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Chapter
19
"So
she's completely ready then?" asked the latest recruit to the slut
training centre's staff, gazing down at Scully's tightly restrained body. The
once proud FBI agent was quite unrecognisable as the smartly dressed, poised
professional woman who had been taken by the slave trainers; she was encased in
a skin-tight rubber suit that covered every inch of her form, with the
exception of two small nasal holes to enable her to breath and zippers covering
her mouth, ass and cunt, so that anyone who wished to could have access to any
of her holes at any time. And she hung, suspended by chains from the ceiling,
her arms firmly restrained behind her back, her legs forcibly spread, her moist
openings at just the right height for penetration by a passing sadist.
"Oh
no!" laughed Harold, who was responsible for teaching the centre's latest
slutmaker the ropes, often quite literally. "She's come very far, very
fast, this little slut, but we're aren't at the finish line yet, young
man."
"So
what else do we need to do to her?" his pupil, who rejoiced in the name
Skywriter Smith (hippie parents, don't ask!) inquired. "She seems
completely tame to me."
Three
weeks had passed since FBI Special Agent Dana Scully had been abducted and her
training as a docile and obedient sex slave had proceeded apace in this short
time, so much so that Sky, who had joined the team of slut trainers just two
weeks previously, had only ever seen Scully as a wildly enthusiastic little
bitch desperate to be fucked by any and every man and woman she could offer
herself to.
"She
only appears tame," Harold explained to his young protegee. "She is
now a complete nymphomaniac thanks to our efforts and she knows that she won't
be allowed to cum unless she is totally obedient at all times. Which is a vital
first step in any slave-slut's training, of course. But somewhere in that
sex-crazed brain there is still a dream of freedom, of the independence that
she once possessed."
"It
is only that, of course, a dream," the senior bitchmaker added as he tugged
at the zipper covering Scully's ass and removed one of the buzzing vibrators
that had been keeping the bitch permanently on heat until her holes were needed
by her owners. "After what we have done to her in the past few weeks she
could never resume her former life as a FBI agent, or at least not for long. It
would, in practice, be only a few days before she'd end up fucking a colleague,
or a suspect, or one of the forensics guys at a crime scene, or a passing
homeless person. Or whoever. And getting herself fired. Her whole existence is,
from now on, going to be focused on fucking and sucking and cumming and holding
down a responsible job in law enforcement at the same time would be quite
impossible in the real world."
"So
what else do we need to do to her?" Sky asked, eager to learn and take his
place as a full-time slut trainer, a job he had dreamed of having since
adolescence but one that he had never thought he could ever actually do.
Harold
sunk his erect penis into Scully's hot and wet rear entrance and thrust home,
producing a deep sigh of contentment from the trainer and some rather weak
struggling from his helpless bound captive. "We need to do just one more
thing," he explained. "We need to deprive her of hope. Hope is all
that she has left - hope that she can one day either escape or be rescued and
return to her former life. So we need to demonstrate to her that this can never
be. And we go about doing that by... "
Chapter
20
Rusty
moaned loudly into the penis gag that filled her mouth and attempted to thrust
her ass backward to impale herself more deeply on the prick of her latest
rapist, producing the weak struggling visible to her captors. She had been
suspended like this, imprisoned in a world of total sensory depravation, with
no sight, no sound, for how long now? Hours? Days? And how many times had she
been fucked in that time? Dozens? Hundreds? How ever many it had been, the
number wasn't enough, she thought to herself, if thinking is what her limited
brain functions could be described as any more. Over the past three weeks Rusty
the slut had come to dominate the personality that had once thought of itself
as Dana Scully. And Rusty liked being fucked. Rusty lived to be fucked. When
Rusty didn't have a cock inside her of a tongue or finger teasing her clit she
felt empty, unfulfilled. Which sense of loss led to obedience of an
enthusiastic nature that gladdened the hearts of her captors.
And
yet Harold was right. There was still a part of her brain that dreamt of
freedom. This dream had, over the course of her training, gradually evolved
into a vision of life as an endless series of fuckings with just the occasional
moment spent as a professional person, a human being respected by her peers.
And yet this deranged fantasy remained hidden inside her as a warped version of
what her life could be, if she could only escape from the madmen who had
abducted and abused her.
Little
did she know that her captors were, even then, plotting to deprive her of this
last vestige of hope. No, with the earpieces of the rubber suit that encased
her muffling out all sound, little Rusty could only enjoy the latest anal
assault from her principal trainer, her body rising rapidly to orgasm and her
mind oblivious to the horror that was being discussed just inches away.
Chapter
21
"Step
one," Harold explained to Sky, his voice starting to pant as his own
orgasm aproached. "We turn off the orgasm tap. Since her capture little
Rusty here has been cumming several dozen times a day, on average, and she is
now addicted to her orgasms worse than any heroin junkie or crackhead you ever
saw, and I do mean ever."
"So
it's no more cumming for this little slut, at least not for a while," the
pet trainer grunted as he shot his seed into the ass of his latest victim,
before pulling his prick out and closing the zipper covering Scully's ass.
"The next few days for our Rusty here will seem like an eternity spent in
the deepest level of Hell, I'm afraid."
And
with that Harold and Sky left Scully alone in her bondage, her latest orgasm so
close and yet so very, very far. Inside her rubber prison Rusty waited
patiently, confident that another prick would soon be filling one or more of
her holes and that this time she would be permitted to cum. Reality, however,
had quite another fate in store.
Chapter
22
If
she had been handed a suicide pill Scully would have swallowed it, right there
and then, she admitted to herself. Because she hadn't been allowed to cum for
three whole days. The Scully side of Rusty's personality inwardly shook its
head at this fact. Previously Scully had masturbated rarely, often only once a
week or even less when busy on one of Mulder's wild goose chases. But now just
72 hours without an orgasm had left her praying for death. And the worst thing
was that her captors refused to tell her why they had turned the cum tap off or
when, if ever, it would be turned on again. Her attempts to ask what was
happening, like her attepts to beg for the chance to cum, merely resulted in
her owners activating the paingiving implant in her head, reducing her to a
screaming ball of tortured nerve endings. Her time since she had been released
from her rubber bondage had been more or less routine, with extensive training
in posing to please, dancing to tease and accepting bondage and discipline with
something resembling enthusiasm, whether genuine or faked. But she had not been
fucked for three long days. And any attempt to play with herself had brought
harsh punishment. And her captors had even taken to restraining her at night,
so that she could not masturbate under cover of darkness.
Scully's
craving for suicide was being generated by the scene that she was being forced
to watch. Whilst she remained nude apart from her collar and heels and sat at
the feet of one of her trainers with her hands cuffed behind her back, in front
of her a row of sluts were being put through their paces by their masters and
rewarded with fuckings for demonstrating the appropriate enthusiasm for
obedience. "Why not me?" she thought to herself. "Why can't it
be me that they are fucking? I'm every bit as obedient as those stupid
sluts."
Scully
looked wordlessly up at Wade, who held her leash, imploring him with her eyes
to favour her with his cock. Wade, however, pretended to ignore the pitful
sight beneath him, at least for a while. Finally, however, he looked down at
his helpless pet. "Is there a problem, little slut?" he asked,
smiling sadistically. "Why yes, Sir," Rusty replied promptly, in what
she hoped was her most alluring, little-girl-lost voice. "This slut would
very much like to offer her holes for a good hard fucking by her Master, if it
pleases you Sir."
"Not
just now, pet," Wade replied. "You'll be fucked when it suits us to
fuck you, not when you think you need a good hard fucking. We decide what you
need, now don't we?" "Oh yes, Sir," replied Rusty, breathlessly.
"But I so want to please you, Sir. If I have done anything wrong then
please tell me what it is - I am trying so hard to be an obedient pet slut for
you, Sir. I am so grateful that you captured and trained me, Sir. I just want
to be the best bitch possible for you."
Wade
smiled inwardly at the extent to which the once arrogant FBI agent had been
reduced to a grovelling, desperate nymphomaniac. He had seen it all before, of
course, with some sluts in training taken almost to the brink of insanity by
just a few days without orgasms and, not for the first time, he rejoiced in the
level of control this gave him over wanton female flesh.
"So
would you do anything to please me, little bitch?" he asked the slut on
her knees beneath him. "Anything at all?" "Oh yes, Sir, I will
do anything you ask of me but please, please, please let me cum," Scully
begged."Please."
"You
know, you should really be careful what you wish for, you stupid slut,"
Wade responded, a sadistic sneer on his face. "Because I have a little job
for you and if you do it well you will be granted one orgasm - but are you quite
sure that you'll do anything in order to be allowed to cum?"
"Yes
Sir, I'll do anything," Scully responded, her tone suddenly bleak as she
contemplated the lengths that she really would go to in order to experience an
orgasm. "Anything at all."
"Very
well," Wade answered. "I think you're about ready for the next stage
of your training. And with that the slave trainer uncuffed Rusty's hands from
behind her back, rose and walked from the room, with his tame and obedient pet
bitch crawing dutifully along behind him, the Holy Grail of a cum awaiting her,
or so she hoped. But at what terrible cost?
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