hole Control

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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" - part 2

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Before Me on the ample, glass dining table is spread hole's entire life.  Sprawled across its expansive surface are her driver's license, photo albums, credit cards, daily planner, laptop computer, high school notebooks, trip albums, bank account statements, collection of purses, school yearbooks, and finally, the real treasure: seven of her personally handwritten diaries starting from the age of 13.  Having thought ahead, I made sure to collect everything informative or useful from hole's quaint, brick house before I absconded with my new, drugged and incapacitated fucktoy.

It's 11:15 in the morning, and I sit back, sipping my cafe latte, lazily flipping through one of her colorfully decorated photo albums.  This one contains more recent pictures of her life... barbecues, weddings, a trip to Las Vegas, outings with friends to the beach.  As I further acquaint myself with my new confiscation, I come across photos of her family.

I lean down to focus more closely on a group picture, apparently taken at Easter, showing hole's parents and two younger, stunning, entirely fuckworthy... sisters.  My cock twitches as I read the handwritten caption below, showing their names: 'Sarah', another cute, thin brunette like hole, and 'Heather', a sweet, long-haired dream of a blonde. 

Wow, given the choice between the two hottie sisters and my hole, I would have a very tough decision to make.  Looking at their fit mother, I see where the attractive trio of sirens obtained their exquisite genes.

Even though the toaster ejected my breakfast minutes ago, I find it difficult to interrupt my absorbed study of hole's history and more recent life.  Earlier, I began reading her first diary, started when she was in grade school.  Her loopy, exaggerated, cursive writing in loud neon colors makes the task a challenge, and the adolescent drama she endlessly frets over is a bit irritating.  But, I intend to read every juvenile word, because commanding an intimate knowledge of my slave and her motivations will facilitate my breaking and training of her to an exceptional degree.  And, psychologically manipulating her... mindfucking her will be so much more effective, not to mention delightfully intrusive, using her privately written thoughts against her.

The alarm on my digital watch suddenly beeps, reminding Me to stay on schedule.  I replace the last few bank statements I was reviewing, putting them back in order in a neat pile. 

I have an appointment with hole soon, a closer, more hands-on interview.  As I stand up to prepare for our first real session together, I peal back the topmost picture album's clear film covering, and remove two quality, close-up photos of hole's enticing younger sisters.  I decide I will display them up on my main console's monitor for inspiration.  Because once hole's training is well under way, I plan to research the whereabouts of these two delectable cockteases and consider new possibilities.

At the very least, I will derive sordid pleasure from threatening to bring hole's two gorgeous siblings here to join her in my spacious, below-ground, well-appointed dungeon.  I will simply describe to her in lurid, graphic detail the many vulgar acts they will all be made to perform together, required displays of unnatural sisterly love for my dark, lascivious entertainment.  I smile, thinking the abhorrent threat will be a cruel weapon of leverage to use against my unsuspecting slave's already weakened spirit.

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It is the middle of day 5, and hole is making continuous progress, her attitude shifting manifestly away from her earlier righteous indignation at her 'unfair' treatment.  If nothing else, I believe my imprisoned, collared bitch has learned it's better not to bite the hand that feeds her.

Restless frequently, shifting discontented in her severe cage, she has given up screaming for rescue.  After so many days, she obviously understands now that no one will come.  Soulful bouts of crying and despair still occasionally assault my slavetoy, but she is adjusting to her radically changed life.

She knows her name now, for example, but she is still ignorant of who she really is.  Despite her continued verbal acknowledgement of her new moniker, she still thinks of herself as her own woman.  She still considers the pursuit of her own happiness to be her top priority.  It's my personal mission to teach her how wrong she is, that she has very different goals now, that she is no longer a 'person' in the usual sense.  Her wants and needs ceased to be important days ago, invalidated the moment I captured her.  And, independent of Me and my pleasure, she has no purpose anymore, no real raison d'etre.  Certainly, time and effort will be required, but I will eventually make her see that she takes additional breaths now only as a necessity to continue serving Me.  And breathing, along with every other action she is allowed to perform in the future, will only occur as long as her Owner, Me or another, permits.

But, enough about her current wayward attitude.  It's time for the dark Lord of this manor to make an entrance into the chamber below, and more suitably, fully greet his prize.

I step wordlessly towards her steel cage, my entire figure finally emerging into the light after so many days hidden.  I am cloaked, shrouded from crown to foot in macabre black like a demon revenant.  My dark, joyless, full-length robe skims the spotless floor as I glide closer, its deep, enveloping hood raised forward over my head.  Under its shadow, the tenebrous, full-face mask I wear is almost entirely concealed.  In this way, I am able to shield my identity from my pet, and retain a powerful aura of baleful mystery.

However, this cumbersome raiment is only temporary, one solution to the problem of remaining obscured from her sight.  In my right, gloved hand I hold a black, padded-leather, open-mouthed, sensory deprivation hood I ordered from a prestigious bondage boutique out of California.  I bought it, custom-tailored, just for her.  Considering the strictness of the fetish accessory, I'm positive she would prefer a different sort of relief from her ongoing monotony, but at least boredom won't be one of her problems for the next several hours.

In my other sleeve-draped, gloved hand I loosely grasp a red, three foot long cattle prod with twin, conductive prongs at its end.  Expecting a bit of shyness on her part after seeing the daunting hood, I carry this implement of persuasion, with a pair of police-issue handcuffs tucked into a fold of my robe.

"Hello, hole, tell Me your name," I test yet again.  But, this time I stand like a phantom wraith, hovering in front of her, as if I journeyed across the river Styx in order to arrive here and claim her eternally damned soul.  The cattle prod will necessarily have to act as the scythe for this dark reaper.

My shaded eyes rove her naked, disheveled form.  Her bare skin is too oily, and smudged in various places.  Matted and unbrushed, her long brunette hair is a tangled, greasy mess.  she is definitely in need of a good scrub-down.  I breathe shallowly, so the ripe smells fail to reach my olfactory nerve.  Watching patiently, enjoying her unkempt vulnerability, I await her reply.

My cunt-slave has responded appropriately to my prompts every time for the last two days, ever since she received her first meal.  I am pleased that she has made the logical connection between obedience and reward like a good girl.

"My name is hole," she replies wide-eyed, voice unsure.  She looks terrified.  Before now, she has seen nothing of Me but a few fingers of my right glove, and now her hands are pale and shaking as they grip the iron bars nearest Me.  The relentless, tight collar ringing her delicate neck still fetters her closely to the cage floor behind her by its thick, 2-foot long, clinking chain.

"That's right, hole, and allow Me to introduce myself.  I am your Owner, and you will always address Me as 'Master'.  You've been such a good girl lately that I think it's time to clean you up and let you out of that cage.  Will you continue to mind Master like a good girl?"

"Yes, please, let me out."  Her grubby hands release and tighten their tenuous grasp of the solid bars as if she is kneading dough, excited perhaps by any sort of change in her desperate circumstances.

Really, I know she would bolt out of here like a bunny rabbit caught on fire given the slightest chance.  However, she must have realized by now that her only rational move is to pretend full cooperation until she can make a clean break for the nearest exit.  I will gladly use her false obeisance to my benefit. 

Looking appraisingly down at her, I realize how much of a caged animal I have turned my untested cockslave into.  Her water is obtained through a rodent-style tube she has to suck at.  She depends on my questionable kindness for food, and right now she is a frightened, filthy little beast.  I grin, thinking that at least she's potty-trained, always dutifully covering up her waste with the plastic lid of her over-sized coffee can.

"'Yes, Master' you mean.  You will call Me 'Master' every time you speak... do you understand, hole?"

"yes, Master, please, please let me out."

"First, a few agenda items.  You have two choices here.  In this hand, I have a simple hood for you to wear, and once you're clean again, I will put it on you."  I innocently hold up the headwear for her cursory inspection.  Her eyes shift nervously between it and the darkness under my cowl.

"In this hand is my pain-stick.  If you fail to choose the hood, or if you balk at any of my other commands, I will shock you all over your dirty, putrid body for the next few minutes.  Then, hours from now I will return and offer the same two options.  What's your preference, my pet?"

Looking to the ground, seeming not quite as anxious about escaping the metal nest of bars, she murmurs, "I'll take the hood... Master."  The honorific she mutters through clenched teeth.

"Tsk tsk," I chide, "hole, you are a slave now, an object that I own.  You are not to use the words 'I', 'me', or 'mine', as they no longer apply.  Proper slaves refer to themselves in the third person.  So, repeat after Me, 'this hole will take the hood, Master'."

She takes a deep, ponderous breath, biting her lip before answering.  Her eyes remain staring at the concrete floor.  "This hole will take the hood, Master."

"I can't hear you, hole.  You will speak up when addressing Me.  Now, try again."  I swing the hanging cattle prod idly between my fingers.

"This hole will take the hood, Master."  Louder, but bordering on impatient insolence.  I decide to let that slide for now, considering the imminent lessons I have in mind for my girltoy.

Plus, I am delighted that my deliberate plan has been working.  Leaving hole alone for days in her brightly illuminated cage, starved for food and attention, has saved Me hours of needless work.  Her loneliness and fear have been the ideal tools to use against her, and now she is ready and tractable.  Except for my initial planning and well-executed abduction of her, I haven't really needed to lift a Dominant finger since then to render my possession so meek.

"See, I thought you might make the smart choice.  Now, it's time to tidy up my dirty little piggy, because right now you're absolutely repellent."  I turn and withdraw back into the shadows, depositing the hood and prod on a sturdy table located next to a large, well-furnished equipment closet.

Prepared a few minutes ago and left hanging from the edge of the same table is a portable, rubber, 3-gallon rain shower, the sort used for camping.  I retrieve that, a plastic bottle of strawberry-scented body wash, and a scrub sponge.

Striding slowly again toward the spotlight-ringed cage, I lift the rain shower above hole, and suspend it from a metal hook, which is clamp-attached to the descending vertical pipe that feeds her watering tube. 

Without warning, I open the cheap spigot, allowing the cold water to sprinkle out and douse my soiled urchin.  She yelps in surprise, scrambling around, attempting to avoid the unexpected, chilly splash falling on her unguarded skin. 

I would have thought she had learned the limits of her neck-chain by now, but the jarring shock on her face as she is abruptly brought up short, head jerked trying to escape the icy downpour shows she hasn't.

I turn off the spigot, stopping the flow.  "Take this sponge, piggy, and scrub every inch of you.  And don't neglect your insides.  I'm sure that juicy pussy and tight ass need some attention, too.  If I find a single spot that hasn't been cleaned well enough, I will do it myself and scour you raw with a wire brush.  Yes, Master?" 

"Yes, Master."  Her shoulders are hunched, arms folded around herself, shivering, but she obediently accepts the sponge.

I open the bottle of fruity-smelling body wash and up-end it over her cage, letting a copious amount of the soap dribble all over her mess of snarled hair and other grimy parts.  Her eyes squint, blinking upward as she raises her hands to block the harmless fluid assault.  The red, gooey liquid pours through her fingers.

"Go ahead, slave.  I want you squeaky clean."  This time I wait a few moments to see if she will deliver the correct response, but alas... 

"What do you say when Master gives you an order, cunt?"  Angry, threatening vehemence tinges my voice.

"Yes, Master."  she looks up at my shadowed face, and leans away warily.

"If I have to remind you again, you'll get the pain-stick, do you understand, bitch?"

Nodding her damp head, hair dripping soap, she quickly says, "yes, Master," and swallows.

"What are you waiting for?  Start scrubbing!"  I shake my head in feigned disbelief.  "I'm starting to think you're a bit retarded.  Do I have a retard on my hands, is that it?"

"No, Master," she says, now beginning to sniffle and blubber as she quickly runs the sponge over her arms, working up a foamy lather.

When every part of her is thoroughly covered in suds, I reach up and again release the flow of water.  hole pants, sucking in air, and her mouth forms an O-shape as her skin is icily drenched once more.  The excess water runs off into the downsloping drain below her cage.

Eventually, I retrieve a thick, plush towel and allow my finally clean petgirl to dry off.  "Now, turn around like a good slut with your back to Me and put your hands through the bars.  And don't make Me wait.  Yes, Master?"

"Yes, Master.  Uuhhh, can I ask, um, a question first, Master?" she says diffidently.

I shake my head.  "Hmmm, I was right, definitely a simpleton.  I see an owned piece of slave meat in front of Me.  There's no 'I', only an 'it'.  Are you trying to be difficult, hole?" I ask with incredulity in my tone.

"I’m sor... uhhh, this hole is sorry, Master.  Can this hole ask a question?"

I stare down at her in silence.  All clean now, and seemingly attempting to act like a good slave girl, she is reminding Me why I picked her in the first place.  She is nearly irresistible.  Her stunning, fresh face should be gracing the bright, glossy pages of a fashion magazine.  And her exceptional, young body, flat stomach, and firm ass are a living dream to witness.  Her stiff, pert nipples stand out from her full, heavy breasts, and call to Me, primally urging a carnal joining.  The heated stirrings of my cock beneath my reaper's robe cause Me to rethink my deliberately slow plan for her.

"No, you twat.  I may allow you to ask a question when your dimwitted brain accepts your new status.  Until then, keep your mouth shut until I have better use for it.  Now, do I have to repeat my instructions, cunt?"

"No, Master."  Turning around on her ass, knees against her chest, she stretches the chain hanging from her collar to its limit as she sticks her lovely hands through the bars behind her. 

I waste no time, and immediately kneel to ratchet the handcuffs firmly closed around her wrists, trapping them there by utilizing the iron bar between.  Her movement is even further limited now with her neck bent forward, tethered in the opposite direction from her pinned, fully extended arms.

I rise and go to the table to collect the hood and cattle prod.  I also decide it's time for an educational demonstration.

Turning her head back toward Me, she sees the electrical prongs coming at her, but she is helpless to prevent its malignant touch.  As soon as the prongs make contact with the creamy skin between her shoulder blades, I fully squeeze the handle's trigger. 

hole erupts in pain, jerking her wrists violently away from Me, banging the chain of her cuffs metallically, maniacally against the cage-bar.  She screams, high-pitched in agony as I keep the electricity flowing through her straining back.  Eyes dilated in hysteria, she anxiously tries to glimpse the torturous object stabbing her with its debilitating current, her head twisting from side to side over both shoulders, her damp, dark hair flying wildly.

I momentarily decide she's had a sufficient introduction to my pain-stick and pull it away from her.  "In the future, you can remember to speak like a proper slave-cunt, yes?"

hole is still wailing, her whole body racked by the force of her sobs.  I adore the effect her tearful shaking has on her slender, quaking limbs.  Her lowered head bounces between her knees as the tears fall. 

But, my straightforward lesson worked, because despite her pitiful squalling, she manages, "yes, Master, this, this hole is sorry, Master, please..."  Her words are nearly unintelligible, broken up as they are by her full-body laments.  But, I graciously forgive her, and silently reward her with a B+ for effort.

"That's much better, hole.  I had a feeling you must have some tiny spark of intelligence in that pea-brain, even if I have to shock it out of you.  Now, tilt your head back."

She nervously looks over her shoulder at Me again, but seeing both my hands innocuously holding the hood open, with no other pain devices looming, she reticently acquiesces, whimpering.  I gather her long, still-damp hair away from her shoulders, enjoying the fresh scent of her, before pulling the padded-leather hood down over her fetching, defenseless head.

It's an ingeniously designed piece of bondage equipment, meant to be worn for extended lengths of time with the wearer in silky, padded comfort.  It contours perfectly to the shape of her neck and head, encasing them both entirely, except for the open, wide mouth area, and two tiny grommet holes below her nostrils.  As I begin to close it in back, I first fold down the two inside latex flaps over her hair to prevent the strands from getting caught.  Next, I pull the vertical line of nylon lacing tighter in back, causing the entire hood to adhere closely to her skull.  I'm amazed at the level of craftsmanship, tying off the laces at the bottom, and then pulling the outside zipper down from the top to join the final two exterior layers of fine leather together, sealing her in.  The coup de grace arrives with my inserting a small, durable lock through the eye of the zipper and through the reinforced rivet at the base of her neck, clicking the lock shut.  Lacking the key, or something extremely sharp and a whole lot of time, even hands free, hole will never be able to remove the substantial leather helmet on her own.

I regain my feet, admiring my handiwork.  I can't help myself, but pause and take a deep breath.  My swollen cock is at full, throbbing attention as I consider the level of control I have over this unbelievable specimen of beauty.  These thoughts I keep to myself, however...

"Ok, let's have a look.  Oh yes, much better.  At first I was thinking you just needed a bath, hole, but that didn't help at all.  Seriously, did you never consider getting a nose job?  Or having surgery to fix those awful cheekbones?  At least I don't have to see that plain, unattractive face of yours now.  Your body can maybe be fixed if we get some of that disgusting fat off you, but those big, ugly cow-tits hanging from your chest sort of ruin the picture.  Oh well, I guess one has to work with the raw, homely materials one is given.  It's no wonder, though, that you never made it out of that small town I found you in.  I actually did you a favor," I laugh.

hole's leather-imprisoned head sinks further between her knees as I deliver the stinging verbal barbs, and I can tell she is still crying by the fragile shaking of her back.

With no worries now about a possible escape, I begin to release her bindings, starting with her handcuffs.  Upon their removal, I smile watching hole tentatively, blindly probe the thick layer of leather encasing her head.  Even more entertaining, her hands quickly find the lock in back, and I savor the inevitable conclusion she must reach regarding the impossibility of the hood's extraction without the key. 

Continuing my task, I disengage the three heavy-duty locks barring the hinged door to her cage.  hole's head turns toward Me upon hearing the metallic squeal of its opening, but her options are pathetically limited without her precious sight to guide her.  She sits quietly even as I unlock the chain from her collar, waiting like a good little slut.

After five days straight in her dull, square cell, hole finally gets her wish, crawling out through the small opening, but with my hand securely gripping her collar.

"That's a good girl.  I don't plan to use my pain-stick again as long as you behave and follow the rules.  Do you think you can do that for Master?"  I speak down to her as if offering a possible treat to a child.

"yes, Master."  Her slight insubordination from earlier seems to have completely disappeared for now.  It really is astonishing how docile a slave becomes when you deprive them of sight.  Of course, a healthy dose of electricity goes a long way, too.  I'll proceed with my usual, paranoid caution, but I expect she won't be any trouble for a while.

"Kneel right there for Me, slave.  Lace your fingers behind your head with your elbows straight out to the sides.  Correct.  Now, lift your chin up, and keep your back perfectly straight."  As she arches, I see her generous, fat tits lift seductively, as if offering themselves up as sacrificial gifts to Me, her Master.  "Spread your knees wide open.  This is the position you assume whenever I say 'kneel', understand?  If you don't pose properly for Master, I will have to give you corrective lessons I'm certain you won't enjoy."

"Yes, Master."  So vulnerable, so lovely, she complies.

I have to force myself again not to throw her to the ground and have my sinful way with her.  Her flawless, tender body lights a feral fire in my loins.  The only reason I've been able to desist so far is my frequent episodes of jacking off to her image and inescapable predicament.  The transmitted sight of her up on my high-definition widescreens as she endures her long days of taxing confinement, entirely subject to another's oppressive rule for the rest of her life, has been incentive enough for my quite explosive orgasms.

With hole now sightless, I am happily confident to shed my disguise at last.  I remove my heavy black robe, leather gloves, steel-toed boots and socks, and black facemask, setting them all on the table.  I am much more comfortable like this, wearing a simple, black t-shirt, lounge pants, and nothing else.  My raging boner tents out the crotch of my pants, and I stroke it, squeezing its hardness through the soft cotton, only inches away from hole's exposed, alluring mouth.

"Master, please, what are you going to do to me?"

I drop to one knee immediately and wrap both hands roughly around her slender throat, squeezing hard enough to attract her unwavering attention.  Leaning in close to the bulging leather at her ear, I ask menacingly, "What did I say about speaking without permission, slut?  And, you're an 'it', not a 'me'."  I give her neck a firm shake.

Her hands fall out of position, and latch on to my wrists tightly.

"Did I tell you to move, hole?!!" I yell, exasperated, directly at the side of her hood.  "Where did I put my pain-stick?"

"No, Master, please, i'm... uuhm, this hole is sorry, Master."  she releases her grasp, and raises her hands again to the back of her hood.  The muscles of her mouth are now tensely twitching downward, as if she's about to resume her useless bawling.

I relax my throttle-hold, and step back from my toy.  She is kneeling correctly again, but her arms and perfect, round tits are trembling like she's a nervous chihuahua, maybe because I mentioned the cattle prod. 

"I don't know why you find it impossible to follow simple orders.  I let you out of your cage and treat you with such kindness, and this is the thanks I get.  I guess another week or so alone in your cage might help you behave.  Is that what you need?"

"No, Master, this hole will be good, please don't put this hole back in there."  A lone tear appears from under the hood, and rolls wetly across her pink, sweet lips.

I gently lay my hand on top of her head, caressing the soft, expensive leather, solicitously petting my bondage doll.  "There, there, my good girl.  You just kneel properly, and do what Master tells you."  I let my hand drift slowly downward, running my palm along her smooth back, relishing the supple feel of my toy.  "See?  Everything will be alright, you just have to obey Master.  That's all."

Leaving her for a moment, I go collect a leather leash from the equipment closet, and return to clip it to the metal D-ring attached to the top of her hood.  "I want you down on all fours now, hole.  Walk toward the sound of my voice like a good doggy slut.  That's it," I encourage her.

I continue to lead her crawling away from the harsh ring of lights, through a side door to the adjacent room where all of my heavy bondage furniture and other assorted, larger implements of immorality await.

It's time to install hole in a place where I can really spend some time getting to know her.

End of part 2

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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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