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STANDARD DISCLAIMER
===================
The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and
has only been posted to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is
found in any other place, it is not the responsibility of the author.
If you are not an ADULT of legal age, you should avoid this text and
find something more appropriate to read
All characters in this story are fictitious, and any similarity to
persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not
necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this
story, some of which are dangerous and/or illegal. Do not, under any
circumstances, try this at home.
CainePaine
CainePaine@gmail.com
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"hole Control"
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Abducted and caged, "hole" has no choice but to adapt to her newly and profoundly debased status as a sex slave. Pain, humiliation, and fear will force her to become the consummate fucktoy her twisted Owner desires.
(M/f, voyeurism, watersport, BDSM, slavery, latex, humiliation, NC, heavy, torture)
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hole is becoming perfect... more and more the ideal possession with every passing second.
She is a slave under my care... a fully-owned piece of property... pain-trained, obedient, and anxiously eager to please. To her frequent dismay, however, I am often only pleased by having her perform for Me... humiliating, perversely degrading acts of extreme depravity for my decadent, twisted pleasure.
hole is suffering for her Master at the moment, and this lesson, like all the fully-educational others, is taking her further along that inescapable road to harmonious perfection.
I watch her now as those vulnerable, porcelain facial features contort in alluring pain... her soft, pink lips wrapped around a large, jet-black ball, unejectable and saliva-slick. The vexing ball is the centerpiece of the ballgag trainer she wears, with heavy black, leather straps that hug her face like a demonic octopus, crisscrossing her entire head with its gripping tentacles.
hole knows that none of her mouth mechanics or meaningless tongue acrobatics have any hope of dislodging the leather octopus' dark, intrusive egg from her widely, sorely stretched mouth. Even if she had the use of her hands... which of course she does not... the small, hardened-steel padlock holding the leather, controlling tentacles firmly at the back of her head would prevent her from doing anything more than rubbing... petting my strictly binding head-toy.
She mewls painfully, pathetically through the small gaps between the ball and the edges of her widely stretched mouth, hoping to appeal to my rare merciful side. Alas, she knows the rules by now, and the electrical current from my "pain box" coursing through her anguished, punished feet must continue in order to complete this inexorable reminder in obedience. The pain box is highly programmable, and I have it carefully set to deliver random currents of intensity and duration, within controlled parameters.
hole will not soon be forgetting to keep her eyes on the ground, like a good slave-bitch. After two years under my watchful tutelage she certainly knows better...
I should say that hole's joining Me was in no way a matter of her own free will or choice... no, it came as quite a surprising shock to her, in fact. After a long search for someone who met all of my precise criteria... I took her. Oh, I may make it sound fast and easy, but I methodically planned every detail of hole's abduction... wait, no... her Deliverance.
I watched her for a full month. I found out as much as possible about her routines, her friends, her family... every intimate, personal detail available to Me about her heretofore uninteresting life:
She lived alone... check
She had no close neighbors... check
She had no ferocious, complicating pets... check
She had no ailments and needed no prescription medicine (I said I did my research)... check
She was a young, beautiful, raven-haired fucktoy, ripe and waiting to be plucked... oh yes, check
A sharp, pain-filled yelp distracts Me from my reverie.
Clearly one of the higher level jolts to the tender, delicate soles of her sculpted, currently immobilized feet. Her ankles are locked in wide, steel cuffs welded to the all-steel and imposingly heavy discipline chair on wheels in which she is currently seated and bound.
Long wires emanate from the pain box situated on the concrete floor, and run along the ground up to the black rubber, medical electro-pads attached by tenacious adhesive to the bottoms of her exposed feet.
Up top, she is wearing her usual tight-fitting body harness made of black leather straps wrapping sinuously around her chest and torso. The slave harness coils around her otherwise naked form in inch-wide and half-inch thick straps looping above and below her perky, unprotected breasts, while harshly compressing the malleable flesh, and jutting her vulnerable mammaries outward to nice effect. From the thick, solid O-ring resting over her taut stomach, two more fiendish straps snake down to either side of her fully-shaved, smooth pussy lips and reunite with the other buckled strap-ends at her back. At four points along her defenseless spine, the unassailable buckles are securely locked, ensuring complete irremovability by slave and continued enforcement of proper slave-apparel.
In addition to the harness, hole has her hands inextricably encased in heavy-duty, black leather puppy bondage mitts with locking steel wrist-cuffs... she currently lacks the power to flex her fingers or open her hands. And her slender wrists, like her feet, are further restrained by the wide, steel manacles welded to the joints of the monolithic chair.
hole's face is reddened and splotchy from desperate exertion, and her eyes, half-covered by the leather straps of the ballgag trainer, are puffy and swollen from crying.
Normally, she is responsible for her own consistently-enforced back posture, as she must remain aesthetically pleasing to her Owner as much of the time as is under her infrequent control. Feeling generous, however, I did her a favor and tightly wrapped the straps from the back of her slave-harness around the metal rails at the rear of the discipline chair, hence not allowing the distraction of her foot torture to interfere with her lady-like posture and earn her yet another severe punishment.
Sometimes I feel I spoil her.
But owning this slave is genuinely rewarding and well worth the hard work I put into her. That is the reason I take very good care of my property. Strong physical pain for hole while in permanent, humiliating servitude... and subject to constant and unavoidable emotional manipulation and control, yes...
permanent physical damage or scarring, no.
She will remain my possession for the long, foreseeable future, and I want her in top, performance-ready, physical condition.
I also admit that fucking my hole-slave and controlling her in every imaginable way gives Me unbelievable, endless pleasure, and I require that she keep up with the wide spectrum of my exacting demands.
Along with the harness straps at her back, she is additionally being helped to "keep up" by the large dose of caffeine I administered to her water and had her unknowingly consume before this session began with my play-pet a half-hour ago. Her eyes blink rapidly, and the nervous, uncontrollable jitters are visible even in her strictly bound state. But I love to keep hole in the "here and now," her mind very much alert to my thoughtful, loving ministrations.
Another series of powerful bolt-jolts to her feet... more shrill screams only partially dampened by the mouth-filling, rubber ballgag. I love to hear the sweet products of my thoroughly planned efforts. I see the muscles in her feet painfully contort as her body attempts to thrash in her unforgiving bonds, desperate to escape the vicious, muscle-cramping electricity. Her ankles are held tightly though and move not an inch. I would dare say that my growing erection in seeing her endure this unforgettable lesson is more movement than that of which her whole body is capable.
Damn, she is special... I could watch my now-broken cockslut all day long, and sometimes do. Happily, we share a lot of our free time with each other. I ensure that she is continuously catering to my personal, often intimate entertainment, while always made to understand, and fully internalize, her rather degradingly low status as personal property.
As I said, I love to spend time watching her.
I watched my prize a lot back in the beginning of our relationship...
After learning where my future acquisition resided, I watched her constantly from the thick woods across from her modest house, sometimes laying and waiting for very long, tedious hours to make sure I had her (and anyone else's around) patterns of movement logged in my detailed notes. Camouflage gear, high-powered binoculars, digital camera with zoom lens, notebook, pen, bottled water, and a pack of sandwiches and fruit were my ready companions during my long vigils. I always made sure I never left a single trace of myself, not even a bread crumb, to be found later by the police or pesky volunteer searchers. Plastic bags to contain my body's excretions were annoying, but well worth the extra precaution and effort.
hole's arrivals and departures turned out to pattern like clockwork, almost like she was offering Me a helping hand to make her mine... although I knew this was just a silly, errant, and boredom-inspired musing. I had a lot of time on my hands while secretly surveilling my potential property.
No, I knew that this beautiful creature enjoyed her freedom, and it was up to Me to make sure that she had zero chance to thwart my abruptly and permanently taking it away. I took extra care of the details upfront to guarantee that hole's future would be fully and solely under my complete control.
As it is now, here in my discipline chair...
hole's punishment continues to shape her mind to the model of obedience I require of her. I step closer to my immobilized and distressed bondage-puppet and gently pet her leather-crossed head, emotionally soothing my pet during her difficult but necessary torment.
I lean down and coo gently into her ear, "It will be over soon... and you're being such a good girl for Master."
I know she relishes My words. Through her pain, she cannot resist the waves of gratitude washing through her mind at even this small kindness from Me.
"you didn't mean to take your eyes off the ground this morning, did you?" I purr.
"Nnnawg Maffeur," she implores with difficulty around the gag, shaking her head in agreement, willing Me with every fiber of her over-worked being to believe her.
"I know... there, there," I gently reward her endurance of this lesson with kind words. "This will help my hole to follow the rules, won't it?"
"Aaaahhhhh!!!" shrilly pierces the air with saliva erupting from around the thick, shiny, slobbery mouth-ball... hole's body shakes to the limits of her leather and steel control-bindings.
Damn, that must have been a sharp one, I think, as she wails. After a minute, as the intensity of the electricity tapers off again and her tormented feet finally uncoil, I reach down and roughly pinch the pink, stiff bud of her left nipple, rolling the sensitive flesh cruelly between my fingers to produce another animated reaction.
"Won't it, hole?" I ask with calm menace in my voice, with derision on the mention of her name.
I certainly cannot have her ignoring my query because of a little slave discomfort.
"Ethh Maffeur," she sobs pitifully. She is shaking like a kinky leaf, and I am unsure whether this is due to the stimulant in her bloodstream, fear, weariness, or pain. Probably all of them combined, but it suits my purposes just fine. Plus, I know she can take it.
Did I mention I keep hole in peak physical condition? Plenty of fruits, vegetables, and healthy protein in various forms are ingested by, and administered to, my pet in interesting, often inventive ways. In fact, if she's been exceptionally well-behaved, I might permit her to dine like a fairy-tale princess. But, unfortunately for her, it is much more often required that she lick up her meals from the bare, concrete floor like a dog-bitch, no matter the meals' decidedly unappetizing, sometimes revolting content.
Personally, for the quickest, thrown-together slave meals, I suggest a powerful blender for the on-the-run, efficiency-seeking Owners of personal human property.
I eventually release hole's nipple-hold, to her visible relief, and have a seat in my comfortably padded leather chair not far away. I take a refreshing drink of the iced tea I brewed earlier, and set it down on the tall, thin glass table next to Me. Might as well make myself comfortable, I decide, as I put my feet up, waiting for the "pain box" program to run its steady course.
Idly, I continue to watch my property suffer.
Seeing her like this is, well... delicious... to which my currently throbbing, pulsing, rock-hard cock wholeheartedly testifies.
"No pain, no gain" works on so many levels here, both for hole and Me. Controlled pain, both emotional and physical, has led her so far away from that mainstream, freedom-loving, carefree girl she once was. After being subject to two years of my patient rule, with numerous painful reminders and unforgettable, mind-changing lessons in slave discipline along the way, hole knows that she belongs here with Me.. her Trainer... her caring, loving, and attentive Master.
Trust Me, I have given her several "opportunities," carefully-controlled of course, to leave. After a few poor, regretful choices in the beginning, hole knows now where she belongs, and will do anything (profoundly strong emphasis on "anything") to stay here with her Owner.
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However, hole was not always so submissively compliant to her Master, nor so fawningly accepting of her much-reduced position in life.
No, I remember her first day "home." It took her approximately ten hours to awaken. I had forced my captured prize to ingest a strong sedative before commencing the long drive home, and the drug was finally receding from her bloodstream.
I made certain that her first vision upon awakening was from the inside of a cage... forbiddingly solid, one-inch thick, welded metal bars surrounding her on all sides. This cage is perfectly cube-shaped, 4x4 foot, and triple-locked down the single hinged opening… in other words, inescapable.
She cannot help but also notice the five bright spotlights placed at even intervals around the cage in which she has just awoken, and shining directly down at her from their 6-foot stands. They partially blind her as she looks around, attempting to mentally register the unexpected new environment. Her just-opened, tightly squinting eyes see only ominous, dark shadows beyond the halo of light blessing her immutable confinement.
She realizes that she is stark naked, nude as the day she was born... and that the slight, metallic jangling noise is coming from the rounded and seamless, stainless steel collar about her delicate neck. Furthermore, a heavy-duty, two-foot chain is locked to the collar and descends to connect my slave to the middle of the cold, hard floor of her cage.
A proper welcome for my brand new fucktoy...
It is not more than seconds before worry and panic take hold of her confused mind. Her unsteady hands instinctively and frantically grab at the chain links, up to the heavy padlock, anxiously but unsuccessfully attempting to pull it away from her throat; the two-foot tether severely limiting her range within her new slave-cage.
"He..Hello...?" she croaks weakly from her parched throat, eyes searching.
"Hello...!" she calls out again, this time louder and with more plaintive, worried desperation.
Silence is the only reply.
From the deep shadows, I soundlessly watch my new pet, my new "hole", in the first few deliciously captivating moments of her rebirth.
She quickly shifts to her knees and tests the vertical rods containing her, obviously hoping for some sign of weakness. However, she is unaware that I spared no expense in choosing this unyielding, precision-welded cage that would defy even a grizzly bear's enraged efforts.
I must check the four high-end digital video cameras I have strategically placed in the darkness around my pet's confinement. Along with the expensive microphone currently hidden on top of her cage, the cameras will record hole's every movement, utterance, and lovely reaction here under my care; exceptional recordings of hole's ongoing, controlled life that will forever be available for future re-enjoyment.
They work perfectly, as expected from earlier trials and meticulous planning.
The shocked, frightened girl begins to cry pitiably at her unbelievable nightmare of a predicament... and I remotely zoom in with cameras 2 and 3 to digitally capture her wide, darting eyes... along with every sparkling tear rolling down her smooth cheeks.
Yes, after such a long wait, hole is finally home.
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Unbeknownst to her, hole's training began the moment she woke in her cage.
I still had important loose ends to tie up after transporting hole home, so after witnessing her beautiful awakening, I quickly left hole with the essential items she would need for the start of her education:
1) an endless supply of water available to her via an all-metallic, hamster-style water tube bolted to the top of her cage, and fed by reinforced plastic pipes descending from directly overhead
2) an extra-large, empty coffee can with plastic covering lid
3) and two rolls of cheap, plain-white toilet paper
Upon my return six hours later, I watch in delight the crystal-clear recordings of my pet availing herself of the thoughtful items I generously provided her.
I start the playback at the Master console, located in a separate room and bedecked with six high-definition LCD monitors for maximum viewing pleasure from all angles.
I am amused seeing her forcefully yanking at the watering tube, obviously testing the simple hardware and releasing some inner aggression, but it is unshakable and moves not a millimeter, despite her comparably pathetic efforts. Nor does a single drop of water leak out thanks to the ball-bearing situated in the mouth of the steel tube.
During her continued exploration, I see her swallow painfully several times due to her overly dry throat. I think she must have seen a gerbil cage before, and it is only three hours into the recording before she reluctantly imitates the caged rodent, unable to resist her stale thirst any longer.
Once she begins to suck at the tube, she cannot get enough of the soothing liquid.
"That's my little hamster," I muse in my head, reaching down to squeeze my engorged member.
After satiating her incredible thirst, I see her continue to periodically test the deviously inflexible bars of her 4x4 prison with ever-increasing frustration. Her pleading calls for rescue, or even simple answers, go seemingly unnoticed or unheeded. I see bouts of desolate crying, her whole body shaking as she considers and fears every possible horrifying implication of her unknown, yet terrifying situation.
After some time, and further unproductive, futile struggles, it finally begins to show that her bladder has caught up with her earlier exuberant thirst-quenching, and she clearly has no access to a bathroom.
With previous tears not quite dry on her troubled face, a new wave of sobbing begins as she hesitantly fingers and contemplates the empty coffee tin. If at first she was not sure of its purpose, she now has no doubt.
I watch the screen riveted, seeing the disgust, reluctance, and humiliation play across her innocent face. She is evidently waiting to make sure she has exhausted all other possible options.
Finally, after a few anxiety-filled moments spent performing the pee-pee dance, her naked crotch gyrating in the air to my visual enjoyment, she squats, and positions the can beneath her full bladder. The height which she can reach is limited by the psychologically-intimidating chain insistently tethering her stainless steel-wrapped neck to the bare floor of her cage.
Watery, tin tinkles break the silence, along with a short, feminine moan of fulfilled yet humiliated release... hole tilts her head back in temporary, crying respite as her shoulders finally relax.
It is not necessarily the sight of a gorgeous female peeing that does it for Me, but the power to control even that requisite bodily function that I ultimately savor.
I watch my new toy finish the embarrassing act, and then switch to the current live shot from each of the four pan-tilt-zoom-ready remote cameras.
Twelve hours after her limited, but impactful introduction to her bizarre new home, hole is finally resting... her long, dark hair fanned crazily around her head, her body supine, positioned fetally, hugging herself, as she temporarily escapes the waking nightmare through sleep... exhausted, fitful sleep.
I decide to sleep myself, and go upstairs for well-deserved rest. I crawl into my satisfyingly cozy, king-size bed with luxuriously accommodating sheets of 1200 thread-count egyptian cotton.
The elation of acquiring my new slave and the thought of undreamed-of possibilities momentarily deprive Me of sleep, however. I lay in bed and think of my new pet, caged downstairs… I will leave her alone for the time being to ponder her unknown, but clearly ominous fate.
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"Hello, hole," my voice suddenly shatters the silence from the looming darkness.
hole has now been alone for two straight, seemingly endless days... in her unyielding cage without food... with no change in her now-monotonous environment... and without a single moment of interaction, or word from her Captor.
She is beyond desperate for answers... not to mention... food.
This is the perfect time to make a few things clear.
Her whole body jumps at the sudden sound of my voice, and she scrambles to cover her nakedness, to protect herself from unknown danger.
I am amused that she is completely unaware of the multiple recording devices continuously trained on her. And like now, I have always made sure to stay completely hidden in the shadows while watching her these last few days.
"hello...?" her reply comes weakly, after so long in fear and uncertainty, coupled with a lack of nourishment.
"Repeat after Me," I firmly direct her from the darkness. "My name is hole."
The questioning, dumbstruck look on her face is priceless. Somehow I get the impression this is not the interchange she was hoping for.
"What?... please let me go," she pleads. Her arms are crossed over her pert breasts, bare legs pressed firmly together as she squats on the balls of her unsteady feet. She does not want Me to see her forced nudity.
I convey my instruction again, voice stern. "Repeat after Me, my name is hole."
Her head shakes from side to side in confusion. "Please... my, my name is Ann... I don't know what you're talking about... please let me go," her voice breaking in upset.
After a few minutes, and upon receiving no further reply, fresh tears begin to leak from the swollen corners of her eyes, and she droops her head towards the ground in weary despair, still turning it in denial. Her shaking form causes the sweet melody of rattling chain to greet my ears. I love the fact that her lovely neck is bound to the floor of her already inescapable cage, further negating any possible dreams of flight.
"Hello?" she raises her head and tries again, still failing to follow my simple instruction.
Sort of what I was expecting though... she is not ready... hole needs more time.
I happily and patiently oblige, and depart on silent feet.
The next several hours are interrupted with frequent screams of "let me out of here!", sometimes demanding, sometimes imploring, but always desperate.
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"Hello, hole."
I am back again. This is now the fourth time I have greeted her in the same manner, with the same clear instruction. Unfortunately for her, she has failed to obey thus far.
But this time I bear a potential, enticing gift. Not in response to her lack of compliance to my order, but in keeping with the original plans I made before her arrival, in anticipation of her expected reluctance.
I have surprised her once again, jerked her mind away from whatever unimportant daydream she was indulging.
She throws herself at the steel bars, despite her weakness, and wraps her lithesome fingers around the cold metal of her prison, searching again for the source of my voice. Her fatigued eyes dart back and forth, attempting to pierce the ever-present darkness beyond the brilliant spotlights.
She sees nothing... but... does sense something new, I notice, from her deep inhalation and flare of nostrils.
Bacon.
I have had vegetarian acquaintances admit their own salivation at the reminiscent, never-forgotten smell of bacon. It has now been three long, tedious days that hole has gone without food... and hole is no vegetarian.
My gloved hand slowly emerges from the black obscurity, and neatly places the stacked BLT sandwich and its plate five feet away from the edge of hole's lonely sanctuary.
hole is all eyes, most likely unaware of her own lip-licking. She covers her pink nipples with her elbows as she squats closer to the bars, defending the modesty she laughably believes she still controls.
"Hello... please, I'm starving, please let me go. Why am I here?... hello?... please, you don't have to do this... just let me go and I won't tell anyone, I promise... just let me go and I won't say anything or talk to anyone.. please... hello? I just want to go home... please... please..." the desperation drips from her voice, as the now-familiar refrains pass her hopeful, beseeching lips. "I have money in the bank, my family has money... they'll give it to you... hello?"
"Repeat after Me," I calmly reply. "My name is hole."
hole squeezes her beleaguered eyes shut tightly, and her fingers tighten around the now-familiar bars, an unconscious attempt to gain some control over this un-winnable situation.
Deep hunger and bone-weariness decide her reply this time as her thin shoulders slump in sad resignation.
"My name is hole," she reluctantly mumbles under her breath, eyes still dizzily fixed on the mouth-watering sandwich.
"Louder, hole," with authority.
"My name is hole," she repeats in a louder, but unfortunately irritated, annoyed voice.
"Say it nicely, hole," I command. "What is your name?"
Quiet, racking sobs of defeat. Her chest heaves breath, but after a few seconds she manages a tearful, "My name is hole." This time, obediently and meekly as desired.
So many possibilities, and nothing but time for training this beautiful creature, I think, fulfilled. I have successfully taught hole her slave-name. I am proud of my patient achievement, and I take the long pole I brought along for this purpose and push hole's first meal to within the grasping reach of her hungry, frantic fingers.
End of part 1
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I welcome remarks about my stories, either appreciative or critical. All comments received, now and in the future, inspire me to continue to write.
Truly yours,
CainePaine
CainePaine@gmail.com
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