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CHAPTER 11
The Making of a Mistress
Master Dave had been watching Zero’s ordeal along with Mistress White. “She really broke her quickly, and I
like that she did not rely on pure pain.”
“Yes,” said Mistress White, “We have found that pain must be
combined with total humiliation to be effective. Without humiliation, pain can
create resentment and hostility. What we look to create is a sense in the slave
of its complete worthlessness. When the slave is convinced that it is
worthless, it will be honored to serve, to bear pain, eager to please. We have
done that with our sissy men for years. It is no different with bitches than it
is for sissy sluts.”
“There I disagree with you,” said Master Dave, “but only in detail. I believe in
letting the slave know that her obedience and service is valued, but we make it
clear that her obedience and service is her only value. We want her to feel
pride in her slavery. We want her only desire to be the best slave in the
world, and to understand that even the best slave in the world has value only
in her obedience. When we sell the slaves at auction, the opening bid is $500.
That really means a bid of $500,000. Most slaves sell for between $1,000,000.
and $2,000,000. We would never let the slaves know their real sales price. We
let them think that they were purchased for petty cash, a thousand, two
thousand or maybe three thousand dollars for a special slave. They will never
get the idea that they have any real value, except as they satisfy their master’s.”
“I see what you mean. We tear down the
slave completely. You try to give the slave pride in its slavery.”
“Yes, that’s it exactly. Our slaves are
constantly trying to become better slaves.”
Mistress White considered what she
heard. “That’s probably because you really like
women, while Mistress Black and myself really hate men.”
“Like women? I love women! I think
women are God’s
gift to men. They give me great joy. They look good, they smell good, they feel
good. They can give men the greatest pleasure. Our cocks are made to fit snugly
in their mouths, their asses and their mouths . They can come so often. And
watching them have pleasure gives me pleasure. Of course I love women. They
must, however, be aware of their role, their purpose. They are made to please
their masters. Any pleasure they receive is for the pleasure of their master,
not for themselves. That is the joy of
training them. To bring out their full value. If you were driving a car, would
you rather have an old Ford Pinto, or a new Porsche or a Ferrari? But the
Porsche never thinks that I am meant to be it’s driver. I value the Porsche, and
take good care of it. I value the women that I come into contact with, I value
the women that I train. I just make sure that they understand what it is that I
value. I value most of all, obedience and willingness, no, eagerness to please.
I value the ability to bear pain. Not every women has that ability, and some of
our trainees have that noted on their files when they are sold. Their new
owners, of course, can treat them any way they wish, but certain slaves come
with our recommendation that too much pain will be counterproductive. My own slave,
Shiteater, loves pain. When I don’t give her enough pain she feels
ignored. When I whip her harshly, her cunt gets all wet. She has to fight not
to come without permission. Yes, part of that is our training, but part is
genetic talent. But tell me, why do you hate men?”
“My mother died when I was 11. She was
hit by a car while out taking a walk late one night. I can never prove it, but
I think she was running away from my her boyfriend, who, I believe, abused her.
My real father died when I was a baby. He was killed in a terrorist incident
and my mother was forced to raise me by herself. She had told me the facts of
life, but it was only 6 months after she died that I had my first period. I
remember I had to ask my mother’s
boyfriend, he continued to live in our house and raise me, for money to buy
Kotex. I was so embarrassed. He gave me this strange look. A week later, he
came to my room at night and started telling me how lonely he was since Mom
died. To make a long story short, he started using me that night and continued
using me for years. At first he was gentle and loving. The first time he played
with my tits forever before he started playing with my cunt. He brought me to
one climax with his fingers and one with his tongue before he “explained” to me his physical need and asked me
if I didn’t
want to make him “feel
good.”
He tricked me into begging him to “make me a woman”, “to put his cock into my hot pussy”. Later, when I threatened to go to
the police, he played the tapes he secretly made. I knew I could not tell
anyone what happened because even if he went to jail I would be destroyed.
“But that is getting ahead of the
story. That first night he was as gentle as he could be. When he placed his
cock into my small tight pussy he was gentle and slow. He waited till I
absorbed the pain of the initial penetration and then he controlled himself
until I was about to come, when he pumped a little harder and came with me. He
told me how happy I made him and what a good little girl I was. He kissed me
goodnight.
He continued to pay me nightly visits
and he would often buy me presents, a special dress, a hot CD, new shoes.
Sometimes he would just give me twenty dollars and told me that I could spend
it on anything that I wanted. I thought twenty dollars was a fortune. What a
cheap whore he made me.
“Anyway, as time passed, he started
treating me rougher and rougher. He started to use my mouth. After all, he used
his tongue on me, fair was fair. When I grew a little older, when I had my
periods, he would fuck me in the ass. He spent less and less time getting me
ready and was rougher and rougher, biting my tits, biting my cunt lips,
slapping my ass. Instead of calling me his good little girl, he would call me
his little slut, his cheap whore. This is when I threatened to tell the cops
and he pulled out the tape of the first session and said that he would claim
that I seduced him so as not to be sent to social services.
“He would continually spank me until
there were days that I could not bear to sit down. He started to find excuses
to punish me during the day as well. He would never call me by my name. He
would only call me slut, whore or bitch. One day he brought home a “friend”. He said that I was to be nice to his
“friend” and left. The friend made me get
undressed. He tied me up, said that I was a bad girl and started beating me
with his belt. When he was finished beating me he fucked me in the ass with a
dildo and made me beg him to fuck my cunt. He too, had a hidden recorder and
the tape of my begging to be fucked in my cunt by his magnificent cock was very
convincing. He locked the dildo in my ass as he viciously fucked my young,
tight pussy.
“As I grew older, my “uncle” (so I was told to call him) brought
friends over on a regular basis. I had to come home right after school because
I never knew when my “uncle” might need me, whether for ordinary
household tasks like cleaning or cooking, or to satisfy his cock, or the cocks
of any of his friends.
“There were certain days of the year
that were always hell. On Thanksgiving, Christmas and the Fourth of July I
would be blindfolded and locked on a horse, with my three openings available to
any of his “friends” who walked through the door. Super Bowl Sundays were particularly gory, as
there was a lot of drinking and a lot of betting and the losers would take
their frustrations out on my body, which would be left in agony. They whipped
my ass and cunt and pinched and pulled my tits. They used me as an ash tray,
grinding out their cigarettes all over my body. The used me throughout the day,
two or three at a time.
Then I got lucky. I was still in High
School and someone decided to give a special class in how a girl could protect
herself from a mugger. They taught us a few Karate blows that, if done
properly, would knock a mugger unconscious. I practiced hard because I knew
that I would only have one chance. My “uncle”got careless while fucking me and I
was able to give him a knee in the balls as hard as I could. He bent over, not
even worried, because he knew he would punish me like never before. Meanwhile I took advantage of his pain by
knocking him unconscious with one of the karate chops that I had learnt in
school. I quickly ran to the closet
where we had PVC wrapping tape, the kind of tape used to tape cartons. I quickly strapped his wrists behind his back
and his ankles together. He was beginning to stir so I hit him again and
continued to wrap the tape. I knew my life depended on it. I wrapped the tape
several times around his mouth so he could not talk or scream for help. I bent
his elbows behind his back and wrapped the tape around his body so that his
wrists were locked between his shoulder blades. Finally, I wrapped tape from
above his knees down to just above his ankle so that he could walk only in the
most tiny, mincing steps. He was in my power. I would have my revenge.
“I found the dildo that he used to rape
me. I rubbed it with Ben Gay and hot sauce, then shoved it as hard as I could
into his ass. He was starting to stir, and I could see him trying to scream
through the tape. He was in agony. I took some more of the PVC tape and I
attached a strip to his waist, over his cock and balls and over his ass. He
could not expel the dildo from his ass, nor could he get an erection, as the
tape was too tight to allow it.
“The great thing about PVC tape as a
restraint is that it hurts like hell when it is removed. The tape would have to
be removed for “uncle” to piss or shit and he would beg me
for the privilege of having it removed. But that would come later. Right now I
was just enjoying watching him helpless, unable even to scream. I took out a
dog collar, fastened it around his neck, and pulled him, still wrapped in PVC
tape down to the Basement. He bounced painfully on the stairs as we descended.
He was mine. I would tame him and train him to be my slave.
The first thing I would have to do was
weaken him. I would only give him one meal per day, but since he would have no
way of telling time, I would tell him that he was being fed on a regular basis.
I left him on the floor with instructions to remain still. I went upstairs to
eat dinner and then I bathed and enjoyed a good nights sleep. In the morning, I
brought dinner to my slave and saw that he was not still, but had made his way
around the room, searching for a way to free himself and escape. Of course,
there was no such way, but the slave had to be punished for disobeying my
orders. I used his own belt to whip his ass.
I then told him that I would remove the tape from over his mouth so that
he could eat dinner, before I put him to bed for the night. He was to remain
quiet and not scream. I waited until he nodded to show that he understood,
before I ripped the tape from his mouth. He held back his screams but could not
control his groans of pain.
“I had a plate of meat and vegetables
that I cut up for my slave and I placed it on the floor, where he could, by
lying face down on the concrete floor manage to eat. I had a bowl of water put
next to his main dish. I did not want my slave to die of thirst. I was
threatening to put the tape back on, when he called my name.
I kicked him in the ribs, as hard as I
could. “You
will never use my name again. You will call me MISTRESS, and you will use a
prefix, such as Beautiful MISTRESS, or Kind MISTRESS, or Merciful MISTRESS. Use
your imagination. Use different prefixes and try to amuse me. Now, what do you
want, slave?”
I think that it was only then that he
understood what deep trouble he was in. He saw the hatred in my eyes and saw
that he was in for a long ordeal. He really did not know what to say or what to
do. To show him that he must adjust to his new status, I once again made to
retape his mouth.
“Please, Merciful MISTRESS, may your
slave beg a favor?”
At my contemptuous nod he went on, “I have to go to the bathroom.” I started to whip him as hard as I
could. “Slaves
don’t
use the word “I”. Slaves say “this lowly slave humbly begs
permission”.
Second, slaves don’t
have to go to the bathroom. They humbly request permission to piss or shit. Now
try again.
“Merciful MISTRESS, this lowly slave
humbly begs permission to piss.”
I ripped off the PVC loin cloth, which painfully removed a large clump of hair
from his groin. I then took an empty milk bottle and held his cock at the edge
of the milk bottle when I ordered him to piss. “Don’t you dare get an erection while I am
helping you piss,” I commanded him in my harshest tones. When
his cock began to grow slightly in my hand, I took my other hand and started
slapping his balls as hard as I could. “Slaves are not entitled to an erection
unless they are specifically ordered. Erections without orders will be punished
severely.”
By this time the Ben Gay and hot sauce
on the dildo in his ass would be losing effect, and I did not want him using
that to keep track of time, so I was “kind” enough to allow him to “shit out” the dildo. I prepared him to sleep by
retaping his cock and balls and laying him on a thin mattress and covering him
with a blanket. As I went off to school, my slave went to sleep, thinking it
was the night time.
“When I got home from school, I started
to search the house from top to bottom. Eventually I found the financial
records. The house belonged to my mother and was now mine. I would get a lawyer
to look after the details. My father had left a life insurance policy for me
and over the years the balance had grown to a tidy sum. I would not have to
worry about money. I would be able to enjoy playing with my slave.”
Master Dave had listened to Mistress
White’s
tale with great interest and attention. He felt sure that he was the first male
to hear this story and he was flattered. But he was also worried.
“Your “uncle” was a real asshole and I am glad you
were able to turn the tables on him. One day I’d love to hear the rest of the story.
But you must understand something. Our slave girls leave here so well trained
that they want to be slaves, they cannot imagine being anything else. Some of
our slaves become trophy wives or secretaries. If they had any desire for
freedom they could easily bring down the whole organization. They would rather
be slaves than free, which is why our slaves are so valuable. You are going to
be training male slaves for the pleasure of daughters of members. If any slave
has any desire for freedom, his owner might be in grave physical danger. The
only successful training is to end up with a slave whose purpose in life is to
be the best slave possible. It is bad enough if a slave dares to come without
his Mistress’
permission. That in itself can lead to tremendous complications. But if a slave
should ever get the idea that it has any other purpose in life except in being
a slave, if he should ever want something else for himself besides slavery, we
have not done our jobs and we may be in deep trouble. For that reason we have
to make sure that we give the slaves love as we get deeper and deeper into
their training. This love need not, in fact must not, bring the slave any
physical rewards. But the slave must feel his slavery is appreciated as a gift,
a tribute that he pays to his Mistress. It is only by giving the slave the gift
of our love that we can get from him the gift of his ultimate loyalty.
“As we conclude Zero’s training you will see what I mean
and we will discuss how to bring this technique to use on your men slaves. We
must make the slaves view their Mistress’ as if they were their own babies. The
slave must be ready to die rather than see their Mistress hurt in any way.
Merely disappointing a Mistress should be enough to cause the slave traumatic
distress. That is the goal of your training. We cannot have our slaves waiting
for an opportunity to get free. They must have no other desire except to be the
best possible slave and fulfill all the desires of their Mistress. This is not
an easy job, but that is why we recruited you and are paying you so well. If it
was easy, anyone could do it.”
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