hand and I instinctively start pumping it. He comes almost instantly. "Wish I could stuff her for real."

The driver laughs. "You can't afford her. Pretty girl like that, she'll go for a lot of money."

I wonder what they mean; are they going to have people pay to fuck me? Or...something else?

Finally, after what seems like two hours, the van stops, and the guy in back gets out and lifts me out. Carrying me over his shoulder, he enters a building of some sort. I get the impression it's pretty big. He carries me into a room and throws me down onto the floor.

"Delivery as ordered," he says, and I realize he's speaking to someone. They talk indistinctly, and then the door closes and he's gone. I'm lying there on the floor; at least the room is warm. Then I feel someone, no, two someones, untying the ropes on my ankles and wrists. One of them pulls me to my feet and starts taking off my coat.

"Don't try to take off the blindfold or the gag, or we'll have to hurt you, and we don't want to do that," one of them says. "But take off everything else."

I don't dare not obey, so I quickly strip. There's not much to take off: bra, skirt, boots and fishnet stockings with garter belt. When I'm standing there completely nude, one of the men grabs my wrists and fastens them to a rope or chain hanging from the ceiling, while the other spreads my legs and clamps my ankles in cuffs attached to a spreader bar. I hang there helplessly, my toes barely touching the floor, naked in front of them.

I'm trembling now, as they start to run their hands over me, checking me out like a prize filly. They squeeze my breasts, spread my pussy and ass cheeks, feel my thighs. Finally one of them speaks.

"I know you're scared, and you're right to be scared. But just do everything we tell you and you won't be hurt. Just get used to the fact that your old life is over. You've been brought here to be trained as a slave, and when you've been broken and trained you'll be sold. From now on, you're livestock, a piece of merchandise to be bought and sold. You have no name, no rights and no hope of escape. Now I'll let you ask a few questions."

He rips the tape off my mouth and holds a glass of water with a straw in for me to sip. I do, eagerly, and then I find my voice. "Who are you? Why are you doing this? Why me?"

The second man speaks. "You don't need to know who we are. In a little while we'll turn you over to the slavemaster, and he'll arrange for your training to begin. We're doing this for money, of course, and because we think this is how women should be handled. Why you? We saw you dancing at the roadhouse, and your dear managers agreed to let us grab you. They were well paid, of course."

The betrayal stings. "But people will miss me! I have family, friends."

"That's all taken care of. There will be a note left in your dorm room saying you ran away with a guy to the West Coast; enough of your clothes and things will be taken to make it look real. No one will look for you, I promise."

"You can't do this, it's illegal, I'm not a slave, I'm a person..."

"Not for long. Now let's have some information, and you'd better answer truthfully. Are you a virgin? We can check, you know."

"WHAT??...No, no I'm not."

"Good; virgins are a pain to deal with. How many men have had you?"

"Four."

"Orgasms? Do you come easy? Enjoy fucking?"

"Well..." I cry out as a hand is thrust between my legs and fire shoots through me. I hang there trembling, and the men laugh.

"Oh, you're plenty hot, slut. Obviously that's a talented little cunt you have there. Once you've been trained, you'll be a superb whore for sure."

"You can't do this—please—"

"Oh, but we can, and we are, slut. You're a fine piece of ass, and you should bring a good price. We might put you on the block to sell you at auction, every woman should be sold at least once in her life, or else we'll sell you outright to a private buyer. We have a request list from regular clients, individuals and also places like harems or brothels: what kind of slave they want, hair, eyes, build, all that. I'm sure we can find someone who'll be happy to buy you, and if not we have well-attended auctions every two or three months, depending on the supply of merchandise."

Merchandise. That's what I am now. I am going to be trained and sold. I shake my head.

"This is insane..."

A sharp crack across my thighs with what feels like a riding crop. "Don't ever say anything like that again, slut. From now on, you speak only when spoken to and you obey all commands instantly. Understand?"

I don't dare speak, so I just nod.

"Good. Now we're taking you to the slavemaster. He'll be in charge of you from here on in. Good luck, slut. You'll need it."

They snap a steel collar around my neck and lock shackles on my wrists and ankles; a chain is also padlocked around my waist. Clipping a leash to the ring in the collar and chaining my hands behind my back, they lead me down a passage and down some stairs. I'm still blindfolded, so I trip and stumble, but they're careful to help me.

We stop in what seems a small room, and the two men lift me onto a padded table, where I'm stretched out and fastened down under a metal frame until I can't move even a tiny bit. "You're going to be branded now," one of them says. "We always mark our merchandise. It makes it easier to keep track of sales, and it lets you know you're livestock, not a human being anymore."

I scream as I feel the light, searing touch of a branding iron on my left thigh; two or three quick strikes and it's done. I've been branded like the animal they say I am.

After that, they pierce my nipples and navel; they also ring my nose and put a bar over my clit, and rings going down each side of my labia. Finally they put a ring across the entrance to my cunt. 

"This is all so your owner will be able to better control you; he can put chains across your pussy to lace you shut, or a leash in your nose ring to lead you around or keep you still for punishment or use. All women look good with steel in them."

The other guy agrees. I'm in tears, since everything hurts like hell, and he gently brushes them away. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it. All the sluts do. Now we're going to put you in your cage and let your piercings heal up a bit."

I am locked in a cage, and finally they say I can take off my blindfold. They're already gone, I don't see them, only the door down the hall closing behind them. I seem to be in the middle of a row of four or five windowless little cells, but they're empty. I must be the only captive at the moment, or else they keep other slaves apart from newly arrived girls. 

My cage has a low, wide bed, various rings and chains fixed to the wall and ceiling and floor, a little side room with a shower, a bath and a toiler. There's a very small opening in the cage bars down by the floor, where I guess my food will be left for me.

I look down at my new piercings; well, the men were right, I do look good. And the brand, a small neat geometric design, marking me as a slave and an animal, suddenly thrills me. The healing will probably take a week or two, and I guess I'll be kept in this cage for all that time and then start my training.

Wrong again. A man comes in then, and I instantly see that he's no one to cross. He isn't overly tall, but he looks very strong, and his face, though not kind, is strict and honest-looking. I feel an instant desire to please him and more than a little fear of him.

"Welcome, slut. You will address me as Master Marco, and you will kneel in my presence and the presence of any man." He pauses, and I go to my knees immediately. "Good. Now look at me. I am the slavemaster here, and I'll be giving you your first training. I know you have a lot of questions, so for the next three days you may speak freely. After that, slave discipline will be in effect, and if you need to speak you must ask permission. Now speak."

"Master"—I stutter a little, but the word seems to come naturally to my tongue; he notices this, and smiles. "Master Marco, please, is this all real?"

"Oh, it's very real. You were acquired on the recommendation of an old and valued client of ours, who had seen you dance. He may even buy you himself, once you're properly broken and trained. This place is our training school. We've been in business for a long time. It's a big house, a big estate, thousands of acres of woods and fields, no one around. We're deep in the mountains, well off the roads; the nearest house is five miles away. This used to be an old convent, which is why it's so isolated, stone walls and cells and all. Now it's a school to train and sell female pleasure slaves; how's that for irony? I tell you all this so you know there's no hope of escape. The grounds are walled and electrically fenced; there are patrols with dogs; cameras everywhere. No slave has ever escaped from here, and you will not be the one to break that record." 

He smiles again. "I know you don't believe this, but by the time we're done with your training, you won't even want to escape. I promise you, it's true. You'll fight, and you'll be broken, and the harder you fight, the deeper you'll be broken, and the happier you'll be in the end that you surrendered. It's what you were born for: obedience and service to men. Now. You've had a long, hard night so far. Someone will bring you food, I know you must be hungry. And then get a good night's sleep. We'll start your training in the morning. There's a lot to learn and talk about."

He leaves, and as I'm sitting on the bed, staggered and trying to come to terms with this, another man enters with a tray of food, which he slides through the opening in the bars. I wait till he's gone before I tear into it: a steak, a baked potato, salad, a buttered roll, a small square of apple cake, a big glass of milk. Healthy food, and I'm famished. After I clean the plate, I feel better, and I lie down on the bed and try to go to sleep.

But I can't. I'm a slave, I whisper to myself, still staggered by the events of the past few hours. Men are going to train me and sell me and own me and use me. I cry myself to sleep, but a very real part of me is...excited.

Suddenly I wake. The cells are dark now, but someone has come into my cage and is on top of me. "This is how your training starts, slut," growls a deep voice. "You're going to learn that you can be used at any time, by any man who wants you, however he wants to take you." It's not the slavemaster, it's no one whose voice I've heard before, and in the pitch dark I can't see his face. He's naked, with a huge, hard cock, and all I can tell is he's big and strong and he's going to rape me.

He reaches up to attach my wrist shackles to the chains at the head of the bed, pulling me down on the bed, stretching me out. He slips the cunt ring out and doesn't pay any attention to my new piercings, but pushes his knee between my thighs, mounts me, and shoves his cock into my cunt. I scream with the pain of it, but as he begins to thrust in and pull back out, harder and deeper every time, the pain suddenly is overtaken by a building rush of arousal. I want him in me, I want him on me, and I spread my thighs wider to take him deeper.

He forces my mouth open and fills it with his tongue, then tongues my ear, bites my neck, my shoulder, my breasts, tongue moving around my nipple piercings, his teeth tugging on the ring in my nose. I arch off the bed, amazed at what I'm feeling. There's no pain now from the brand or the piercings, just a hot gush between my legs and a weakness spreading over me as I helplessly respond. 

He's moving in me now, our bellies tight together, as I melt under him, eager for him, my knees rising to allow him complete access to my cunt, my hips lifting to him. This is how a woman is supposed to be with a man, how a man is supposed to use her. I feel the skin of his cock sliding against the walls of my cunt, his hardness stretching it out, filling me up. I moan as he settles down into the saddle and begins to ride me hard.

"Well, well, the acquisition team that brought you in said you were a hot little whore, and they were right. You are one great piece of tail, this cunt was made to be fucked. Now come on, slut, scream for me like an animal. You have my permission to speak. Tell me what I'm doing to you."

"You're--you're fucking me..."

"And?"

"You're fucking me, master. Your cock is in my cunt."

"That's right, slut. I'm your master, and my cock is fucking your cunt. Do you like being used, slut?"

"Yes—master. I like being used, master."

"I can tell you do...you're hot and wet and tight, just like a slut should be. Come on, push back harder, that's it. Tell me, slut, what are you here for?"

"I'm a slave, master, I'm your slave. I'm here for you to use. Use me, master, please use me!"

He pounds me harder and faster, thrusting in and staying there, now using only his hips, and I feel a huge bursting wave starting to rise up from my clit. His big cock is deeper in me than anyone who's ever fucked me before, I feel totally possessed by him as he drives into me; there isn't a fraction of an inch of my soaking-wet cunt he doesn't completely fill and own. But he's right: this is what I'm here for...to be used and enjoyed by men, this is my purpose now. Well, if I'm a slave, I'm going to be a damn good one...

I start thrusting my hips back against him, he slips his hands under my shoulderblades and his fingers hook over the tops of my shoulders to my collarbone; he grabs on to me, pulling me down onto his cock as his hips are pushing me up, his teeth set in my neck, gripping me like a mating tiger. 

Nobody's ever fucked me like this; I'm helpless under him, moaning, my arms still chained to the wall. He knows just what to do to me to make me come against my will, and we get off together, his hoarse shout of triumph, my scream as his hot come floods my cunt and I practically explode.

He lies there on top of me, still in me, gives a final few thrusts that make me shake from head to foot, then pulls out of me, slapping me approvingly on the hip. 

"That was terrific. You're a great fuck, pretty animal. You're going to make some lucky man a fantastic slave."

I squirm a little under him, grinding my still-throbbing pussy into him, wanting more. "Thank you...master."

He hesitates, then flips me onto my belly. The straps on my wrists tighten as they cross over, and the pressure of the rings in my flesh stings me, but I don't care as he mounts me from behind and pushes into my pussy again. He drives so hard he almost suffocates me in the sheets, pulling on the chain around my waist to get my ass up in the air, then he pulls out of my cunt and before I can protest he's pushing into my virgin asshole.

"Oh please, master, no, I've never been fucked there..."

"Well, now you're going to be, like the animal you are." He forces his way past the tight ring of muscle and buries his cock in my asshole up to his balls, ignoring my cries of pain and protest, then reaches around and slips three fingers into my dripping cunt. "You like that, slut? You like being filled up like this? Just wait till your real training starts, two and three cocks in you at a time. You'll love it, I promise."


Slave Academy Ch. 01



I'm just about delirious as he slams his dick into my ass. I can feel his fingers moving inside me, as if they're trying to touch his cock through the thin wall of flesh separating my cunt and my ass, his thumb on my clit. He pulls on my hair and my steel collar with his other hand, and I bend my head back obediently in response, so that I don't choke. I scream again as I come, and he laughs and unloads into my ass a few seconds later, collapsing across my back, biting my shoulder.

"You're one prime piece of fuckmeat, my pretty slut. You're going to train up great; we'll find you a master who will really appreciate you, and we'll get a good price for you. Win-win."

He slaps me on the ass and rolls me onto my back; I'm so exhausted I can't move below the waist, I'm shaking like a leaf. I've never been reamed like this before; but this is how slaves are used, I see that now, so I'd better get accustomed to being fucked by real masters, real men; the guys I'd been with would never have dared to do me the way this man just did. He'd taken me as if by right, as if I were just a piece of property he could do with as he pleased. That's what it means to be a slave.

Unbelievably, my cunt is still throbbing hard, aching to be filled again, and I lift my hips to him, writhing on the bed against my restraints, mouth open, mutely begging.

He laughs, knowing I want him to fuck me again, but he kisses me on my bare and swollen mound, flicks my clit bar with his tongue, leaves me chained to the bed and locks the cage door behind him. 

When he's gone, I have no trouble falling asleep, even chained. I've been taken by force and used hard, and I enjoyed every minute of it. This is my life now, and tomorrow my training begins. But tonight...tonight I took my first step to becoming a slave.

And I like it.



To be continued...if you want...



Slave Academy Ch. 02



I wake up with a start. Someone is standing over me...I'm chained to a low bed...how did I get here... what the hell happened...Then it all comes back to me with a slamming rush. I was kidnapped last night and brought to this place, this training school for slaves. I'm to be trained and sold. And last night, as my first lesson in slavery, I was used by force, cunt and ass both.

I don't move, but look up at the man standing over me. It's not Master Marco, the slavemaster who told me he would be conducting my training, but a man I haven't seen before. He jerks his head for me to get up, but says nothing. I am a little slow getting to my feet, since I'm a bit stiff from use and my wrists are still chained to the wall, and he gives me a cut with the riding crop he carries because I don't move fast enough, as a slave should. I remember my instruction from last night, and go to my knees beside the bed, in front of him, my arms strained behind me in the cuffs and chains.

This seems to please him. He reaches behind me and unlocks my wrist cuffs from the wall chains, then fastens them to the chain around my waist, snaps a leash on the ring in my collar and leads me over to the bathroom. He allows me to relieve myself, then pushes me into the shower and cleans me thoroughly. Before my piercings last night, I had been depilated of all hair below the neck; he checks to see how the piercings are, how the brand looks. 

Then he dries me off, rubs oil over my skin until I gleam, and gives me a bowl of food for breakfast, soft sautéed potatoes and scrambled eggs, very hot. I'm hungry, and I wolf it down. Then he tugs once on the leash and leads me out of my cell and down the hall. I follow obediently after him, trying to keep up with him but still remain behind him, instinctively. To my shame and also my delight, I find that being led like an animal turns me on. I'm the property of men now, and they can do whatever they want to me.

"You'll be taught to heel your master properly, animal," he says over his shoulder, the first words he's spoken. "Among other things. But not bad for now. You're a pretty little piece of tail. Move along."

I'm led into a small room with mirrors all around and thick mattresses on low platforms. Master Marco smiles at me. "Good morning, slut. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, master, thank you."

"I had a very good report of you from the man who used you last night. He tells me you're hot and responsive, and that he used your ass for the first time."

"Yes, master."

"How did you enjoy him?"

I blush a little. "Master, he was...he used me very well."

"Most men don't know how to use a woman properly, let alone how to use a slave. Now you: as I said last night, you're a natural slave: you're submissive by nature. You want to please and serve men, you want men to use you for their pleasure, because their pleasure is your pleasure. Your training will be conducted along those lines. Once you're sold, you'll be used whenever your owner wants a piece of ass; you're the piece, and it's your ass, or cunt, or mouth, that will be used. Whether you're ready for it or not. And you'll love it."

I stare at him; how could he know? He laughs, not unkindly. "I've been training sluts since before you were born, little animal. I know a natural slave when I see one, and I know what she wants. Now, let's get started on those slave positions. The quicker you learn, the sooner you'll be broken in."

He snaps my leash. "Now, stand in front of me. " As he orders me to, I immediately spread my feet about eighteen inches apart and link my fingers behind my neck; my breasts lift and jut forward, my chin is up, my eyes cast down.

"Excellent. This is 'Display' posture. Now,the imagination is just as important as the body. Imagine yourself being viewed by possible buyers. There's a buyer for a Mideast prince who likes to own Western women; the supervisor of a corporate harem in Singapore, where the girls are exquisitely trained to please company clients; the foreman of an oil rig in the North Sea, who is here to pick out girls to stock the platform, to keep his men happy; a woman who runs a whorehouse on the Mexican border; the captain of a fishing fleet, who wants a ship's whore to service the crew and himself; a few private clients who are looking for a well trained and hot personal slave. Does this excite you to think about?"

"Yes, master." No lie: I'm dripping wet at the thought of all these buyers examining me, deciding what they'd be willing to spend for me, being owned by one of them...

"Your training will probably take a month or two. It depends on how quick a study you are, how fast we can break you, and also on how we decide to train you. A run of the mill slut for general use, say in a truck stop whorehouse, has a lot less to learn than a pleasure slave destined for private ownership. But we don't generally sell low-class sluts here; our clients are all wealthy and discriminating purchasers who can afford and expect the best quality. Now you—you have talents as a dancer, so we'll work on those. And as a college girl, you're obviously not stupid. Many masters prefer their slaves to be intelligent and well educated; they find them more interesting, and also it's more enjoyable keeping a girl like that under full slave discipline."

"Master, may I speak?"

He smiles. "Of course. These first few days you may ask as many questions as you like. After that, you'll only speak when spoken to."

"Thank you, master. The man who used me last night that I was a great fuck, a talented piece. I never thought I was."

"Well, you are; take our word for it. I see from your information sheet that you haven't been used by many men yet, but I promise you, the men who will use and train you here know how to get the best out of you. You'll find yourself becoming more responsive every day, as you're trained to respond exquisitely to any man's command; that's what being a slave is all about. You're a hot little animal, and we'll work with that. Just because one man buys you doesn't mean he'll be the only man to use you. He may decide to offer you to a friend or business colleague, for the night or just for a quick fuck, and he'll expect and require you to please that man as thoroughly as you please him, your master and owner. Or several men at a time, or a woman, even. Your training will take all this into consideration. You'll submit, or you'll suffer."

That first day, I learn basic positions. I already know to drop to my knees when a man entered the room, and I'm taught many postures. I have already seen that it's useless to struggle against this; there's no way out and I would do best to resign myself to my new life as quickly as possible.

"On your knees, animal. Rest your ass on your heels a bit more. Back arched, tits out, hands on your thighs; good. This is the basic position, you'll spend most of your time in it, beside a master's chair. When a man snaps his fingers, this is the position you'll go to. Immediately. When you enter a room at your owner's summons, most men like a slave to prostrate herself. So, bend over, put your forehead to the floor, arch that back, ass in the air. Now, arms on the floor in front of your head, make a triangle and touch your forehead to your hands. You will assume that position in your master's presence, and not break it until commanded otherwise. If your owner wants you to take this position from another position you're already in, he will say 'Down!" and that's the position you will immediately assume. Now, on your back..."

I go onto my back on the low platform bed; he puts the riding crop between my legs and indicates that I should spread my thighs. "Hands at your sides, legs open. This is called 'Present!" , as in 'Present yourself for fucking, slut.' If your master wants your knees raised, or some other variation, he'll command you. Right, on your belly, now..."

He teaches me half a dozen more positions, then he runs me through them, going fluidly from one to the other, until I can flow like a panther between them.

"Not bad. Now I want to see you perform for myself." I am panting with exertion, and I catch my breath at the sight of the man who comes into the room in response to a pressed buzzer.

"This is Master Vincent, one of our training captains," says Master Marco. "See what she can do."

Master Vincent snaps his fingers and I instantly assume the kneeling posture. "Present!" he commands, and I spread myself on my back, trembling. He takes off the tunic he wears and is naked under it. He's a tall, handsome blond, muscled all over, and his uncut cock, already stiffening, is huge.

I'm not chained, but I know I have to hold my position. He kneels between my open thighs and feels my slit. "Wet already," he comments, and Master Marcus takes notes. Master Vincent slides a finger into my cunt, runs it over my clit, and my hips arch up toward him. "Drew was right, she's a natural," he says smiling, and mounts me, guiding his hard member deep into my cunt. The rings don't hurt so much today, and I can feel his balls pressing on them as he begins to fuck me.

"Arms around me, slut," he orders, and I eagerly encircle him, and, as ordered, lock my legs around his thighs. He settles into me and begins slowly thrusting in and out. My smooth pussy and swollen clit, still a little sore from the piercings, begin to fall into his rhythm. He rams as deep into me as he can get, then pulls out, the head of his dick just at my dripping entrance, waiting until I beg him to fuck me, then he forces my jaws open and I take his cock inside my mouth, tasting my own juices on it.

I haven't done oral sex very much, and he doesn't instruct me, wanting to see how instinctive I find it. I suck gently on his shaft, running the tip of my tongue up it to the slit at the top, using my lips to softly nibble at him, flicking my tongue up and down his shaft like a snake's, taking his balls in my hand to gently massage them. He comes in a matter of moments, spilling his fluid down my throat. I choke on it a little, trying to pull my head back, but he holds my head still and my mouth closed around him until I get it all down.

He orders me to suck his cock and get him hard again, then he pulls me up and drives into my dripping slit in one long forceful stroke. He slips his arms under me, lifting me a little from the mattress, and we rock together as he fucks my cunt in long slow movements. He's really skillful: his cock is even bigger than the man's who fucked me last night, and he keeps up a running commentary to Master Marcus.

"Tight, very tight; good muscle tone in her cunt, we'll start her on kegels to tighten her up even more. She's got a real dancer's body, soft but flexible." He takes my ankles and puts them on his shoulders, to gain deeper access to me, then bends my legs at the knees, almost up to my ears. "Quite the talented little fucktoy we have here...when she's trained she'll be superb."

He drives harder, pumping into me, my belly quivering against his. I cling to him and ride with his motion, and feel my orgasm rising up. It hits like a ton of bricks: I scream with it and lie there trembling as he finishes in me and pulls out of my pussy. His cock is covered with my juices and his come, and he orders me to lick it off. I clean him off as he commands me, and lie there waiting further orders.

Master Vincent confers with Master Marco, out of my hearing, then, hard again, he flips me onto my belly and rips into my ass with one powerful push. I'm not ready for this, and I cry out. "Please, master, you're hurting me, please don't..."

He slaps me on my ass and the side of my thigh, then pulls me up onto all fours, my head and arms resting on the mattress, my ass in the air, my legs spread wide. "You were not given permission to speak, animal. So now you'll be fucked like one."

He pulls back on my hips, spearing me deep, and grabs my wrists, pulling my arms behind my back. 

Then another man, one I didn't even know was there, slides under me, and Master Vincent lowers me onto the second man's cock. They close their bodies on mine until I can barely move, and they begin thrusting, one in, one out. My ass is being reamed, and my cunt too, as they shift from alternate thrusting to pushing into me at the same time. I cry out, delirious with sensation: two enormous cocks in me at once, bigger than any cock I've ever had.

Again I come in a big way, feeling them inside me, and they unload into my cunt and ass and pull out. I lie there gasping, dripping come and my own wetness, unable to move. I feel a gentle pat on my ass; it's Master Marco.

"Very nice, slut. For your first time being double-teamed, and by surprise, you did very well. We'll try again this afternoon with a cock in your mouth as well, and one in each hand. I don't want to wear you out too much your first day; training is a gradual process. But I think you've earned your lunch."

I'm led back to my cell, where a tray is waiting for me on the floor: tomato soup, a couple of pieces of sole, some rice and vegetables. I'm obviously being trained on a healthy diet; not that I need to lose weight, there is very little fat on me, only a bit in my belly, where men seem to like softness. I'm concave between my hipbones when lying on my back, and the men who've fucked me before I came here really liked the balance between soft belly and sharp hipbones.

I'm allowed to rest for a couple of hours, then yet another trainer comes and fetches me. This time I'm led to a large room set up with rings and hooks hanging from the ceiling, rings set into the wall, pieces of padded furniture. 

I struggle at the sight of this, but they force me where they want me to go. For the next two hours, I'm strapped to the benches or into the frames, sometimes whipped, hung from the ceiling rings like the piece of meat I am, set into clamps on the walls so that I'm off my feet and can't move. Different men use me in all these positions until again I'm too exhausted to move.

Master Marco orders me released and tells me to crawl behind a trainer back to my cell. I obey, as I have all along, but I am starting to feel a little angry and a little rebellious...they all talk about me being broken, like the natural slave I am. Maybe it's time I fought back...

to be continued...for your pleasure?



Slave Academy Ch. 03



I go to sleep in my cage that night, my mind and body in a turmoil. On the one hand, I want desperately to be fucked some more, on the other I'm panicking and trying to figure out a way to escape. It finally has started to sink in, what has happened to me, what's being done to me, and though at first I found it arousing, now I just want to get out of here and run far, far away, back to my old life.

But would anyone even believe me, if I even managed to get away? Would anyone help me? I think I was too stunned up till now to really comprehend the full situation, and I obeyed orders out of survival instinct. 

But now, well fucked, weary but well fed, it's finally dawned on me. I've been kidnapped. I've been collared and shackled and branded and pierced. I've been raped in my cunt and my ass and my mouth. I've been used by over a dozen men. I've been whipped and caged. I'm being trained as a slave and I'm going to be sold at auction. Unless I do something about it, my life as I knew it is over. Escape is my only chance. These men will be ruthless with a slave who tries and fails, I'm sure of that. So I have to succeed.

I lie awake a long time, considering. I won't have a chance unless they take me outside, of course, and I wonder how likely that is to happen. Maybe later in my training, they might let me out in the sun to exercise...but Master Marco said that the nearest house was almost five miles away. A long way to run naked. And there are guards, and dogs... They might take me out in public, to shops or someplace, as part of the instruction: if my future master ever wishes me to accompany him out in public, I will need to know how to behave so as not to arouse suspicion. Maybe that might be my chance, if they do that...

I fall asleep finally, still contemplating possible strategies for escape...and in my dreams I'm free again...

Again in the night, a trainer comes in and mounts me in the dark. I should be a bit better accustomed to this by now, but I've been dreaming of freedom and he takes me, literally, by surprise. Suddenly furious, I fight back with all my strength, and I hear him laugh.

"That's the spirit, little slut! It won't do you any good, but fight all you want. In the end, you'll be well broken, just like they all are." 

He seems to want to overpower me by his own strength alone, as he doesn't hook my shackles to any of the chains. Instead, he forces his knee between my thighs and pushes them open, while pinning my wrists over my head with one hand. I twist and heave under him, trying to throw him off me, but with his other hand he teases my pussy and clit, and then guides his hard cock to the entrance of my cunt.

I'm not wet yet, and it hurts as he pushes into me, the head of his cock pulling painfully at my dry cunt lips then popping inside me, but he takes his time, a half inch at each slow grind of his hips. Finally he's all the way in, deep and full, enjoying me squirming against him futilely, and he lays all his weight on me, pushing my legs wider open with his own, to get full access to me.

"You're just wasting your energy, slut," he says, holding me still under him with his full weight, beginning to slowly thrust and pull out, then thrust in again. "But it feels good to have you fight me. There's a good little animal...that's right, struggle all you want. It just turns me on even more."

With horror I realize that my vain struggles are turning me on too, big time; I'm dripping wet. He's got me impaled on his cock, right up to his balls pressing against my smooth lips, my thighs spread wide by him, and he holds me there a while, to let me realize how helpless I am. Then as he starts to slowly thrust into me again, deep and smooth, not pulling out or back, but just driving forward to fill my cunt with his cock, my hips start rising to meet his motion, my cunt walls tightening around his thick member.

He laughs again. "Come on, slut, move it faster... you're one hot piece of ass, all right...that's it..." 

I moan helplessly as I feel myself starting to come. My clit is on fire, and he increases his pace, staying as deep as he can in me as I buck and arch under him, locked to him. Then he scoops me up, both his arms under me, and my own arms lock across his muscled back as he sinks his teeth into my neck. 

He plunges as deep into me as he can get with each push of his hips; I'm wild for him by now, clutching at his driving ass to push him further in. We rock together for a dozen more thrusts, faster, more urgent, then I scream as I'm flooded by his hot come and my own overpowering climax. He pushes into me as hard and as far as he can, holds me motionless until he's pumped himself dry, then relaxes on top of me. I'm still gasping for breath, and my cunt is still throbbing.

That's one of my favorite parts of fucking. I love it all, of course, but when the man and I have both come really hard, I love it when he stays in me and on me for a few moments. It makes me feel totally female. Not feminine. Not womanly. Female. Big difference. 

There's a reason why female orgasms are so exhausting that the helpless girl can't move after her user makes her come: it keeps her from running away, so that the man can fuck her again and again. Or so other men can use her, if they want to and if he lets them. I've learned that over the past few days.

I lie panting under him, his weight on me, my breathing and heart rate getting calm again, and finally he pulls out of me, flips me onto my belly and slaps me on the ass. "Nice job, slut." I can hardly move below the waist, so when he starts slicking up my asshole with our juices, I don't even fight back. He pins my wrists behind me, pulls my waist chain to get my ass in the air, and shoves a pillow under me.

I lie there waiting for him to shove his cock in, but instead he starts caressing and licking my ass, his fingers working my cunt and clit. "Just think, animal, only a day ago no man had ever done anything like this to you."

"No, master."

"And do you like it?"

"Does it matter?"

He laughs and I feel the head of his magnificent cock poking at my asshole; I lift my hips a little higher, presenting to him like the animal he calls me. "Not a bit. You'll be trained to perform perfectly whether you enjoy it or not, of course. You'll undoubtedly enjoy it, if I'm any judge of fuckmeat. But really you'll have no choice. You'll be used and you'll respond; it's the way women are made. But I think you enjoy it just fine, don't you, having men use you like the little fucktoy you are, right?"

"...Yes!"

"Yes what?" He slams his cock deep into my asshole, and I scream as he buries himself in me up to his balls.

"Yes, master!"

His fingers are moving deep inside my now-dripping cunt and his arms are holding me completely motionless as he rides my ass, and I feel my orgasm beginning to build again. I seem to have no control over coming: it's all according to what the man wants. Any man. I'm realizing that I'm being conditioned to respond to the male will, and I tense up, remembering my own will—my plan to escape—and I lie motionless, refusing to cooperate.

He seems to sense this, because suddenly he wraps a leather strap around my collared throat and pulls back. "This is how masters control bitches, little slut! Bitches that they're fucking like animals." 

He fastens the end of the strap around my wrists and I'm helpless, hands bound and his cock deep in my ass, while he now has both hands free to maul me mercilessly. He cups my breasts and kneads them hard, then one hand goes back down to my swollen clit while the other plays with my nose ring. 

"You really are just livestock now...you've even got a ring in your nose, like a pig, like a cow...you're collared like a dog and branded like a mare... But you're a prime piece of twat, honey...pretty soon you'll have no will of your own left, nothing but the will to obey your masters. You're a slave now; get used to it."

I'm practically fainting now, as the strap alternately chokes me then allows me a gasp for breath. His expert fingers, working my clit hard, bring me off screaming again and his cock explodes in my ass at the same time. I collapse, and he pulls out of me. He leaves me with my hands bound behind me, and locks the cage door after him. I lie there, exhausted, a slave who's been well used by a master, still gasping for breath.

It's another lesson. Men now control me, and there's nothing I can do about it. But as I lie there, that little spark of rebellion rises up again. I'm going to do what I have to, to survive, but I'm also going to resist just as hard as I can—and I'm going to get away. Master Marco said no slave ever had and I wouldn't be the one to succeed. Well, maybe we'll just have to see about that...

The next morning, I'm wakened by a trainer I haven't seen before, who tells me his name is Master Joss. He unties my hands and removes the strap from around my neck, and helps me sit up. He hooks his fingers in my collar and leads me to the bathroom, where I clean myself up. When I come out and go to my knees in front of him, there's a tray of breakfast on the floor for me. I am so hungry, but I know to wait for permission to eat.

"I hear you had a busy night, slut," he says, smiling, pleased with my obedience. He gestures me to eat.

"Yes, master; thank you, master," I answer him, and start devouring the hot food.

"Today we start your training in service. Your primary function as your owner's slave of course is pleasuring him sexually, and you have a good start on that. But there's a lot more for you to learn."

He's right about that. That morning I'm led to a large, sunny training room, equipped with all sorts of furniture: low chairs, upholstered chairs, dining tables, tables low to the floor, cushions. I begin to learn how to serve properly at all these places: a snack, a drink, a full meal, for one or two or a dozen. 

I'm taught to lean alluringly as I hold trays with food or drinks, to kneel by a master's chair and offer him refreshment, to brush his arm or head with my breasts. I'm there to serve, however he wants me: I practice over and over, until I can perform the motions smoothly and gracefully. A break for lunch, and the afternoon is devoted to how a slave approaches her master.

"Some masters like slaves on their bellies, some want them on hands and knees, some require them to kneel and await orders. It all depends. You have to learn it all, and then the man who buys you will instruct you as to his own wishes."

This afternoon, I'm in a small teaching room; there's a padded post in the center of the room, which I am ordered to approach as I would a man. I'm being instructed by the first woman trainer I've met so far, Mistress Zara. She's tall and dark-haired, with strong eyebrows and jaw. Not one to play games with or try to disobey. Like all the other trainers, she carries a whip fastened to her belt. She rests one hand on it as she speaks.

"You will obey me, slut, or you'll be punished. Now, tell me, what do you want right this minute?"

I hesitate, and she frowns. "—Mistress, I want a man to fuck me."

She smiles. "Now that wasn't so difficult to say, was it. Of course you want a man to fuck you! You're learning that you're slave meat. You've been getting used to being used the past two days and nights; you like the feeling of a cock in your cunt and your ass. Am I right?"

I lower my head in shame. "Yes, Mistress."

"You have nothing to be ashamed of. You are simply what you are: a lovely girl who's being trained to be a man's perfect slave and hot enjoyment. You haven't been fucked at all yet today, have you?"

"No, Mistress."

"Which is how you learn that you exist for a man's pleasure, not he for yours. You might be used ten times a day, or not for a month. You must learn to have no expectations except what happens to you and what you are commanded. That's all that concerns you, all you should be thinking about: to be ready to obey a man's will. You're going to be sold soon, and it's my business to make sure you're a good product and advertisement for this place when you are. Your will is already breaking, I can see it; you're a natural slave, and you enjoy the feeling of being mastered and owned and commanded. But you also feel that you owe it to your self-respect to resist, to fight back. You'll stop thinking like that very soon now. But that resistance is the mark of a superb slave in the making. In the end, men will impose their mastery on you, as they've branded you and collared you and pierced you, but you'll impose slave obedience on yourself."

I look up, unable to stop myself. "You're very kind, Mistress."

She laughs. "When kindness is the way to ensure cooperation. When it isn't...well, you'll learn that too, I'm sure. All slaves do, sooner or later. Now, stand up. Address yourself to the post. Show me how you seduce a master who's not quite in the mood for you yet and needs to be persuaded."

I approach the post, twining one leg around it, pushing my naked body into it, rubbing up against it, caressing it. Then I slip down it, to crouch at the base, kissing and licking in total submission. 

"Not bad. Let's see how you do with a real man."

She presses a bell, and a few minutes later a man comes into the room: tall, well muscled, wearing a slave tunic open at the chest; it's short enough to show glimpses of his cock and balls, which seem prodigious. Like me, he is collared, branded and wears shackles at wrists and ankles.

"This is one of our male training slaves," says Mistress Zara. "He's being trained to please a woman buyer, so this is a lesson for him as well as for you."

He stands there as stiff as the post; I am to get him even stiffer, according to my instructress's command, and it doesn't take long at all. I twine myself around him, my hands moving down his front to his cock, around to his iron-hard ass, slipping inside the front-slit tunic to caress his chest. He is ordered not to move, not to help me. I kiss his chest, then go gracefully to my knees in front of him and lift the edge of his tunic.

He moans as my fingers wrap around his hardness. I open my mouth for him and take his cock in my mouth and begin to gently suck it. It's already fully erect, huge and hard. My tongue flicks against the hole at its tip, and my lips nibble up and down his shaft. He's circumcised—not all the men who've used me here are—and my tongue and lips circle the ridge of flesh ringing the head of his dick. He begins thrusting into my mouth as I lick and suck him, and at Mistress Zara's order he holds my head tight against him with both hands wound into my long hair.

I feel him sliding down my throat, slowly, carefully, so I don't gag on his length and massive width. Finally his balls are up against my face, right against my nose ring, and he thrusts down my throat with long, slow, steady strokes until he comes, by the instructress's permission, unloading down my throat. He pulls out, and I am ordered to clean him off with my tongue and get him hard again, which doesn't take long.

Mistress Zara is pleased with us both, and orders me to the floor on my back and allows him to use my cunt, which he does eagerly and very forcefully, and I come several times under him. 

Finally we're both exhausted, and with our mistress's praise we're both led back to our cages. Maybe I'll see him again, I think; maybe he'll fuck me again. I'd like to ride him, me on top, leaning forward, moving up and down on his hard cock as he pushes up into me from underneath...anyway, it was a nice reward for both of us.

My chance for escape comes sooner than I expect. Ten days after my capture, Master Marco puts me on a leash and takes me outside for some time in the sun. It's a beautiful warm day, with a cool breeze, so he gives me the first clothing I've been permitted: a short soft tunic, front-slit to my navel, cut high on both sides to barely cover my ass and smooth mound. 

We walk for a while through the grounds, which I've never even seen before. It looks like a college campus, rolling hills and woods all around, and he tells me a little about its history.

We stop every now and then for Master Marco to greet other trainers, and, obedient to my instruction, I kneel whenever he stops, the rest of the time heeling him behind his left side, or walking in front at his command so he can criticize and improve my movement. At last we stop under a tree. He smiles and gestures to the deep grass.

"Sit, little slut." This is a great privilege, to be allowed to sit in a master's presence; usually slaves must kneel. I go gracefully to a seated position, careful to keep good posture. Master Marco smiles again and ruffles my hair, then begins idly playing with my cunt rings.

"You've come along nicely, pretty animal. We expected you to, of course, but you're doing very well."

"Thank you, master." I feel a rush of pride at his words: he's the slavemaster, after all, and for him to praise me so is a great thing. I feel a rush of desire at his touch, too, and my pussy is already dripping; he notices this, and laughs, moving his finger inside my slit. I can tell he has no intent to use me now, though; he's just casually fondling me, the way a man would do with a dog or cat sitting beside him.

"We'll start putting you in classes with other slaves in training tomorrow. You'll need to know how to get along with other slave girls if your future master owns more girls than just you. Also I want to start training you to pleasure women as well as men. We have many more male than female clients, but you need to know all forms of submission; your master might have a wife or a companion or another slave girl he'd like to see you with, so you'll be trained to please females. I'm very pleased with you: you're eager and you're hot, and you show good submission and obedience. We still haven't decided how you'll be sold, privately to a client's wish list or publicly at auction. But there's still time."

We sit there for a while in the warm sun and wind. Soon I see that Master Marco has fallen asleep. Could this be a test? Or my chance to escape? The woods are only a hundred feet away... I move around a little, even, darinly, touch his cock, but he doesn't stir. Asleep, then. Carefully I slip the leash out of his fingers, gather it up and tuck it into my waist chain.

Okay, then. This is it. I take a deep breath, look around. No other trainers in sight. Standing up, I move carefully away from the sleeping slavemaster, then I bolt like a racehorse for the trees, heading through the woods alongside the road that runs in from the highway. I have a long way to run, but exercise and diet have worked on me over the past three weeks, and my energy level is high. If only I can get out to the main road...there might be a passing car whose driver would help me...

I hear no sound of pursuit as I race for the road, nothing except the sound of my bare feet on fallen leaves. I run hard, not daring to look back...

to be continued, if masters and mistresses wish...



Slave Academy Ch. 04



Chapter 04: Recapture

I run through the woods, sobbing, my side aching, heading toward the road. I know the slave academy compound is fenced and gated, but if I'm very lucky, maybe I can manage to slip through the gates when a car comes through. Maybe they won't see me...and I'll be on the road and free!

As it turns out, the gates stand wide open. I can hardly believe my luck, and glancing behind me to check that there's still no pursuit, I run through the gates and onto the road. 

There's a car coming, another incredible piece of luck, and I frantically wave my arms to get it to stop. It's a police car! Better and better...besides, who's not going to stop for a practically naked girl desperate in the middle of a road in the woods, her tita hanging out, bare ass and pussy right there to be seen?

The cop car stops, and the driver gets out. In uniform, he's tall, strong, with brown hair on the long side for a policeman, and he looks at me with horror and concern. 

"My God, miss! What happened to you?"

He puts an arm solicitously around me and leads me to the back door of the police car, a station wagon painted in local cop colors. I clamber inside and sit trembling on the back seat, and he gets in beside me. He looks at the leash still attached to my collar, at my almost-naked body—well, how could he help himself—and puts an arm around me again.

"I—they—kidnapped me—to be a slave—" I lean against him, so weak with relief I can barely move or speak or think.

"Well, you're safe now," he says, and lets me calm down a bit. I manage to stop trembling after a minute or two; but then...

I stare in shock as the cop pulls my hands above my head before I can react, locking them in a set of handcuffs fastened to the back of the seat, and slips my ankles into those loops you use to help pull yourself out of the seat. 

I'm too stunned to resist at first, then I fight back, but he's too strong and I have no room. In no time he's got me helpless, spread-eagled in the back seat space. He positions himself between my open legs, facing me, and grins as he ties off my leash to a metal corner of the seat back.

"This is one of the perks of turning a blind eye to their operation," he says. "A little treat for me, a little lesson for the runaway. You're not the first slave-in-training to try to escape; but you really didn't expect not to be recaptured and punished, did you?"

He gets back into the driver's seat, turning the car off the road and down a logging lane to a leafy clearing deep in the woods, where we're completely screened from view. Whatever he's going to do to me, no one will see or hear it. Before he gets out of the driver's seat, he moves the seat as far forward as it can get, to give the rear seat as much space as poissible.

As he rejoins me in the back of the car, I try to twist away from him as his hands leisurely rip off the slave tunic and begin exploring my slim, soft body, but there's no give in the cuffs or straps. I'm held perfectly for him to do whatever he wants to me, for as long as he wants.

I feel his fingers trail over my smooth bare mound, toying with the steel rings I'm wearing there, then he begins pushing back my clit hood to play with my glistening pearl, already beginning to swell. Involuntarily, I moan at the sensitive touch, and he laughs.

"I see your training has been effective so far," he says, and his finger slips down to circle my moist opening. Then he lowers his head between my legs, and starts to eat me out. He nibbles and licks my inner lips, biting gently. His tongue flicks at my clit, then along the swelling nerve path leading upward. He draws my clit into his mouth; my clit is twice its usual size now, and throbbing, and he keeps his mouth working it as his index finger slides into me and begins to move around inside, then a second finger. 

With his other hand, he works my tits, pinching my nipples, flicking the steel rings. Then he unzips his pants and brings out his cock; shifting his position, he kneels astride me on the seat to bring it to my face.

He forces my jaws open and stuffs his member into my mouth. "No teeth," he warns, "or I'll have to hurt you. And report you, which will make what you're going to get when I bring you back even worse. So, let's see how well you suck dick, slave."

He leans forward, and his thick cock goes deeper into my mouth. I moan, I can't help it, he's nice and big, and I've been well trained. I begin to use my tongue on him, flicking the hard ring of flesh that circles the head of his penis, then I move my lips on his shaft, nibbling, drawing him in. 

He grunts as he slides in deeper and begins to fuck my throat, with long, slow thrusts of his hips, his hands behind my head, pushing me against him until his balls are crushed against my face. The leash holds my head still, and the collar presses against my neck.

It doesn't take him long, either because of his readiness or the job I'm doing; he unloads, and I swallow as I've been taught. But he doesn't pull out of my mouth, and he hardens up again almost at once as I suck him now to clean him up, swirling my tongue around his thick shaft.

"Very nice, slut." He shifts position again, and now his cock, still wet from my mouth, is pushing at my dripping slit, just the head poking inside me. "You're a hot little package, and you're going to make some lucky man a fantastic slave."

In one thrust he's all the way in, filling me up. He's of average length but above average thickness, and he stretches my cunt out just as he'd filled my mouth. He pulls out a little, enjoying my helpless moans of protest, then slams deep into me again. 

I feel his hard swollen cock moving against my soft, slick pussy walls, skin against skin. This is how a man is supposed to fuck a woman, how a woman should be fucked by a man. He should have her naked under him, just like I am now, legs spread wide, tied down to be used as he pleases. He's slamming into me as hard as he can; we're both gasping with the force.

"Oh yeah, you're a natural, honey..." 

My hips are moving in time with his thrusts, and his hands are mauling my breasts. Pinned on the seat, I'm perfectly positioned for him to have complete access to me, all the way up my aching cunt, and now his hands are cupping my ass, pulling on my waist chain, forcing me up off the seat and against him as he rams into me. He's pressing hard on my clit, the hood is sliding back and forth, and I'm wild with excitement as our hips lock to each other and our rhythm gets faster.

"Oh, master..." I moan, uncontrollably, and I writhe against him, feeling his cock as tight and deep in me as it can get, driving all the way in, not an inch of my cunt he doesn't dominate, and I yield to the motion of his powerful pushes. 

He gives a hoarse cry as he comes in me, his hot juice flooding my cunt, and I scream as my climax hits and leaves me trembling, waves of delicious feeling pulsing outward from my throbbing pussy.

He relaxes and pulls out of me, leaning back against the rear of the front seat, breathing hard. "Outstanding," he says, smiling down at me, hands stroking my shivering inner thighs, fingers brushing the gleaming sweat from my quivering belly and heaving breasts. "But now let's try something a little different..."

He takes out his nightstick from a door pocket, and I shrink away. 

"Oh, no, please, master, not that!"

"Shut up, slut." 

He reaches to one side, and lets down the back seat to make an open flat space, lifting my body and positioning it further back. Now he can spread me out completely; the tension on ankles and wrists and throat holds me unable to move as he inches forward to lay on top of me, his clothed weight atop my naked body.

"Oh yeah, that's better, I'm not finished with you yet. And you have to learn your lesson, don't you. You're prime fuckmeat, pretty slut, but you're obviously not broken entirely or you wouldn't have run away."

He slides his shoulders beneath my legs, so that my entire lower regions are open for him. Without warning, he shoves the nightstick into my cunt and begins moving it in and out. 

I can't help myself, I scream with pleasure as he makes me come; then I shrink away again with terror as he removes it and begins to push it against my asshole.

"Please, no, not there..."

He slaps me hard across the mouth. "What did I tell you?" Cursing, he gags me with a strip torn off my slave tunic, so I can't cry out. Then he begins to work the nightstick, wet with my own juices, into my ass, slowly and expertly.

Tears are streaming down my cheeks at the unbelievable pain of it, but at last it's well seated in me, most of it remaining outside my body, so that he has only to touch it gently for it to make me tremble and scream behind the gag. Then he mounts me again and starts to push his cock into my cunt, carefully, taking his time. 

The sensation is indescribable: since my slave training started, I've been double-reamed in the cunt and ass a number of times, but this is on a whole other level.

He sees me respond, and smiles, increasing his tempo. "I knew you could take this, slut! You feel that? You feel that wood in your ass? Yeah, I bet you do. You feel MY wood in that tight, dripping honeypot? You are one hot piece of pussy, little fucktoy; when I bring you back, I'll be sure to tell your training masters just how good you were. Don't feel bad, no slave has ever escaped from there. You might call this paying the fine...a traffic violation."

By now I'm almost delirious with the sensations as he thrusts his cock slowly and deeply up my wet cunt until he's all the way in, my cunt lips stretched wide open. I can feel the rigid nightstick and his dick, just as rigid, separated from each other only by a thin barrier of my own flesh; as he starts to move in me, and wiggles the nightstick, I go wild.

"You like this, don't you, honey, yeah, I knew you would. Body like that, you're built for men to use. They knew what they were doing, grabbing you. They'll break you good, once I bring you back. You won't be able to help it. And pretty soon you'll be sold. You're already branded and collared like an animal. You're property, a piece of livestock. Wish I could buy you myself, but a slut as good as you are is way out of my price range. Still, getting to stuff you like this is a nice little treat."

One hand is gripping my steel collar, pulling and jerking me, almost choking me. He's controlling his cock in me with the motion of his hips, and with the other hand he's manipulating the nightstick, withdrawing one slightly as he pushes deeper into me with the other. 

Watching my helpless responses, he begins to increase the pace; the tension on my throat and wrists and ankles, and the nightstick impaling me, keep me immobile, I can't push back at him as I usually do when I'm being fucked. But somehow my forced motionlessness makes it even better and more intense, for both of us, and I strain beneath him as he pounds me, the nightstick and his cock both as deep in me as they can possibly get. My muffled gasps are getting louder as I start to come, turning us both on, and he smiles, gasping himself with his effort.

"That's it, slut! I'm fucking you like the animal you are...just lie there...you're meant to be used...just enjoy it, you know you love it." 

Finally we both explode as we come. I've never felt such a climax before: it rips through me like earthquake tremors, and I scream against the gag and shake under him as he jerks and shudders and cries out, and then I lay there all but unconscious, exhausted. He kisses my tits, gently.

"Great job, little slut," he says, grinning, and pulls his dick out of me, then, more carefully, works the nightstick out of my battered ass. I'm incapable of movement, and when after a while he flips me over and uses his belt on my back and thighs and ass, then starts to fuck me again, just his cock this time, straight up my cunt from behind, I haven't the strength to respond. But he seems to like that, as he drives into my limp body like a dog into a bitch, and I come helplessly and hard.

Finally he's through. He cleans me up with the rags of the tunic, then binds my ankles together with leather cuffs. I don't resist; I can't move under my own power, and he unfastens my wrists and cuffs them behind my back, clipping them to the ankle restraints, so that I'm bent like a bow, hogtied and naked, bruised and stained with our juices.

"You look good like that, slut. I hope you've learned your lesson. And thanks for the fun afternoon." 

He gives me a kiss on my pussy, then goes to the driver's seat and starts the car. Pulling back out onto the road from the hidden clearing, he heads the police car through the gates and up to the delivery entrance of the slave academy.

Master Marco is waiting, smiling, as the cop pulls me from the back seat and slings me onto the grass at the slavemaster's feet. I lay unmoving, helpless, barely conscious, not even able to dread the punishment I know will be handed out to me.

"Rick, nice to see you. Well? How did she do?"

The cop--Rick--grins. "Terrific. She's a born slut. I do enjoy these little tests. You've never had one get away yet, have you?"

"Not with you lying in wait to pick them up on the road. They think you're saving them, and it's an exquisite punishment when you start teaching them their lesson. Not one of them has ever failed to try to make the escape, either. It helps us determine how far we have to go in breaking them, a very useful test."

They both stare down with satisfaction at my naked, bruised and bound body lying helplessly on the grass at their feet, used and controlled: a woman under the power of men. As it should be.

"So now you'll punish her suitably, I'm sure. She was damn good, though. Probably the best I've had here."

The slavemaster laughs, and prods my body with his foot, then places his foot on my neck. "Oh, she's a natural fuck, and a natural slave too. She enjoys being used; enjoys her slavery, even. But now we just have to break her the rest of the way. Thanks for helping."

"My pleasure. No, REALLY my pleasure. If you need any more help, let me know."

Master Marco gestures, and a trainer comes over and lifts me in his arms, carrying me into the building, where I will be broken the rest of the way...

To be continued, if it pleases masters and mistresses...



Slave Academy Ch. 05



Ch. 05: A Lesson Taught, A Lesson Learned

Well, I tried. I made the best escape attempt I could; it wasn't my fault that the cop I thought was rescuing me was really in cahoots with the slavers and used me in the back of his squad car, just to make sure I got the message.

I'm going to be getting a lot of messages, I have a feeling, now that I've been recaptured and returned. I've been put in a cell, my chained wrists suspended from a ceiling hook and my ankles shackled to bolts in the floor, and I'm waiting to see how I'm going to be punished for my transgression. I don't have long to wait.

After a couple of hours, two slave captains, neither of them Master Marco, enter my cell without saying a word. One of them tightens the wheel device that puts tension on my body, so now I'm stretched out as far as they can get me, standing on tiptoe. Then the other blindfolds me. I wait an agonizing few minutes for something to happen. Then they start to methodically whip me, front and back, taking turns. The lash they're using has wide, soft, flat leather blades, so as not to cut or mark my skin—mustn't damage the merchandise—but it hurts like hell, the way they wield it. I never know where the next slash is coming from, or landing on: they strike my breasts, my ass, my pussy, my thighs, pretty much all of me below the neck and above the ankles.

The pain is allowed to fade slightly before another blow lands on me, and pretty soon I'm floating in a state between exquisite agony and exquisite euphoria. After a while, they take me down and chain me spread-eagled on my back on the bed in my cell. One of them shoves a vibrator into my pussy and a plug up my ass, gags me and hooks up electric clamps to my nipples and my clit. Nothing happens for a while, then the clamps and vibrator kick in, and I arch on the bed, screaming behind the gag. I'm still blindfolded, and before they leave me there, the trainers put silicone plugs in my ears: so basically I'm without sensory input, nothing to focus on except the random sensations being inflicted on my nipples and clit and cunt and ass. I'm sore and aching from the whipping, and the shocks are painful enough to make me scream and tremble, but I also still have that warm glowing feeling where my skin was struck.

It's a lesson, of course. I'm being taught that I'm nothing but fuckmeat, that I must be punished for running away. But they're not trying to get me to respond, they're trying to break me. And they're going to succeed. They've been doing this sort of thing for decades here, capturing girls and turning them into salable slaves. Some of them, like me, rebel and try to escape. But the funny thing is, I tried to escape because it was something I felt I should do when I had the chance, not necessarily something I wanted to do.

I have no idea how long I'm left like this, but when a trainer comes in again I'm limp and unresistant and exhausted. He pulls the vibrator out of my pussy and immediately shoves his cock into me; again, it's the only thing I can focus on. Even the irregular jolts of electricity still shocking my nipples can't distract me from the sensation of his huge cock pushing into me. I just lie there unmoving: I'm too exhausted and also the restraints stretch my body out so that I can't move. This seems to be what's intended: I try to concentrate merely on breathing, and I am incredibly aware of his cock slamming my pussy. He can do whatever he wants with me: but he comes quickly, with no concern for my response, just rapes me silently and efficiently, to satisfy himself, and pulls out.

Over the next days, I have no idea of time. I'm regularly beaten, chained, even locked in a cramped metal box like a dog's kennel, where I can't stretch out and am kept in the dark. I find that this kennel terrifies me more than even being whipped or shocked with electrodes, and I'll do anything I'm told to avoid being locked in it. Gradually, though, I begin to stop fighting my captors; the metal box is changed for a small recess in the stone wall of the cell area, with a metal grate over the front like the bars on a cage. It's a little bigger than the feared box: I can sit up or lie down with my knees drawn up, and I'm grateful for the extra comfort, if you can call it that. 

I'm also starved for at least a day or two, allowed only water, then I'm fed only porridge that I have to lap up from a dish on the floor. I'm so hungry by the time the porridge comes along that I don't protest, not even inwardly. I'm not allowed to be on my feet: I'm always either on the bed or other piece of apparatus, or on my hands and knees, ordered to move around on all fours like a dog; any other tidbit of food I'm given, I have to eat straight from a trainer's hand.

Before I'm fed, I'm always used hard, so that I begin to associate being fed with being fucked, all to make me as dependent on masters as they can make me. I'm still being beaten, at random intervals; sometimes with the whip I know so well, sometimes with a riding crop across my back and thighs, once or twice with a thick leather belt that snapped on my ass and stung like hell. And I find myself trying to please, eagerly; I'm being trained like an animal, with treats and punishments. And it's working.

I'm fucked continually, of course, by trainers, male slave trainees and even, occasionally, a favored client who's allowed to contribute to my lessons. None of them are gentle with me, and that's the point: to demonstrate that I have no choice but to submit. Sometimes I'm taken to another room and bent over a wooden sawhorse-type frame, padded with leather, where I'm used by one man after another. They come up behind me, shove their dicks into my cunt or my ass and drill me until I scream. Other times I'm fastened on my back to an X-shaped frame, also padded; the X shape allows me to be used by two or three men at once. 

When I'm not actually being fucked, I always have something stuck up my cunt or my ass, or both: a vibrator, a dildo, a butt plug. I'm also wearing a set of chains that hook to my steel collar, then divide, one to each wrist and a single chain that runs to my feet and hooks to both ankles.

I've been used dozens of times since being recaptured: my cunt and ass and mouth respond now to the slightest touch, even the sound of a man's voice is enough to get me instantly wet. If I'm standing and I hear a man's voice, whether he's addressing me or not, I drop to my knees like a conditioned reflex. I've been broken completely. I'm a blank slate: not yet a slave, but no longer an independently thinking person. I wait to be commanded, and I respond instantly and as perfectly as I can. I'm being taught perfect obedience, which is what the trainers have told me all along would be my greatest test and greatest pleasure. I follow commands automatically, I don't even think about obeying; I just do it.

As I've been gradually broken, the multiples increase, until I'm being used by many men at a time: in my cunt, my ass, my mouth, between my breasts, with a cock in each hand. It's all part of breaking me, forcing my will out of me, so that all I have left is the burning desire to please. And it's effective: I feel myself more a slave every day, every hour, every time I'm used, feel my will slipping away into a well-trained obedience. I'm a fucktoy for men to do with as they please, nothing but a dedicated piece of prime fuckmeat; I had been told that since the night I was brought here, but now it sounds real and true. My body is no longer my own, it belongs to men who want to use it.

Then all of a sudden, I'm not being used at all. I'm chained to the bed on my back, legs wide apart, collar and wrists hooked to the head of the bed. But no one uses me; I don't even see a man, and I writhe on the bed, moaning with desire. I can't believe how desperately I want to be fucked; then I realize this is part of the punishment and training both. I'm being taught how much I now need to have a cock in me, and how this is entirely arbitrary, at the pleasure of men, to use me or not use me as they choose. Being fucked is not my right; it's the right of men to fuck me, and my duty to serve them.

The next day I'm allowed to stand on my feet for the first time in it seems like forever, but is probably only a couple of weeks. I've been showered and groomed, and I look at myself in the wall-length mirror just beyond the bars of my cage: naked as usual, my perfect, creamy skin gleaming in the soft light; my hair, clean and shiny, hangs to my waist in rippling red-blonde waves. I don't need or use makeup, but my eyes have been expertly enhanced by the resident beautician, with shadow, liner and mascara, and pale peach lipstick to make my lips look full and wet.

I'm wearing all my slave things: steel collar around my neck, matching shackles on wrists and ankles. My pierced nipples and clit and pussy lips are enhanced by the gleaming steel that transfixes my flesh, and the ring in my nose is connected by a fine, strong chain to the chain that links my nipples. And to complete the picture of slavery, the brand on my left thigh stands out against my pale, smooth skin. I'm satisfied to look at myself, even proud: that girl in the mirror is no longer the girl that was a student and a dancer and all the rest. She's a slave, and she knows it, and she loves it.

Master Marco comes in; I haven't seen him since the day I was recaptured, and of course I go instantly to my knees. He gives me the command "Down!", and I bend over, forehead touching the floor, breasts just brushing it, ass in the air and back arched, in full prostration. He sits in the chair and watches me for a while, but I do not speak or dare to break position, not without a further command.

"It had to be done," he says at last, very gently. "You were too strong; slaves can be strong, as masters will it, but in a very different way. So you needed to be broken before we could go forward. We'll restore some of that delightful spirit of yours over the next few weeks, but you had to be brought down completely first. Now we can work to build you up again, only this time as nothing but a slave. A perfect slave. Nothing remains of the girl you were except your body, and that body has been trained to perfection. Your mind too, now. Buyers don't want stupid, mindless robots, but they don't want undisciplined sluts who think too much either. It's a very fine line, and we must be doing something right, since we've been turning out superior product for over forty years." 

He pauses, then snaps his fingers, and I instantly assume the position I've been taught masters prefer their slaves to take at that gesture—sitting back on my heels, knees spread, breasts displayed, hands behind my back; but I don't look up at him and I don't speak...I haven't been given permission to.

"We're having our big fall auction soon; if you continue to progress as you have, you'll be put on the block then. I think that will work better for you than selling you privately, though we've already had offers. Being auctioned off does wonders for a girl, believe me. You'll be surprised... Anyway, we send out pictures and details of the lots to any client we think might be interested. Film too, of each girl in action. Some clients are too busy to make it to the auction in person, and will want to bid over the phone or leave an absentee bid, so the prospectus is very helpful for them in making a decision on what girl to bid on.

"It will go pretty quickly: you'll be brought out in front of the bidders, the auctioneer will present you, and then he'll start the bidding on you. Sometimes a bidder will ask to see you perform right there, and one of the slave captains will put you through your paces. We don't allow bidders to use the merchandise; they can handle you during the pre-auction inspection the day before, or ask to see you used by staff, to better judge what they're willing to spend for you, but no more than that."

Head bent, eyes cast down, I think about it. It turns me on incredibly to imagine myself displayed naked on a stage before a roomful of men who are appraising me and deciding whether to buy me, perhaps being used by one of the handsome slave captains right there in front of them all. Who will the one be, the master who leads me away with him as his property, his possession? And I realize that I'm only curious; I'm no longer afraid or angry.

Master Marco continues. "You'll fetch a very good price, no question about that. You're extremely pretty, you're well educated and you have a lot of vitality. You're a fantastic fuck, and any man would want to put you under bondage. Hard to predict who'll buy you, though. It could be a man who wants one slave to serve him perfectly and completely, or a man who has a private collection of slaves and thinks you'll be a good addition. Some men buy slaves to earn money for them: the slave must submit to anyone he says, and he's paid for her use. We have buyers from commercial brothels, where you'll service anyone who pays to use you, and buyers from corporate stables, where you'll entertain anyone the company wants to please and court. Sometimes we get buyers from offshore oil rigs or tankers or freighters, who need an on-board slut to keep the men happy while they're out at sea. Certain resorts, too, like to have a room service menu of luscious sluts on hand for their special guests. Once we even had an order from an Antarctic expedition, for two slaves for the scientists who were down there for six months at a stretch. Needless to say, they didn't go naked around the camp!"

He leans forward and pinches my nipples, then snaps his fingers and points to the bed. That command means "prepare to be fucked, slave." I'm immediately on my back, legs spread and belly already quivering, eager and ready to be used. He undresses unhurriedly, then, naked, kneels between my legs, strokes my thighs, lightly, fingers moving to my soft inner thighs. He's stroking a slave, an animal, not a person; he slips a hand behind my knee and pushes up, and obediently I raise both knees, spreading them wide as I do so. He begins to toy with my pussy lips, flicking them, tugging on them, spreading them apart so that he can get a fingertip right inside my clit hood, to move against my little pink pearl. Which is already swelling, the nerve that feeds it too, both throbbing at his practiced touch.

He's got a powerful, rock-hard body, muscled, with just enough chest hair; I can see how hard his cock is, and how big, but he takes his time—this is a test, and he's never used me before, so I want to be as perfect as I can be for him, the hottest piece of slave ass he's ever had. Still taking his time, he pushes my knees farther apart, then he moves down between my legs, his hands under my ass lifting me, his shoulders under my thighs, his mouth nibbling on my smooth bare mound. I arch under the feel of his tongue snaking its way inside me, flicking my clit; he bites my pussy lips, drawing them into his mouth with his teeth, sucking on them less and less gently. I moan and begin to move, but he commands me to be silent and lie still, and I obey, with difficulty.

He kisses and licks his way up my belly, his mouth against my flanks and hipbones, biting my breasts, tongue moving on my nipple rings, his cock like a hot log against my thighs and belly, until he's poised above me, between my legs again, and his hands pin my wrists at my shoulders. He mounts me, his crotch pressing against mine as he starts to grind insistently against my mound. 

Then he reaches down to take his cock in his hand and position it at the dripping wet entrance to my cunt, sliding the head of it up and down along the line of my slit but not entering me yet. I look up at him, then down my body to where we're about to be connected. His dick is huge and beautiful, not overly long but plenty long enough, thick and heavy, and, obedient slave that I am, I can't wait for it to stuff me.

He doesn't hold back much longer. He punches straight into me in one single move, spearing me on his cock, holding my upper arms in a fierce grip to keep me motionless. He thrusts for a while, not allowing me to move, which is almost impossible for me by now. But he knows exactly what he's doing: his cock slides in and almost out of my cunt, plunging deeper every time, until he's sunk in me all the way up to his balls. 

Then finally he gives me permission to move and make noise, and I lift my hips and squirm under him as he moves inside me, filling me up, stretching my cunt walls out. He's very skilled, and he times his motion to mine so that neither of us come too soon but just get hotter and more urgent with every move. He pulls back suddenly, so that the head of his dick is just outside my cunt, poking at me, teasing me until I beg for him to take me and use me hard.

Finally he settles into the saddle and gets down to work. He scoops his hands under my shoulder blades to hold my body tight to his, and begins to stroke into me, long and hard and slow. I'm being completely, totally fucked, the way a woman should be. His hips are driving his cock like a battering ram, slamming as deep inside me as he can get. I moan with each thrust, gasping, and I wrap my legs around him to allow him complete access, loving the sensations exploding in my body. Well, he's not the slavemaster for nothing...I wonder how many slaves he's trained and used like this.

And now I know that I was truly meant to be what I've finally become: a slave. A slave being used by a man. I'm collared and branded and ringed with steel like an animal. I've been broken like an animal too, conditioned to obey a man's commands: slaves aren't persons, they're property, and the thought of myself as property turns me on like nothing else. 

My fate is set: I'm going to be sold to a master, someone who's going to own me completely, someone who'll do whatever he wants to me, someone I must obey or be punished for it. I tried to deny my nature, but the trainers here were wiser, and they knew what I really wanted to be all long, needed to be, what I was built to be.

I joyfully redouble my efforts under him, my naked body writhing and pushing against his as he drills me, my softness against his rock-solid muscles. Another lesson: a man masters a woman through superior strength as well as nature, but a woman's submission to his mastery gives them both incredible pleasure. I've learned that well, and I learned it the hard way.

He's plowing into me now, powerfully, steadily, his driving motion bringing him up tight and hard against my clit, his cock invisible, completely hidden in my depths. I rock in sync with his motion, pushing back against his crotch, to keep the pressure on my clit, to keep his dick as far inside me as possible, and then I feel myself coming around and under him as he pounds me like a piece of meat. I cry out as the orgasm starts to build, and he gives an enormous final thrust that almost splits me in two and floods my cunt with hot wetness, coming inside me as my own climax rips me apart, screaming with pleasure.

I'm trembling and my cunt is vibrating like a doorbell, waves of warm sensation engulfing me, every nerve exploding. He's still coming, and he pushes down with both hands on the top of my head to force my body further down against him and keep me from moving. Delirious and gasping, I feel him pumping himself dry into me. He rests his full weight on top of my body, and I writhe slowly under him, getting the last little excruciatingly wonderful sensations out of us both. Everything about being fucked is delicious, but this part is almost as good as coming, or the first thrust of a man's hard cock into my softness. It's all good. 

And then he slips out of me and tugs on my nose ring, and that's even better. It all makes me feel incredibly submissive, being used like this, wanting to please, knowing that I have. I lift my hips to him, mutely pleading to be taken again, and he laughs and pinches my breast.




Slave Academy Ch. 05



"Insatiable slut! Do you think I have nothing better to do than fuck you all afternoon?"

"Yes, master, I do think that..." 

He laughs again as I tongue his ear, and I can feel his cock hardening and twitching, stirring against my naked thigh. He's ready to go again in a minute or two, after I use my hand on him, and shift down his body length to take him in my mouth.

But he pulls out of my mouth and flips me onto my belly, pulls my hips up and mounts me from behind, his strong thighs against my round ass. He's got two fingers in my soaking cunt, his other hand pinning my wrists behind my back, and now he takes his fingers out of my slit and brushes some of our juices around to my asshole, where his cock is straining to get in. 

I've been fucked so often in the ass by now that even though my muscle ring is tighter than ever, through the exercises I've been made to do, it doesn't hurt the way it did the first few times. I've come to enjoy the feeling of a naked cock stuck deep in my ass, and I lift my rear end higher as he reams me thoroughly and comes in me, then he pushes me off his dick and sends me sprawling to the floor.

"Well, pretty animal, I see you've learned your lessons well. Haven't you?"

I smile and crawl to him, to kiss his bare foot, and to clean his cock with my mouth and tongue, at his command. "Yes, master. I've learned."

"And what have you learned, pretty slut? Besides how to work one of the hottest little honeypots I've ever had the pleasure of dipping into."

"I've learned that men are the masters, and that I am a slave. I've learned that I exist only to please men, that it's my natural place to serve and obey, that I want to be owned and used." And as I say this, I know to my soul that I believe it, and that I'm glad that's how it is.

Deeply pleased with me, Master Marco strokes my head as if I were a pet—which, of course, I am. "The best slaves always take the longest and give in the hardest; but they're worth every bit of the fight, and once they're broken they are superb. I knew it would be like that with you. And now—a few more weeks to give you some polish, and rest you up, and I'd say you'll be ready to be sold."

There's only one thing I can say to that... "Yes, master!"

To be continued, if masters and mistresses wish...



Slave Academy Ch. 06



Ch. 06: A Final Polish

After Master Marco uses me and leaves, I lie on my bed looking at the bars of my cell. Soon these will be exchanged for a different cell, or whatever other means of keeping me secure, in my new owner's home or place of business.

In these last weeks before my sale, I am being conditioned to the highest levels of response, and now that I've been broken, I am eager to perform and please. Now potential buyers come to take a look at me, and particularly favored ones are given the chance to fuck me. I enjoy this tremendously, of course, and am always excited to be used by them; you can learn a lot from men who are just regular customers or masters, not slavehouse personnel.

One of these comes to inspect me the very next day. As the door to the outer hall opens, I go to my knees at once. Two men come in, one a very rigorous slave captain called Master Dion, who has used me many times and who has a very engaging and humorous attitude, who's been charged with the task of bringing back my spirit and with whom I've had many fun talks, the other... In one quick glimpse before I lower my eyes in obedience I see that he is very tall, very powerfully built, and very black. In fact, he's gorgeous...

Of course over the weeks of my training I've been used by men of all races, shapes and sizes, to get me accustomed to differences and learn how to accommodate them, so the mere fact of his blackness is not even an issue or surprise. What is so arousing is the air of command he brings with him: different from the air of a slave captain or even Master Marco himself. This is a man who is used to buying women and enjoys using them. Well, that's fine by me...all my slavery comes instantly into play.

Master Dion orders me to rise and display myself for inspection. I stand immediately, feet spread to shoulder width, my hands locked behind my head, chin up, eyes down. The buyer begins by tilting my chin up and smiling at me, which is unusual in itself, and I can't help but smiling back tremulously. He's beautiful!

Then he proceeds to run his hands all over my naked body, as though I were a promising filly he was thinking of buying...which I guess is just about right. He strokes my thighs and ass, weighs each breast in his hand, parts my pussy lips and inserts a finger in me to judge the depth and tightness of my cunt. I'm juicing already, and he smiles again as he notices this.

Finally he's done, and turns to Master Dion, who has been watching the proceedings, proud that I'm doing so well in my first inspection by someone outside the slavehouse. "I'd like to try her out," he says in a deep, well-educated voice, whose charming accent I can't place.

Master Dion nods. "Take her as you please, but I have to remain to watch."

"Not a problem." The buyer snaps his fingers and points to the floor, and I go to my knees in front of him. He unzips his pants and lets my eager fingers bring his cock out. It's magnificent, like a thick bar of very tasty chocolate. He's so tall that I have to stretch to reach my mouth to it, but he grabs my hair and pulls me higher. I start licking his cock, flicking my tongue along its length, one arm around his legs to support myself.

He stiffens under my tongue and lips, and I open wide to take him all in. He puts a hand around the back of my neck and pushes my head onto his huge log, filling my mouth, pressing my tongue down. But I've been taught how to do this, and I don't gag as he begins to slide down my throat.

Moving his hips forward, he pushes my face closer to him at the same time, his balls right against my nose; he smells clean and warm and very male, and I give up all control to him as he fucks my face with long, smooth, steady strokes. But he doesn't come, and I look up at him anxiously: am I not pleasing him?

He laughs and pulls out of my mouth. "Don't worry, pretty slut, you did just fine. But I want to come in that hot little body." Again he snaps his fingers and points to the bed this time, and I instantly assume the position for use: on my back, legs spread wide, one knee bent, arms above my head, head turned to the left. He studies me for a moment or two. "Very nice," he says finally, and massages his cock, still exposed and rock-hard.

Kicking off his shoes, he kneels on the bed between my legs. He's so big and tall I have to open my legs wider for him than I usually have to, but he taps my thigh and I obediently bend my knees and raise my legs, feet flat on the bed, and he settles into the saddle to begin the ride.

He's in no hurry, obviously he's tried slaves out before: he gently pushes my knees wider, grasps my ankles and slides my feet further up toward my hips. Again he runs his hands over my breasts and belly and smooth bare mound, tugging on my piercings, and I moan and draw in a shivering breath at his touch.

"Very responsive," he says to Master Dion, who smiles and nods. "Aren't you, slut?"

"I hope so, master," I say, with a little moaning gasp as he begins to move his fingers on and around my slit, then slips one fingertip under my clit hood and presses my little button, circling it, as it swells. I raise my hips to him instinctively, a submissive and enslaved female offering herself to a dominant mastering male, and he smiles approvingly. He begins to massage my clit and inner pussy lips, pressing harder with three fingers, slipping them into my cunt, which by now is soaking wet. I arch at the feeling of his fingers inside me, then he withdraws one and pushes it into my ass.

"Yes, you're a hot little piece of tail..." He pulls off his sweater to bare his chest, then he slips off his pants. God, he's beautiful: well-muscled chest, flat belly, and that magnificent thick cock even bigger and stiffer and harder than it was. I shiver at the thought that such a superb tool is soon going to be drilling me; he asks Master Dion for a gag, and fastens it over my mouth, which always makes me feel helpless and deliciously controlled, and then he flips me over onto my belly and reaches for the flogger that Master Dion hands him.

At the first stroke I almost come right there. Ever since my recapture, I've been well conditioned to the lash, and I respond now to being whipped far more than I ever did before. He jerks my head around by my long hair, to see each lash bite into my ass and the curve of my creamy, smooth back and the soft back of my thighs, and my pale skin first goes white then turns fiery red. He's an expert: in a very few strokes he's got me tingling, in a hot, spreading glow.

In my hazy warmth, I feel his cock head pushing at my ass entrance. He's going to take me there first, he's decided, and I feel the cool touch of wetness as Master Dion lubes me up for it. First I feel fingers in my ass, then his cock is back, sliding in, an inch at a time; he exclaims, pleased, at my tightness. Again he pulls my head around to look: it's a fine sight, his massive dick standing up black and proud out of me, where it's impaling my round white ass. 

He drives all the way in, slowly, his thighs pressing against my butt cheeks, pushing his cock into me, and his hands come around to the front to cup my mound, holding me still for him. A couple of fingers tease the line of my dripping slit, then they slip inside. I can feel them moving in me, pressing against his cock in my ass, his thumb on my clit, and I push backwards against him, to get him even deeper, arching my back to give him better access to me. He doesn't take long to come, unloading into my insides and pulling out, and in almost no time he hardens up again.

Throwing me on my back, now he doesn't delay shoving into my pussy. He remains kneeling upright, pulling my hips up to him. I've been used in that position often before, and I very much like it: he slides me smoothly onto his dick, putting me on like a sock, and we can both see him entering me, which is an incredible turn-on. Once he's snugly fitted inside, filling my cunt completely, he takes a tighter hold of my hips and begins slow thrusting; both of us watch his cock disappearing in me, then pulling out again, shiny with my wetness. At each driving thrust of his hips, I moan a little behind the gag: I love the contrast between my creamy paleness and his beautiful ebony color, the way his black shaft looks as it slides in and out of my swelling pink pussy lips, the way those lips look as they're spread apart by his thickness.

He's deep into me, stretching me, then he lies forward to put all his weight on me and pulls me close to him against his chest, clasping his strong arms under me, pinning my own arms against my sides. My legs are open as wide as they can get; once a woman is impaled like this, stuffed deep, there's no way for her to escape being used well and hard. Not that I want to escape, of course. He shifts forward a little, so that he's riding high on me, his pubic bone and the base of his cock hitting hard against my clit. This is the way I love to be fucked, more than any other: helpless under a man's weight and strength, his cock buried in me right up to his balls.

In full slave response now, my hips are rising and falling to meet his motion, locked close by his strength and the depth to which he's penetrating me. Our bellies slap together, then they're fused as close as they can get as we rock in rhythmic motion. He's talking in my ear, his tongue rimming it and flicking into my ear hole, filling it and blocking the sound, then biting my pierced lobe.

"You're a fine piece of fuckmeat, you must know that. How would you like being sold to a Mideast sheikh? Be part of his harem...one of my clients likes to buy Western women. You'd be well treated, live a life of luxury in total captivity, servicing him and his sons and guests." He thrusts sharply, heaving so hard my whole body moves up on the bed, and I moan. "Another client of mine is a Scottish laird, lives in a castle, he needs a new rape slave for his dungeon, and he likes them to be intelligent. Which I'm told you are. Would you enjoy that, slut?"

I can't speak because of the leather gag and strap that presses my lips together and keeps my jaw shut, but I moan, and he plunges deeper into me than before. We're rocking in unison, and I feel myself coming. Screaming behind the gag, my body goes rigid as my cunt explodes, and he drives into me one final enormous thrust and comes hard, flooding me with hot juice.

He lies relaxed on top of me, while my still-throbbing cunt begins to quiet down, then he pulls out of me and stands up, cleaning himself off with the soft towel Master Dion offers him. Leaning over, he uses the towel to soak up the juices puddling between my thighs and to blot the sweat off my belly and breasts, then he pinches my mound.

"That was quite a ride, little slut," he says, smiling, and kisses me on the navel. I shiver at the touch, and he laughs, turning to Master Dion. "I'll definitely be bidding on her, unless you'd consider an offer for her right now?"

Master Dion smiles at me. "Well done, animal," he says, and unstraps the gag. "Thank you, masters," I whisper. Master Dion slaps me on the thigh and looks at the buyer. "We can talk in the sales office, but I think we'll probably auction her off as planned."

They leave, and I'm left spent and exhausted on the bed, one hand idly stroking my hammered pussy. This scenario is repeated at least a dozen times in the next couple of weeks: buyers and agents, who've seen my presentation in the prospectus the slavehouse sent out and who've been interested enough to ask for a private viewing, coming to try me out. As Master Marco told me, such test-drives aren't permitted in the inspection immediately prior to the auction, so these men are here to sample me by appointment, and only a handful of favored buyers at that.

I do my best to perform as superbly as I can, of course. I want to be bought by the best master I can interest, and even the slave captains are impressed with my performances. But they decide to wait for the auction after all.

Which suits me fine. In the remaining weeks, I'm given a final polish, as Master Marco said: more dancing instruction, though I already move like a tiger; more rehearsing how to serve a master; a few more intensive training sessions with women, learning how to please if I should be bought by a mistress instead of a master, or if I'm purchased by a buyer who owns other female slaves or has a female companion who I'll be expected to service.

But I'm hoping for a truly strong master, and to be his only slave, held in perfect bondage. That would be the best outcome, and I look forward eagerly to being sold on the block. I'll do the best I can; that's all any slave can do...

To be continued, if masters and mistresses wish...



Slave Academy Ch. 07



The Slavemaster's Report

Sales details on Lot 28467: to be sold in the fall auction

A healthy female slave, 20 years old, 5'4", 95 pounds, small-boned frame; 36C-23-33; green eyes; extremely fair-skinned, perfect complexion; strawberry-blonde hair, ass-length; never smoked, drank or did drugs.

Before her acquisition, this property was a college student with a very high grade point average, so obviously well educated enough to please buyers who require such skills in a slave, and she worked as a dancer in local bars and roadhouses, where she had a loyal following. Until she came into our hands, four men had used her in relationships, though none of them seemed to realize her full sexual potential, and neither did she.

Brand: as usual with all the merchandise we sell, she has been branded with our house brand, on her outer left thigh. An owner may add to the brand, as provenance for resale, or of course brand the property with his own separate personal mark.

Piercings: we have ringed the property's nose, nipples and navel with small stainless-steel rings. There is a bar and ball across her clit, and rings in her inner and outer pussy lips and across her slit entrance. These rings may be connected to chains to lace her closed at her owner's discretion, or to control her for punishment or use.

Collar: she is collared with the standard house collar, which of course will be replaced on purchase, and is accustomed to wear manacles on her wrists and ankles, linked by chains, as well as chains linking her piercing rings in various configurations. It has been observed that her collar, shackles and rings are a prime source of arousal for her, as well as an excellent means of control. She has also been trained to walk on a leash and correctly heel her master.

This merchandise comes with full documentation: provenance, certified description, license tag, details of acquisition, a performance report, receipt, sales certificate and transfer of ownership papers for private resale.

This quality lot was scouted and acquired by one of our skilled field teams, who had observed her for a month as she danced in a bar. Her appearance and movements suggested to our team that she would make a superior slave candidate, and she obviously enjoyed displaying herself almost naked to male bar customers, moving in such a way as to arouse them. 

She was captured without difficulty and transported here immediately to be put into bondage and begin her training.

She was acquired with the help of one of our usual and most reliable suppliers. The standard arrangements were made to explain her absence to her family and friends: clothes and other possessions were removed, and letters were sent under her name from out of state, explaining that she had run away with a boyfriend and did not wish to be found. 

No evidence of abduction was left, and there have been no inquiries or police involvement, beyond cursory initial investigation, connected with her disappearance, so bidders need not fear any difficulties.

The property was determined to be a natural slave in her first use tryout by one of our top evaluators. Since her capture, she has been used in the course of her training by all the slave captains, a dozen trainee male slaves, several female captains and slaves, and a number of favored clients. 

She is multiorgasmic and has shown herself to be extremely responsive to all users, and now that she is fully broken, she is completely receptive of the idea that she is merely an animal, a piece of property for owners to do with as they please and dispose of as they choose.

Due to her extraordinary abilities, this slut has received the enhanced course of instruction as a pleasure slave, and is beautifully submissive, responding perfectly to bondage, punishment and restraint. 

Our suggestion to whoever purchases her is to keep her in chains as much as possible, to reinforce the idea of her slavery, and also to enhance her beauty; or to keep her caged, which increases her responses. She does best when kept naked at all times and confined to a cage, a kennel or a master's bedroom.

When given the usual escape-test opportunity, she made the expected attempt and was recaptured after a good run. She put up a respectable fight before being taught a lesson by her captor, and was returned and subjected to severe punishment and intensive retraining. Since then, there have been no other incidents requiring her to be disciplined for cause, beyond the usual discipline required in the course of her being enjoyed and given further training.

This piece of merchandise is very well made: her body is fine-boned, slim and not muscled, with perfect skin, a soft belly, and well-shaped, firm, natural breasts, especially large for her size. Her mound is well formed and her pussy lips are on the large side, well suited for the piercings we gave them. Her ass is firm and well rounded, and both her holes are easily accessible. She has a rather small mouth, but experiences no difficulty in taking any but the very largest male members.

She has been completely depilated below the neck, as is our practice, but the hair removal is not permanent, should her buyer wish her to regrow it. She is extremely supple and flexible, a result of her dance training, and can be used satisfactorily in any sexual position or configuration.

Her clitoris is well placed for maximum stimulation and enlargement during ordinary penetration, and she achieves wet arousal often before even being touched. Her cunt is well exercised and expandable, and is capable of taking penetration from a male organ of any width and length. She had never been used anally before her arrival here, but her ass too has been conditioned to respond to use, and she is very skilled at deep throating.

She has no difficulties reaching violent whole-body orgasm, though she can also hold back her orgasm until commanded by her user to come, and has been clocked as being capable of as many as eleven orgasms in one fuck, though of course she can be used past that by any number of men.

This slave is very vocal during use, and very active under the user, being an athletic ride who can keep her motion going under a man for many minutes; but if commanded to, she can maintain perfect silence and immobility while being fucked. 

She very much enjoys being restrained: blindfolded, gagged, tied down in various positions on beds or other furniture, chained, or fastened to restraint frames. In the course of her training, she has been conditioned to respond to being whipped in all positions, with floggers, lashes, paddles, crops and other implements.

She responds well to use by two, three or even more men at once, and can handle them with ease and eagerness. Although relatively inexperienced when she was first acquired, she is by nature a very sexually talented slut, eager to be used as often as possible, by as many men as possible, and would make a fine addition to any whorehouse.

She is obedient, cheerful, acknowledges and follows commands promptly, and responds well to punishment or even mere displeasure. She prefers to be used by men, but though she is not a natural bisexual, she has been trained to pleasure women and performs well. She has also been particularly trained to please multiple male users and dominant couples. She enjoys being publicly fucked in front of an audience, and has been taken by as many as thirty users in a single session, so is well suited for party entertainment.

In our estimation, this lot would make a superb personal slave for one man, in a household where she is the only slave. She has a great deal of vitality and athleticism, and is constantly in or on the edge of a state of arousal. The property is well versed in slave positions and approaches, in serving techniques, and in perceiving and anticipating a master's wishes before he is aware of them himself.

We would also unhesitatingly recommend her for use in situations such as a corporate stable, an upscale brothel, a harem or a private household with other slaves, female or male. She is of even temperament and gets along well with other slaves.

We certify her training and her statistics as we have here set them down, and unconditionally guarantee her performance, as we do with all the merchandise we put up for sale. We retain the right of first refusal if her purchaser wishes to sell her again, with no time limit set on reacquisition, and her trade-in value is set at a fixed percentage of her block price, according to how long the buyer held title on her and dependent on a doctor's evaluation of her physical condition.

Although we prefer for merchandise to be sold back to us without restriction, we are also happy to accept consignment, or to assist the owner as a middleman in reselling his property. We maintain a want list for our clients, and will have no difficulty in finding an appropriate buyer at maximum financial advantage.

Should the purchaser wish to breed this property at any time, we can supply information on health issues if any, ethnic origins and any other pertinent data. We can also assist in the sale/adoption of any offspring she may produce.

If an interested client should wish to examine her personally and try her out himself, private arrangements can be made to do so before the auction. Inspections are open the day before the auction, but we regret that no personal use will be permitted at that time.

Absentee bids for lots in the fall sale will be accepted two weeks prior to auction, and offers for outright purchase will also be entertained.

To sum up, this is an extremely desirable, responsive and well trained slave, one of the best we've offered in years, and in our opinion she will make a fine acquisition and investment. Hot and eager to please, she was built to be fucked and enslaved, and will do well in bondage, providing years of enjoyment and obedience for the discerning master who chooses to purchase her and put his collar on her.

Bidding on this lot will open at $2,500. Estimated block price: $10,000. Good luck in acquiring and owning this prime piece of fuckmeat!




Slave Academy Ch. 08



Chapter 08: The Auction

Summer is coming to an end; you can tell by the leaves starting to change on the trees that cover the big rolling hills surrounding the slave academy. It's already too chilly for us slaves to be exercised outdoors naked; when we go outside for our morning runs, we have to wear short, fleecy tunics that cover us up for warmth, but still have open bottoms, keeping our cunts and assholes accessible to anyone who may want to use them.

Master Marco, the slavemaster, told me a few weeks ago that I'm ready for sale at the big fall auction, which takes place beginning tomorrow, Friday, and runs through Sunday afternoon. So I've been given some extra polish: the sales department is planning on selling me as a high-quality pleasure slave. Which meant I'll most likely not end up in a brothel, at least not a run of the mill one. 

"Usually the girls we sell on that level are bought by private masters," one of the slave captains tells me while giving me a final evaluation before my sale. "Of course, they're often sold into the harems of Mideast royalty, or the stables of corporations. But because they're so valuable to their owners, they usually have a comfortable life. So don't worry, little animal. We have a lot invested in you, and we'd never sell you to anyone who doesn't appreciate that. Now, display."

I'm completely naked, as usual. My body has just been completely depilated and feels soft and smooth, oiled up and glistening. I can see myself in the mirror of the training room as I pose with my feet apart at hip width and my hands linked behind my head. My red-blonde hair, clean and shining, falls newly trimmed, to brush my ass.

"Down!" I go instantly to my knees then bend forward to touch my forehead to the floor, palms flat on the floor above my head and my back arched, to get my smooth, round ass as high in the air as I can. It's the classic prostration position, used when approaching a master or awaiting use or punishment.

He snaps his fingers, which is the signal for me to go to the low training bed, lie on my back and spread my legs—a slave ready for fucking. He bends over and begins to finger my cunt and pussy lips, and I automatically lift my hips to his touch. He laughs and pinches my clit teasingly, then cups my bare mound in one hand. 

"You really are an insatiable, fuckable slut, aren't you. What on earth were you thinking with your little escape attempt a couple of months back?"

"I wasn't thinking, master," I say, with difficulty as my breathing has gotten fast under his touching me. "It just seemed I should try. Since the occasion presented."

He's busy stretching me out, strapping my wrists and ankles to the platform that the bed rests on. I love being fucked when I'm tied down so tight I can't move, and he knows it. It makes me feel so female, that a man, any man—a master—can do whatever he wants to me, whenever he wants to do it. Over the course of my training, I've been tied for use in many positions, but this is my favorite. 

Now he's pushing two fingers into my slit, moving them around inside me, feeling the little ridges and skin folds of my rapidly juicing cunt. I arch and moan under his expert touch as he withdraws one wet finger and works it into my asshole, and then applies his thumb to my clit. A three-fingered hold on me: I feel like a bowling ball he's put his fingers in to roll a strike.

He pulls out his fingers and begins to stroke my quivering thighs, in long slow motions, like grooming a cat, all the way from my crotch down to my ankles. Then he nibbles his way up again, his mouth moving on my flesh from ankles to crotch, his tongue flicking my clit, then probing the entrance to my cunt.

"We've never had a girl who didn't try to escape, given that same opportunity. It's a useful tool; it lets us see how much more the girl needs to be broken in. You've been quite the challenge; you're a hot piece of ass, you love being fucked, and you know in your heart you're a natural slave. Yet your brain, because you're so intelligent, tells you you need to fight back, to resist. We had to break you very carefully: to break your will, but not your spirit. But that's all over now."

"Yes, master, it is," I gasp, as he runs his hands again over my tensed, aroused body. He smiles and roughly grasps my tits, one in each hand; my breasts are so big he can't get his hand around them, the soft, alabaster-white flesh spills over. Some men like small tits they can grab completely in one hand, but in the course of my training I've found that most men like bigger ones, even two-handers.

He runs his hands down over my belly and around to grab my ass, then reaches for the leather flogger. I tremble, seeing it bite into my tits, which go red as apples under the lash. He moves down to my soft belly and creamy thighs, again letting me see the whip crack against my body. Apart from the arousal a whipping always gives me, it's also another reinforcement of my slavery: I'm just livestock, an animal for a man to treat as he pleases. And both those things turn me on beyond belief; I'm aching to feel his cock in my cunt, and I lift my hips again to the lash, silently begging him to fuck me.

But he's in no hurry, and this is probably my final tune-up before being sold, so we both might as well take our time and enjoy it. Now he's spreading my steel-ringed pussy lips apart, moving a finger up and down, then under my clit hood to draw circles on my swollen pink nub; the nerves are engorged completely, I can feel the thickness all the way up along the nerve stem into my body. 

Then he finally gets down to business: he straddles my face, and I obediently open my mouth to take his cock. He unwraps the towel he was wearing and is as naked as I am as he slowly guides his heavy, erect dick past my moist and waiting lips. I begin to suck him eagerly, flicking my tongue around him, my head coming off the mattress as I feel him begin to carefully slide down my throat. Then he's fucking my face, his cock deep in my throat; I make small moans as his balls press into my face. He moves his hips forward with long rhythmic strokes, his hands on the back of my neck holding me perfectly. Then his balls begin to tighten up, and he thrusts faster and deeper until he unloads in my throat. Perfectly trained, I swallow every drop, cleaning him off with my lips and tongue as he begins to pull back out.

"Very nice. Get me hard again, slave, I want to fuck your cunt now." It's not easy, since I'm tied down and all I can use on him is my mouth and tongue, but the slave captains are virile, vital men chosen for their capacity, and it doesn't take more than a minute for him to be rock hard again.

He moves down my body, caressing as he goes. He bites my neck, my breasts, tongues my ears, flicks the steel rings in my nose and nipples. "You're a very talented slut, aren't you, little animal. You're going to make your buyer a very lucky man." Again his fingers are working my inner lips hard, moving against my throbbing clit; then he puts one hand on the soft inner flesh of each thigh and pushes them wider apart. It's not the first time he's ever had me—all the training captains have used me on numerous occasions, in every possible position—but I enjoy being fucked by him more than by some others. He settles his body on top of mine, right into the sweet spot, then reaches down with one hand and guides his dick into me. I'm well slicked up by now, and he slides in easily, his thick cock filling me up completely.

He begins to thrust and grind in one motion, and my breathing changes and slows, coming out in little moans after each thrust. "You really love this, don't you..." he says, as he leans forward to put his weight on me.

"Oh yes, master! I love being used like this...fuck me hard, please, master!"

"You're such a great piece of fuckmeat..." He redoubles his thrusting into my naked, bound body. The forced immobility of being tied down always focuses me, turns me on incredibly: the only sensation I can feel is him pounding into me, the rising warmth spreading out from my clit and my cunt as we both work our way to coming. It hits together—his hoarse shout, my scream.

He lies on top of me for a few moments, regaining his strength; then he twists the swivels on the wrist and ankle straps and flips me onto my belly. "We might as well go for all three holes," he says, laughing. He adjusts the ankle straps so he can pull me up onto my knees, arms stretched out in front of me and fastened securely. He kneels behind me and begins to lube up my asshole with some of our own juices, and when I'm sufficiently moistened, he poises his cock at my little rosebud and starts working his way gently in. I cry out as he pops the head of his dick past my muscle ring and slides smoothly, deeply into my ass. One final push, and he's sunk in me right up to his balls. 

He holds me there like a moment, then pulls my hips back against him to fit my ass snugly against his muscled loins. Not releasing his hold on my hips, he starts deep thrusting, then he flattens me out under him on the bed, his full weight on me from my neck to my thighs, and he slips his hands around in front to start working my pussy, two fingers deep in my cunt, the other hand ravaging my clit or my breasts. My mind is pretty much gone by now under his assaults, but one thought remains: this is how a man uses a woman. He should take her any way he wants her; what she wants doesn't matter, her purpose is to be used, to submit to him against her will or not. And knowing that, being used by him, she will have the most supremely shattering orgasms of her life, and give him tremendous pleasure as well.

He quickly and expertly brings us both off, and pulls out of me. "Clean me", and he thrusts his dick into my mouth for me to lick him off. The session goes on for another hour or so, with him using me several more times before he's had enough and unstraps me, massaging my weary limbs.

"You have nothing to worry about, slut," he says as he leaves my cell. "Get some sleep and don't think too much about it. You can't do anything about it. It'll all be over soon enough."

I lie down on my bed again and stretch out. Tomorrow it all begins...

The sale starts Friday evening; buyers have been arriving all day. Some stay in the small hotel and guesthouses on the premises, others drive in from other accommodations in the towns or villages around. We—the slaves—are tremendously excited. We've been showered and shampooed and waxed and polished; hair and nails done, beautiful makeup jobs, the works. There's probably a hundred girls to be auctioned off before the weekend is over.

Master Dion, the slave captain in charge of me and half a dozen other girls, tells us that Friday night the second-best lots will be sold. These can be great bargains for buyers, but the buyers also know that the best lots are being saved for Saturday night. All day Saturday, girls will be sold, with minimal presentation and fuss, while Sunday mornings are dedicated to resales: masters who want to trade in their slaves, or trade up; and these lots can be great bargains as well.

There are maybe two dozen slaves being sold in my group, the crème de la crème. We're held back till the end of the auction, and the buyers know to wait for us. I look at the other girls and smile. We are all lovely, in our very different ways; there isn't an unalluring girl in the bunch: blond, brunette, redhead, black, Asian, white, Latina, even a tiny brown-satin-skinned Hindu girl and a tall, bronzed Native American. We're all naked, of course, wearing our collars and our brands, our rings if we've been pierced; for the auction, a lot number has been written in washable ink on our right ass cheeks and left breasts, so that the buyers can see it from any angle.

I can hear the buzz of the crowd in the auditorium as they settle down to business. The lights are down except for the stage, which is carefully lit to show the merchandise to best advantage. I'm to be sold in the middle of the group, which is a position much coveted by girls, carefully planned by the staff, and eagerly anticipated by buyers.

One by one, the slaves in my group are led up several steps and brought out on the stage. Sometimes they're applauded, sometimes not. One by one they go: the delicate little Latina, the tall Swedish blonde, the creamy Irish redhead. I'm quivering with butterflies inside: Master Marco said that slaves only benefit by being sold, that probably every woman should be sold once in her life, that this might be the first and only time for me, or merely the first of many times I'd stand on the auction block. But I resolve to do my best. I'm a slave; that's all I can do.

At last I hear my number called, and the handler moves me forward up the steps. Then I'm out on the stage, my body naked and gleaming in the bright lights, walking alluringly across the soft padded surface, and the selling crew takes me over, positioning me on the sales bench. I sneak a glance at the crowd: probably a thousand buyers, mostly men, some women. I feel a great thrill, and it's all I can do to keep from coming right there.

The auctioneer begins his spiel: "Lot 28467. A healthy female slave, 20 years old, 5'4", 95 pounds, small-boned frame; 36C-22-33; green eyes; extremely fair-skinned, perfect complexion; natural strawberry-blonde hair, ass-length; never smoked, drank or did drugs; ringed as you see..."

He goes on, but I don't hear him; I'm overwhelmed with what I'm feeling. I want to court the crowd, to show them how desirable I am. My future master is out there; I want him to buy me. It's within auction guidelines that I can be used at this point, to demonstrate my salability to the buyers, and sure enough someone in the front row raises his bidding paddle backwards, to indicate that he wants to see me put through my slave paces before the bidding starts. The auctioneer nods and points to one of the sales staff, who comes forward. I go immediately to my back on the display couch and open my legs for him. He kneels between my thighs, stroking me with both hands, and my hips rise to him. 

He takes his time, making sure I'm dripping wet, using his fingers to draw my juices around to my asshole and up over my throbbing clit. The audience is cheering him on as he takes his dick out of his trousers and mounts me; I can feel his naked cock pushing against my thigh. Then his hand guides his dick to my wet and throbbing slit entrance and in one powerful thrust he's all the way in. Firmly in the saddle, he begins to fuck me expertly, slipping his hands under me to get me as tight against his rock-solid body as he can. His dick is not long, but it is thick, and he fills my cunt completely, stretching it out, stretching out the skin at my entrance around it.

We both want to give a good performance; my sale price may well depend on it. He pulls out a little, leaving just the head of his cock inside me, and I arch, moaning, wanting him deep in me again. He bends my knees and folds my legs back, then pushes deep into me again. There isn't an inch of my hot, wet softness that his cock doesn't own. He starts to drive into me now, slower at first, but all the way in, always forward, never letting his cock loosen in my cunt. My mound is right against his balls as he pounds me over and over again. I lock my legs around his back and move with him, moaning as I feel my orgasm start to rise and spread out. He thrusts harder then explodes inside me

I lie as he leaves me there, then I feel myself being cleaned up by the auctioneer's assistants. Water is squirted up my open cunt to flush me out, a towel is applied to soak up the mixture of water and juices. I'm pulled to my feet and ordered into standing display position. Applause greets me, and I find myself responding, moving to the interest of the crowd as I've been taught.

The bidding is fast and furious: at last it comes down to two bidders. One I can't see, as from my viewpoint onstage he's not in the light; the other is a man in the front row, not the man who asked to see me used but someone sitting with him, perhaps his agent. The auctioneer keeps pulling the bids out of them, and finally it's over. The hammer comes down: I've been sold. And sold for twice the catalog estimate, too! A fantastic price; the slavehouse management will be very pleased indeed at how much I've fetched.

A big round of applause as I'm led off the stage and down the other side. There, I'm put in a small holding cage with other sold slaves, and we all cluster round and excitedly compare our prices and speculate on who has purchased us. One by one, the sales staff comes in to lead us away for the final formalities: we're being brought to our buyers, who are busy signing documents, collecting our papers and licenses, and of course paying for us before they take us away.

Three of the girls in my consignment group have been purchased by an exclusive, super-private resort in the Caribbean; they will be put into the slave stable the club keeps for its rich and demanding members, who pick and choose from the sluts offered for their use, like selecting luscious fruit from a lavish buffet. Two more have been bought by a cruise ship that hosts private cruises for wealthy passengers, operating under the same principle as the resort—the girls are part of the stateroom furniture, there to be used or not. Others, like me, have no idea to whom they've been sold, and we wait nervously to learn our fate.

This is it, then. This is what it all comes down to. I was kidnapped, raped, collared, branded, broken, trained to please. I was turned into a slave girl. And now a man has bought me to use as he likes; he can do whatever he wants to me. I must obey him and serve him perfectly; whoever he is, he owns me now, I'm his property, like a dog or a car or a shirt. And as I think this, I suddenly realize that this is what I was meant to be. The slavemasters just made me realize it; and then they trained me to express it to perfection. I might be kept in bondage by this master for the rest of my life, or I might be sold on in six months and have many other masters after that. But I know that whatever happens to me from now on, it's something I want with all my heart: I was born to be a slave girl, and I exist to please men.

Finally it's my turn; a smiling assistant beckons me out of the pen, and I hurry to heel him as he walks away. In the sales office lobby, I go to my knees, head bent. My new owner is in the office, taking care of the details of my purchase. I don't dare try for even a glance of him, but Master Marco comes out of the office, raises my head and smiles at me. 

"Good girl," he says. "You were a fine acquisition for us, my dear. Now you're going to your new life with your first master; remember what you've been taught, and what you've taught yourself. You're a superb slut, pretty animal, and I have no doubt that you'll please him very, very much." 

"Thank you, Master Marco. I—" I find that I can't speak, but he ruffles my hair and I know he knows what I can't manage to say: thank you, master, for everything.

He takes my right hand. "This is a tradition: we give one to all our slaves on their sale day." He slips a heavy shining steel ring onto my thumb, and we both look down at it. A slave ring, mark of my bondage. It fits very tightly: it's not uncomfortable, but it's not going to come off either. Not without being sawn off.

"It's like a mini-collar," he says, smiling. "You can't see your own collar, only feel it around your neck. But this you'll be able to see any time at all. It will help you remember what you are. Sometimes, that may be hard, for you to do that; the slave ring will remind you that you're owned."

I lean forward and kiss his hand. He smiles and turns to go, slapping my ass one last time in affectionate farewell. "You'll make us proud, slut."




Slave Academy Ch. 08



I remain kneeling—no one has commanded me otherwise, so as a slave I do not break position—until two men come out of the office and stand in front of me. One of them is the head of the sales department, the other is...my new master. I still do not move or look up.

"You've made an excellent purchase," says the sales chief. "In our head slavemaster's opinion, as you just heard him say, she's one of the finest pieces of prime slaveflesh we've ever offered for sale. And of course we stand by our guarantee, should you ever wish to trade her in or resell her. So, will you take her with you, or have her sent? We can package her for shipping if you like; you'll have her tomorrow afternoon, ready to use."

"No," says my master—the first time I hear him speak, a deep, English-accented voice. "I'll take her with me. Just get her ready. I'll be in my car." He hasn't touched me or spoken to me, and I kneel trembling at his feet; I'm sure he sees me shivering. He abruptly leaves the office, and the sales chief commands me to stand.

Two assistants come in and start preparing me for travel. Plugs are placed in my cunt and ass, sound-cancelling earplugs in my ears, and a blindfold and gag are placed on me—security measures. Then a tunic, slit to my waist and short enough to barely cover my ass and cunt, is slipped over my head; and soft leather slippers put on my feet. My hands are drawn behind my back and cuffed there, my ankles are fastened with shackles, and chains run from my collar to my wrist cuffs to my ankle shackles. Finally, a long soft warm wool cloak is wrapped securely around me and strapped closed, and the hood is pulled forward and down over my head and buttoned in place. I'm completely helpless within the cloak and bindings; I can't even walk on my own.

One of the assistants picks me up and slings me over his shoulder like a rolled up rug and carries me out of the office, out of the building, out to my new owner's car, where he places me carefully on the back seat, straps me in securely, and closes the door. I can't hear anything through the earplugs, can't see, can't speak; I have no idea who bought me, or where I'm being taken, or what he intends to use me for, and I lie there trembling and defenseless. Then the driver's door opens and I feel the car shift as my owner takes his seat behind the wheel and slams the door closed.

He still doesn't speak to me, or if he does I can't hear him. The car starts up: it feels like a large powerful car, it runs very smoothly and silently. He swings it around the drive circle, then down the long drive I once escaped down, and out the gates, the gates I was brought through four months ago as a terrified new captive. Now I'm going to my new home, with my new master taking his newly purchased slave to her new life. Whatever that life will be, I have no say in it, and no choice but one: to serve with perfection, and to always have the last words in any conversation: "Yes, master."