BDSM Library - 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"

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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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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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The rich, scarlet wine flows sinuously through the clear tube, winding its way downward like a crimson serpent intent on its prey. Quickly honing in on its helpless target, it strikes, coursing directly into hole's tight anus unobstructed, guided by the inserted tube's unswerving path. The cunning fluid seeps slowly, obdurately into her bowels, filling her up.

"Mmmhhh...", hole moans suddenly, reacting to the slightly chilled fluid creeping its way into her.

Inspiration for the enema came to Me yesterday from a few of hole's private diary entries. It seems that between the ages of 19 and 20 my little debutante dated 'Jack', an interesting fellow whom she planned to marry. The relationship was not meant to be, however, and 'Jack' became abusive toward the end.

It seems that he made a valiant effort in the last few days to convince hole that anal sex would be a mutually satisfying collaboration. hole wanted none of it. In her words, "... it's disgusting, and I finally told him never in a million years. I mean, come on, I'm not some street walker looking for a fix."

Later entries reveal two subsequent boyfriends were also flatly denied any sort of anal dalliance. Obviously, hole never planned to engage in "such filthiness".

So, here we are in my recreation chamber, and it's enema time for the prissy beauty queen.

Here's to you, Jack.

The source of the ambrosial fluid is a black, rubber enema bag hanging bloated in the air above her. The optimal height insures that the flow will continue at a steady pace, but not so rapidly as to cause instant cramping. And, the clearness of the tube allows Me to see the fluid's crimson descent into my bound slave's ass.

The liquid concoction is my own special mixture: parts fine merlot, liquid caffeine, powdered, generic Viagra, and simple spring water. My intent is to reduce hole's inhibitions, to pump up her system with the caffeine so she's fully engaged, and finally, to see how true the rumors are regarding the pharmaceutical aphrodisiac's potential on the weaker sex.

I measured the portions carefully, because too much of any one drug, and not enough water, is potentially fatal. And I certainly don't want any harm to befall my slave, unless by design.

That's also why she's currently immobilized, horizontal, and receiving her enema on my expertly crafted bondage bench. She's lying flat on her stomach, arms stretched out together along the top of the bench above her hooded head. The area from her breastbone to her belly button is resting on a thickly padded, but narrow, five-inch wide metal beam, with her plump tits hanging down exposed on either side.

Her young, fresh thighs straddle, like a wanton cowgirl, a larger section of the bench further down, her hip bones resting flush against it. There, however, the padded bench terminates in a cut-out crescent shape, and the last inch of her pubic region hangs in empty space, nothing to block access to her baby-smooth crotch.

Oh yes, I failed to mention I waxed her completely about an hour ago. Still black-hooded and sightless, as she is now, she was led, crawling into my elegant toy room where I had a bubbling pot of wax waiting for her.

I guided my blinded bunny up to sit in my professional-grade gynecological exam chair, complete with stirrups and straps, after fitting her hands into thick, leather suspension cuffs. Once her arms were drawn up and fixed above her head, knees spread wide and restrained, and the rest of her torso strapped down, I applied the hot wax to her armpits, crotch, and legs using long, fibrous, papery strips.

I then took immense delight in removing the swathes of wax, varying my approach with each satisfying extraction. Sometimes I ripped the strips violently away from her skin in a single motion. Other times I slowly, painstakingly peeled them off, and basked in the sun of her heightened vocal distress.

I saved her small patch of pubic hair for last, and scolded her for not maintaining herself better.

"Look at this hairy cunt! I swear, you beast, were you raised in a barn? If I ever see hairs on this pussy again, I'm going to have you remove each one of them with electrified tweezers while I whip you."

The way she bucked as my fingers progressively teased the final strips away, tearing out the dark, curly pubic hairs, I thought she would dislocate an arm.

It was an extra chore afterwards to remove the excess bits of wax with a special lotion, but the finished result was well worth the effort. Shiny, smooth, bare skin lovingly greeted my fingertips as I ran them lightly over my slave-doll's legs and pussy lips.

Touching hole intimately for the very first time left Me invigorated and rock-hard. "This is it," I thought to myself. "So much detailed planning and patience, and finally, a small taste of my prize."

While one hand continued to nimbly roam hole's denuded body, I reached into the open flap of my lounge pants and drew out my throbbing member, trying to relieve some of the building pressure. A glistening drop of pre-cum had boiled its way up to the surface of my cockhead, and it lingered there in quivering anticipation of events to come.

Before discarding my original plans, however, and violating her right there on the spot, I released hole's chair bindings, and escorted her along to the next device, where she lies now. Laid out like a delicious buffet on my unshakable bench, and still receiving her specially tailored enema.

Holding her firmly in place now on top of the sparkling, cherry red, padded vinyl are the same suspension cuffs around her wrists, with new ones encircling her ankles. Both pair are extended to their limits and locked down to thick eyebolts lining the heavy contraption. Her arms and legs are stretched, allowing only tiny movements.

I walk around her form, and lean down, my face inches away from her shrouded head. "Tell Me, hole. What's my slavegirl thinking right now?"

She remains quiet for so long I wonder if she has unexpectedly succumbed to exhaustion. But, finally she says, "this hole is scared, Master. And I... this hole... misses her family."

Such a cute, feminine, vulnerable voice. And, I adore the way my trussed pet looks, still blinded by her locked, leather hood, and straddling my horse-like contraption. Her full tits hang down invitingly, begging for my urgent attention.

"Well, I want you to keep being a good girl for Me. I would hate for anything dreadful to happen to those dear family members you miss so much." I allow the clear threat to linger ominously, providing no further details as I proceed with my merry tasks.

I wrap a wide leather panel securely over the small of her back to hold her midsection motionlessly down to the puffed vinyl. The cured strap buckles tightly to the underside of the bench's frame, inaccessible to her.

Suddenly, as I finish buckling the metal clasp, hole begins to react, no longer lying there calmly quiescent. She mewls pitifully, and her limbs start to tug repeatedly at her bonds.

The enema is having an effect on her at last. It's much too early for the drugs to be absorbed by her intestines, but the sizable amount of liquid already occupying her colon seems to be a deliciously escalating affliction.

"How does it feel, hole?" I ask, curious and grinning.

"it hurts, nnghhh... what are you doing, Master?" Her plaintive tone makes it clear she wants whatever it is to cease immediately.

She definitely wasn't thrilled earlier either, at the enema nozzle's insertion up her socially forbidden rectum. But, I was able to calm her down enough to gently ease its lubricated end into her reluctant asshole. All my bound angel needed was a few reassuring words from her Master to relax those nerve-sensitive muscles.

But, now she has to go and speak out of turn.

"Quiet, cunt! I know you're bordering on the level of retard, but you do not ask questions without permission. Now, what hurts?"

hole draws a breath through closed teeth, her blinded head turned toward Me. "My stomach, and down there... I need... this hole needs to use the bathroom, Master... uhwnngg."

"Oohhh you almost got it, hole, but you said one of the forbidden words. It's 'this hole's stomach', not 'my stomach'. Tsk, tsk. What am I going to do with you? Since my instructions are not being processed by that flawed, tiny brain, I'm going to have to resort to other measures to help you be a good girl."

Her lips compress anxiously, but she remains silent, probably worried she'll make things worse by responding.

As she squirms, I step away to grab a thin, rattan cane with a carved, porcelain handle from the wall. Not bothering with a practice swing, I return and stand away from her at the proper distance, lining up the cane with its clear, exposed target.

Without warning, and with potent force, I arc the cane sideways through the air. It lands with a powerful crack across her lifted asscheeks, causing her to shriek terrifically in pain. Her cheeks clench together tightly, and she jerks her pelvis down. She frantically humps the bench between her legs, clearly trying to escape the brutal, stinging device.

As I watch, wide-eyed, enjoying her painful writhing, a new thought arises. Not only will the drugged enema keep flowing into my little toy's ass until the bag is empty, but she will suffer every time her crammed abdomen pushes down against the bench. So, she can either try to stay still while she is being caned, or she will intensify her own intestinal agony.

The warm realization spurs Me on to deliver four more rapid-fire strokes to her taut, resilient asscheeks. I aim directly at the original target, at the same reddening stripe of skin, scoring a precise hit every time.

The ability to do this is a testament to my stalwart bench. If not so rigidly bound to its contoured dimensions, hole's ass would be jumping around like crazy, and it would be exceedingly difficult to keep hitting the same sweet spot over and over.

hole wails like a banshee as I cane her, fighting to catch her breath between piercing squeals. She squirms violently, like a four-legged insect pinned to a dissection board. I willingly play the part of the mad scientist, probing her with my specialized instrument to elicit interesting, novel reactions.

I decide the rest of my subject's perfectly formed ass needs some attention too, so I spread five more strokes liberally around. I savor the tight rippling of her ass muscles as the dense wood crashes down again and again. Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

Listening to hole scream, I happily remember that her songs of torture will be readily available for my future listening pleasure, thanks to the room's advanced recording gear. Every piece of furniture in this chamber has a microphone attached, so no precious utterance will be missed. In addition, I have the cameras, adjustable and wall-mounted, all currently trained on this single enthralling location.

"Only five more to go, hole. Are you starting to see that you're not a person anymore? That you're an object? That you're going to spend the rest of your limited life as a possession, controlled by Me or whoever you're sold to? And, if you don't grow a brain soon, you'll find yourself longing for the patient tolerance I'm showing you right now."

Whack!

More screaming, but between sobs she says, "Yes, Master, please don't. Please just let me go, I won't tell anyone about you... I will..."

Whack!

"Quiet, hole! 'I' this... 'I' that... Obviously, I have a lot of work ahead of Me. And, you must really love your cage, because that's exactly where you're going back to once I'm done with you, cunt. Apparently, you need some more 'alone time' to consider a slave's proper vocabulary."

Whack!

"Aahhhnggh," she roars vociferously, followed by shuddering inhalations of breath. "Master, please... don't put this hole back in there... let this hole have sex with you... this hole will do anything you want... please just let m... this hole go..."

Whack!

I wait for another scream to dissipate, and then go on. "hole, you have absolutely nothing I want. You're not even trained to please an Owner yet. And, it might be different if you were the least bit attractive, but we've already discussed that. There is nothing to be done about your plain, farmgirl's face. Although... you will start your exercise regime soon, and maybe your body won't look so horribly dumpy after a few months of hard work."

Privately, I adore her physical attributes, already sublime the way they are. Her flawless skin is only now marked by my desecration with the cane.

"Master, this,"...

Whack!!!!! I saved the best for last. A beautiful, glorious scream peals from her throat.

Wanting to leave her with a tangible reminder to dwell on for the next few days, I reared back on the final swing and landed a vicious blow to her right cheek. The profound bruise that will surely blossom there on her fair skin will be satisfying to behold.

Ever the consummate gentleman, I patiently wait for her to gather herself, and to complete her last thought she began. But, she seems more interested in repetitive wailing at the moment.

I reach out with my free hand to feel the results of my cane-manship. Her angrily striped skin is hot to the touch, and she jumps with a cry as I begin to softly caress the raised weals on her stricken backside.

"There, there... it's ok, my pet. That's right, it's all over now. Yes. You have so much potential to be a good girl. All you have to do is listen to Master and obey." My voice drips with slippery condescension as I glide my hand lightly over her seething skin.

"Yes, Master... please stop hurting this hole... this hole will listen." A loud, tearful sniff comes from within her hood, followed by more dejected crying.

"I know you will, and your Master will be here to help you with every step. But, you're going to have to prove your value to Me. You seem rather slow and dimwitted, hole, and you obviously don't catch on to concepts very quickly. Combine that with your decidedly unappealing looks, and I should really sell you now for whatever paltry sum I'm able to collect."

With the caning now finished, her fidgeting grows more and more pronounced, even under my gentle petting.

Ah yes, the enema...

Tenacious in discharging its duty, the fluid continues its liquid trajectory unerringly into my slave. I squeeze the hanging bag and see that there is about a fifth of the contents left.

As the minutes pass, I listen to her struggle.

"Nnggnngghh... mmmhh... awwnnngg," she wordlessly, tensely complains. I think her bowels must be a terrible distraction to her if she has already stopped blubbering in response to my canework. Not that she has stopped crying by a long shot, but it's clear by her actions that the enema now has her absolute focus.

Realizing I have a bit more time before it drains completely into my bound girltoy, I leisurely stroll to the wall and replace the cane on its designated hook.

Just adjacent to my hanging array of percussive devices is a heavy, oak chest of drawers, richly stained with carved handles. Pulling out the second drawer, I select a medium-sized, rubber buttplug from the assortment of anal toys there, and return to my ongoing experiment.

I take a seat on the edge of my rich, leather, executive office chair right next to the bondage bench.

"So, hole... earlier you offered to fuck Me... you know, that's really a riot. Of all the beautiful, trained slaves I could have, why would I possibly want to fuck a cow like you? I mean, even if I turned out the lights so I wouldn't have to look at you, would you even know what to do with a cock?" I chuckle derisively at the thought.

"nnddaaah... please, this hole will do anything you want, Master... mmgghh.... please make it stop, it hurts." Her bare feet flutter maniacally to the beat of her suffering.

"Ok, let Me try again. It's a simple question, so see if you can follow this time. Do you have any idea what to do with a real man's dick?" I lazily tap my fingers on the enema tube, enjoying the dialogue.

"Yes, Master, this hole... aaahhnggmmh... this hole can make you feel good, Master. Please, let this hole try to please you."

"Ohhhhh, I see. I had no idea I had such a filthy slut on my hands. So, my little hole is a cock expert, huh? Good, if things don't work out here, you can put those skills to use down in Chihuatal. The brothel there in Mexico is one I sometimes do business with, and they're always looking for fresh meat. Who knows, if you're talented enough at servicing their abundant clientele, you might be able to avoid starring in their hourly dog and pony shows. Although, they are quite popular, especially when the actress is an American girl like yourself."

As I verbally jab at her, I see the top of the enema tube turn clear once again. The once-swollen bag hangs limply in the air as the remainder of my scarlet mixture finally finds its dark, new home.

"I'm thinking five more days in your cage should be sufficient time to think, hole," I tell her. "But, how about this? I'm about to remove the nozzle from your ass, and if you clamp down and hold everything in like a really good girl, without spilling a single drop, I might be lenient and let you out a little early. Do you think a dullard like you can handle that?"

Her hands are squeezed into tight fists, and her lips are in constant, agitated motion. "yes, Master," she strains.

I step up, and holding the rounded tip of the buttplug ready at the edge of her sphincter, I ease the plastic enema nodule slowly out of her. I notice she's unusually quiet for the moment, but I silently praise her for concentrating on my instructions.

She does exceptionally well, because no hint of fluid escapes before I am able to insert the end of the plug into her puckered orifice.

"Aaaiiiee! Master, please stop... please, no!"

"Try to relax, cunt. This plug is going in one way or another, so stop fighting it." I push gradually inward, allowing it to slide back out a tiny bit before shoving it in even further. The widest section elicits the strongest complaints, but the rubber bulge finally pops all the way in. She releases a pent-up whoosh of air along with a sickly groan.

"See you soon, slut," I announce. "And if the plug comes out of that ass before I return, there will be hell to pay." I slap a rosy asscheek with my open palm before departing. It's time to let the drugs work their magic, so I leave her alone for a planned twenty minutes, setting my watch's alarm on the way out.

Soon, my hungry, neglected cock will be balls-deep inside my captive fucktoy, and I have a few more preparations to make. This will be the first of countless fuck-sessions with my little bitch, and I want the experience to be legendary.

End of part 3

******************************************************************************

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
******************************************************************************

*************************

hole is a shuddering, drugged-up mess. Still leather-hooded and now indomitably attached to the 2-foot thick stone wall of my recreation chamber, her slight body lies on the ground quivering, inadvertently suffusing my nerves with invigorating, predatory fire.

The alcohol-viagra-caffeine solution previously brewing in her bowels was permitted to be expelled from her ass fifteen minutes ago. The relief she exhibited afterward was immediately diminished by her obligatory pronouncement:

"this little piggy is all clean inside for you now, Master..."

Her soprano, unspoiled voice makes it that much more special to my ears.

Speaking of sopranos...

It turns out that my prized angel actually was one in her younger days.. At least until her choir director proved to be a hypocritical deviant of dubious piety. hole recorded her traumatic experiences at the director's hands in one of her many journals, now in my collection.

hole, "Ann" in her former life, was an innocent waif of thirteen years when Regina Hyde, the implicitly trusted Music Director at St. Anthony's invited two of her young, promising protege's to a night out at the opera. La Boheme was playing, so the itinerary was to drive three hours to the big city, have dinner at Cru, see the show, and spend that evening at the downtown Sheraton.

What Ann and her pal, Nina, didn't know (along with their parents and the rest of the church congregation) was that 32 year old Ms. Hyde had already previously served a 5 year sentence in prison for serious indiscretions with a minor.

And, now she had two more female adolescents in her grasp. Ms. Hyde didn't waste her carefully crafted opportunity either according to hole's account, along with a few news articles I was able to locate on the internet.

Once back at the hotel, the trusted guardian slipped strong doses of Rohypnol in two bottles of orange juice, and soon the two trusting adolescents became totally susceptible to (and unlikely to recall) Ms. Hyde's dark plans for the night.

Amazingly, hole documented many of the graphic details in her diary, because her psychologist back then helped her "recover" the memories. hole writes, "the doctor said putting these feelings on paper will help me deal with what that freak did to me and Nina."

I will admit that, apart from her depraved interest in minors, Regina Hyde was a woman after my own heart, a predatory voyeur adoring of the female form, and of course lacking certain customary morals.

Still dressed in their satin gowns and stockings, the two young, semi-conscious charges were explicitly posed in all manner of positions in the hotel room while Regina Hyde captured every view, every deplorable transgression on film. Obviously not a proponent of the "look but don't touch rule," Ms. Hyde technically robbed "Ann" and Nina of their cherished virginities, too.

I'll stop there, because reprehensible though I may be, harming children is where I draw the line. I only provide the history to show that I wasn't the first miscreant to drug my darling pet for sinister purpose.

But, back to the present... and to the full-grown fucktoy I now call hole...

I know the calming effects of the alcohol have transported her to a much happier place, but it would be hard to guess from the constant agitation of her slim frame as she lies there on a crimson sheet of silk waiting for the unknown. The over-stimulation of the caffeine is causing her breathing to be accelerated and erratic. I see her chest rise and fall too quickly, but I visually devour her exposed, countable ribs in possessive appreciation.

Happily, the steel cuffs around her hands and feet will make sure my hooded pet stays put, regardless of her increased energy levels.

She's on her back with her spirited legs spread wide open. I was actually surprised to see how flexible my playtoy is when raising her cuffed ankles to the wall and shackling them directly against it a few inches higher than her head on either side, provoking negligible signs of discomfort on her part.

This position forces her hips to rise slightly off the ground, and her namesake holes to lift upward beautifully. Almost like two precious flowers smiling up at the sun and waiting to be pollinated. However, unlike the worker bee, I intend to use my 8-inch 'stinger' to plumb the velvet depths of her delicate pistils with lecherous abandon.

hole's face turns red momentarily, and I realize my inebriated cunt is testing the parameters of her hanging, counterbalanced arms. The limbs are tautly extended above her head by iron manacles holding them together. Mercifully, the steel around her wrists has rolled-smooth edges that prevent cutting into her soft skin, and there is adequate give to permit circulation.

But, that's not the best part. Attached to the manacles is a length of hanging braided steel that runs up, and then down, through the vertical row of eyebolts anchored into the wall above and behind her head, and terminates in an uncompromising loop cinched around her neck. Now, unless she expends just a small amount of her anxious energy keeping her arms locked out and straight up into the air, with shoulders lifted slightly, the weight of her own torso will cut off her air supply.

Completely her choice, of course.

She's also having difficulty keeping her legs still, and every time she tries to straighten or flex them, her shaved pussy rises up to kiss the air, putting on a show for Me. I wonder if any part of her stirring is sexual frustration due to the viagra, but I will learn how responsive my unseasoned slut is soon enough.

I just need two more items before I begin the next act. Striding over to the table nearby, I retrieve a sturdy, metallic ruler and a high-powered clitoral stimulator. Pleasure and pain are two of the basic absolutes through which we all experience life, and the two objects I now hold in my hands will be the diametrical, representative tools I use in this particular session to wring the ecstasy and agony out of my slave-doll.

Eventually, and with repetition over time, hole's nervous system will involuntarily sexualize the pain I inflict, and draw her closer to being the altered sexual creature I intend.

Looking forward to breaking in my captured slut for an eternity now, I'm already naked, and my excited, rigid cock will tolerate no further forbearance. I named my cunt 'hole' for a reason, and my eager manhood doesn't care which of the three virtuous receptacles it will violate first.

Kneeling in front of her restless crotch, I cause her to flinch by sliding my aching pole along the cleft of her pussy, gently spreading her soft lips apart. My cock comes away wet with her juices already, and I realize either my drug mixture is a success, or I have a seriously randy bitch on my hands.

Either way works for Me.

With the ruler and vibrator ready on the ground next to Me, I grab hole's thighs and line up with my beckoning target. Inserting slowly at first just the helmet of my throbbing member into her pretty orifice, I pause to thrill at the incredible heat she's producing.

Then, as if sealing a formal pact between us, and to remind her that she will forever be owned as a malleable object for another's exploitative pleasure, I lean closer and growl into her ear, "you're mine, hole."

And, with abrupt ferocity, I thrust my hips all the way forward, ramming my implacable cock home. I mash my pubic bone hard against her, grinding into her clit. A surge of bliss rushes from my ensconced manhood upwards to my brain.

hole emits an alarmed, animal, high-pitched moan, her mouth gaping in shock. She remembers only belatedly to keep her arms up to get a clear stream of air. Tiny, strangled whimpers escape as she fights to adjust to the racking invasion.

I withdraw slowly after a few seconds, savoring the way her tight flesh canal grips my shaft like a glove, and then lunge forward again. The force of our collision makes hole's lungs expel mid-breath. She feels so good to be inside that I don't even try to guess whether the stunned set of her mouth indicates fulfillment or revulsion. I just close my eyes, rear back, and plunge in again.

Since my cock has a healthy upward curve when fully engorged, I can feel the top surface of the head tingle as it forcefully skims the silky flesh of her tunnel until bottoming out all the way inside.

Giving up any thoughts of calm civility, I begin the most pleasurable theretofore fucking of my life. As hole's mouth transforms into odd, protesting shapes, I transform into a mindless jackrabbit. I rest my hands on the ground on either side of her, between her waist and bent-back legs, and piledrive that prime, perfect pussy.

I lift my left hand to her open mouth, insert my thumb inside, and grip her chin below using my fingers. Then, holding on (just in case she works up the foolish courage to try to bite), I lower my head to sweetly kiss the soft pinkness of her upper lip. I dart my tongue inside to lap at the roof of her mouth, and then extend it to the back of her throat. Unfortunately for her, this causes her to gag as my tongue has quite a reach. Once my tonsil torment of her has been satisfied however, I pull out, release her jaw, and continue demonstrating to hole what she is good for.

I'd like to boast and say that I was able to hold out like a champion and delay my first orgasm with hole, but I must confess that her young tightness quickly drives Me over the edge.

Feeling the inevitable climax upon Me, I withdraw, and aim my wet, angry cockhead directly towards her hooded, sightless face. Waves of intense pleasure flow through my core as ropey streams of cum erupt from my tool and splatter first on the leather covering my slavegirl's eyes, with more hot squirts landing on her uncovered, supple lips.

Even without sight, my unwilling whore obviously understands the mechanics of male sexuality as evidenced by her lips suddenly scrunching into a distressed pucker of revulsion as my slimy, pearly cum slides across her mouth, and a few dollops ooze from her chin to pool on her heaving chest.

Her jaw unmoving with still-compressed lips, hole remembers to keep her arms straight, and she flexes her fingers in discomfort as her only passage for air is now, by choice, her nose.

I hate to waste an opportunity, so in my state of contented bliss, I walk to the control room to retrieve one of my high-end digital cameras. Returning, I quickly stand in front of her to take perfect close-ups of my fucktoy's first, wonderful facial defilement.

I think Ms. Hyde herself would approve of my techniques.

"Open your mouth, cunt," lowering the camera, I break the silence. "I've given you a delectable treat, and you will enjoy every last drop."

hole maintains her stalwart mouth-defense, however, and shakes her head in firm, disgusted denial. I'm amused seeing the white blobs of cum quake and jiggle as she protests.

I was planning to use the ruler on her anyway, but now I have a justifiable reason. Lifting it silently from its spot on the ground, I let it hover directly over her partially spread, despoiled pussylips before...

Whack!

Flat, cold metal meets tender clit, and my little hole's mouth pops right open into a brutalized scream. Unable to move her legs with her ankles locked to the wall, she twists and turns her thighs in an effort to escape. Her hips buck into the air violently as she wails her torment.

"Go ahead. Taste your Master's load, my little cum-dumpster, and tell Me how much you like that sticky sperm-juice. Maybe you need more reminders about the consequences of disobeying?"

"Nnnhh.." sniff, sniff, "no, Master..." she sobs as she attempts in vain to bring her knees together.

Lucky for her, her tongue quickly emerges, and she tentatively samples the goo coating her lips and swallows convulsively. Her stomach takes a nauseous dip.

"Th... thank you, Master, for letting this hole taste your cum. It's so g... good, Master." Due to the caffeine, her words are still too rapid, too frantic.

"Every bit of it, hole. Surely you don't want to waste your Master's gift." I bring the cold steel of the ruler again into contact with her clit, and hold it there menacingly.

"No, Master," she hastily jams the words together.

As her tongue laps up my cooling ejaculate and draws it into her mouth, I explain the cum rule:

"That's my good girl. Whenever a Master or Mistress cums in your presence, you WILL go out of your way to seek out every last trace and slurp it up like a proper slave. If you fail to treat an Owner's precious cum like a lost wanderer reveres water in the desert, you will wish you were that poor soul. Slaves should be attracted to cum like moths are drawn to a flame. Do you understand, cunt?"

hole finishes tongue-dragging another glob of slime into her mouth to respond, "yes, Master," and then swallows again with a tense grimace.

As she obeys, I pull the ruler away from her slit, and put it down again, directing her, "Ok, finish your treat, hole."

I'm sure she can hear the electronic whir of the shutter as I immortalize these vivid scenes of her humiliation. Showing my slave the high resolution close-ups of her forcing down her only meal for the day will surely serve as gratifying entertainment later.

Flipping through the camera's playback screen, I sinisterly wonder how much Ms. Hyde would be willing to pay to see these pictures of her former student. Perhaps she's even available for a social visit, I muse.

"Now, open that mouth, and stick out your tongue," I command.

She's done as much as she can unaided, so I use my index finger to slide the remaining goop from her hood and chest into her obediently waiting mouth, and have her suck my finger clean.

"My, my, such a good girl. Maybe Master can give you a reward for obeying now. Would my hole like that?"

She hesitates before answering, probably questioning whether our definitions of "reward" are the same. I can't say I blame her, but genuine rewards are part of the training process, and I'm pleased when she momentarily responds with a reticent, "yes, Master."

"That's my good girl." I gently place my open palm against her pubic mound and lightly caress her newly depilated skin. Gliding gradually to her inner thighs, I trace slow, tender lines up and down her legs. I continue to rub and pamper her, giving her the warm attention she's gone without for days, at least since she joined Me.

A few minutes go by, and she eventually begins taking noticeably deeper breaths. Relaxed but stuttered purrs follow, and her pelvis rises slowly, barely at first, but then almost begging for more intimate attention as my calm stroking continues. I am in no hurry, though, and take my time working her up.

After this, she will remember that there is also pleasure to be had at my hands. And unquestioning obedience will be the key to unlocking that door.

Her kitten purrs slowly become sensual, womanly moans, and I reach down to grab the Pocket Rocket with the fresh batteries inside. Turning it to the lowest possible setting first, I touch its tip lightly to hole's taut stomach. Keeping the same delicate contact, I let it meander down to her beautiful crotch, and tease her outer lips with the low vibrations.

hole responds by slowly turning her hooded head from side to side and undulating her hips shamelessly.

Again, I am unsure how my little cockwhore would be responding right now without the effects of the drug-wine enema upon her, but I wanted her to enjoy this part of my plans without the undue stress of her recent traumatic enslavement distracting her. It seems to be working.

Finally, I settle the low-buzzing device directly on her clit, and I get the reaction I've been patient for. hole moans out her mounting lust and arches up further to meet the pleasure toy. I continue to tease her flesh button with the vibrator while my other hand roams over her body. Testing her readiness, I edge the power setting upward slowly, and she responds with an intensity to match.

Being no stranger myself to amorous dalliances with the fairer sex, I can tell that my wanton bitch is moments away from a powerful explosion. So, I cruelly pull the vibrator away, but continue to rub her toned legs with my warm, open palm.

"uhhnnngg," she cries out in frustration. "Please..." she begs while continuing to wriggle her hips like a siren intent on seduction. Watching her helpless and now yearning to temporarily play along with my twisted game, I feel my cock surge, already a pipe of steel again.

"Please?" I say, all innocence. "Please what?"

Another whimper of frustration emanates from her bound throat. It's obvious my chaste belle is reluctant to voice her vulgar, impure desires to her captor. "Please, Master...."

The slow gentleness of my roaming hand harmonizes with the soft tone of my words. "Does my good girl want Me to make her cum, hmm, is that it?"

Her delay tells Me she hates to answer... "Yes please, Master."

I bring the buzzing toy closer again, and make sweeping circles around her sensitive nub, eventually zeroing in on the target. Her moaning is delicious music with a raw undercurrent of animal lust. I adjust the speed again, bringing it up to half-strength as I simultaneously lean forward to brush her nipples with the back of my hand.

"Mmmhhh, yes, please don't stop, Mas...

uuhhh!!!" she exclaims in anguish as I pull away and deny her orgasm just on the brink yet again. A sheen of sweat coats her blushing skin now and she's panting like a crazed nympho.

Time to give my worked up bitch sensations of a different sort.

Pocket Rocket switched off, punishment ruler in hand, I raise the flat steel high into the air and bring it crashing down with devastating force onto the unprotected flesh of her right inner thigh. I flick my wrist at the bottom of the stroke to insure a brutal sting, and watch as she nearly strangles herself flopping around in terror.

"Aaaiiieeeeeee!!!"

Her shrill screaming is cut short as she reflexively jerks her hands downward, and the wire garrote chokes off her air supply. A series of coughs and retches quickly follow, and her drugged state seems to slow her identification of her own arms as the culprit of her asphyxia.

After a few smoother gulps of air, she keens pathetically, "why, Master?" and trails off into sobs.

"For starters, cunt, I will not have a filthy slut slave orgasming without permission like you were just about to do. Furthermore, what have you done since becoming my property to make your Owner happy? You have had several days to consider this, and you have only been thinking of yourself. Your Master demands utter love and adoration, but you've been a self-centered whore all your life, and apparently nothing has changed."

I punctuate my diatribe with an equally ferocious ruler strike to her other thigh. And, just because I can, I deliver ten more vicious whacks to her inner legs as she bellows maniacally.

A quiet laugh escapes from Me as I imagine hole's legs attempting to pedal an imaginary bicycle in this position, but unable to do so because her ankles are solidly fixed to the wall. Instead, the titillating result is her comical pussy dance as she tries to escape and not choke at the same time.

I allow her to calm down again before resuming the lesson. "So, hole, what should you never, ever do without permission?"

With tears streaming down from under her hood, she mutters, "I won't..."

Whack!!!

Another swift strike, but this time again right to her clit, causes a new round of wailing and frenzied activity.

"What a stupid cunt you are. Certain pain can be avoided by following your Master's orders, but still you have the audacity to say 'I'... hole is an object, a bitch for my amusement. Want to try again, whore?"

"Aannngggg," she despairs with her head turned to the side. "this hole won't have an orgasm without permission, Master."

"Thaaaaaat's right. And, especially since I've already decided to have you spend a few more days alone in your cage to think, what are you going to be thinking about, hole?"

"This, this hole will think about how to make you happy, Master, and... and how much this hole loves you, Master."

"Absolutely! Now my good girl is on the right track," I beam like a proud father.

I pick up the vibrator and start slowly again, proceeding to tease her until she's eventually at the same level of readiness I brought her to before. Her mind and nerves are so confused by now that she's like putty in my corrupting hands.

"Please, Master, can this hole orgasm?" she can't help but beg after several minutes.

Her pussy is so juiced up and inflamed with unslaked craving that she tries to force more friction between her love button and the device, uncaring that the braided metal around her neck is thus pulling tighter and tighter.

"Please!" nearly breathless this time.

"Please, Master!"

I pull my hand away and switch off the vibrator with finality.

"Hahahaha, no, I don't think so, cunt. You stay here and think about the lessons you've learned, and I'll be back... at some point."

Without another word, I grab camera, ruler, and vibrator, and leave her unsatisfied... fucking the empty air with desperate, wet futility.

End of part 4

******************************************************************************

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
******************************************************************************

*************************

Present day:

It's Thursday morning... not that hole is aware of the distinction. No, she just knows this scheduled period of time as Tummy-Training #6, and she has barely reached the middle of the automated 4-hour exercise program. She will finally be allowed to eat at its termination, with her meal's level of sophistication (or repugnance) based on her performance.

This day also marks a special anniversary for our unique relationship. Three years ago to the date, I drove hole, drugged, away from her plain home and carried her limp form down into my sanctum to live the life of a captive slut-slave. Just as she continues to do right now.

At the moment, she is hanging upside down in mid-air by her ankles, latex legs spread wide with the aid of a stainless steel bar between, and her pretty feet are topped with candy-red stripper heels. My kept angel is laboring away to maintain her nice, flat stomach.

To keep a watchful eye on this exercise, I have camera #1 closely focused on the two electrical pads taped to each of her toned buttcheeks. Camera #2 captures her inverted, exerted, and reddened face. And, the third camera is a wider shot from the ceiling looking down, continuously filming hole's ongoing efforts.

Also visible in this shot is a thick, braided rope hanging down in front of my fit bat-whore. This necessary pendulum allows hole to use her unfettered, but opera-gloved hands to pull herself up any time she chooses. Without this ability, she could be in danger of blood eventually pooling in her lungs and brain, a potentially fatal situation.

"Ten, nine, eight..." my recorded voice booms from the peripheral speakers installed in the corners of the room. It has been two minutes since she last climbed up to push the glowing red reset button clamped at the apex of the thick cord. I see hole's eyes groggily open again, and she inhales deeply in resignation before reaching out for the rope, her sculpted legs twisting forlornly above.

Since I only allowed her three hours sleep prior to this exercise, it is rather important that she not pass out from fatigue. So, to protect my fucktoy from inversion-induced damage, and to entertain myself, the shock pads adhered to her ass will inject incredible bolts of energy into her glute muscles if she fails to press the button in at least two-minute intervals.

The instant her hands begin to climb upward, her fresh face reflects the emotional toll this repeated action exacts. Although she has been through the same program multiple times in the past, her stomach muscles are obviously sore and cramping. The little squeaks and grunts she makes while fighting her way to the top are so endearing that I cannot help but smile. I could bounce a quarter off that tight stomach. I have certainly enjoyed slapping my enraged cock against it on more than one occasion.

"Four, three..." and then successful silence once more. My ab-flexing bitch climbs her way tediously back down the rope, brunette hair swaying. She learned long ago to do it that way rather than simply letting go. Anything to take some of the pressure off her spasming sheath of tummy muscles.

As she clenches her teeth and attempts to relax, she places unsteady hands over her flat belly, and soothes her midsection like a wounded dove she's trying to nurse back to health. A single bead of sweat runs quickly down her cheekbone and into her freshly clean hair, the ends of which intimately sweep the smooth cement floor.

I sit up suddenly, fascinated, as camera #1 shows hole's hands uncharacteristically creep into view. Perhaps she is providing her own motivation by caressing the wires and rubber pads stuck to her rear, reminding herself why she keeps toiling away even while exhausted. I have no worries, however, that she might tear away the devices, easy though it would be. My cunt-slave learned that particular lesson the hard way the very first time I strung her up for Tummy-Training #6.

She was still green back then. Thinking she still had some residual power to avoid the hardships I impose. Once she began to tire from lifting herself up to push the vexing button, she finally failed to beat the timer, and a torrent of electricity rushed into her backside. Immediately arching her spine and screaming stridently in misery, she maniacally clawed at the source of her posterior torment until the wires broke free.

While she covered her face and sobbed afterward, surely knowing this was a forbidden act, I walked calmly towards her in my dark, disguising robe and face mask. "You've been a bad girl, hole," I chastised. I ran my surgical-gloved hands over her sore stomach, feeling the tiny tremors within, but she was smart enough not to resist my touch. "Since you violated the rules of the exercise, we will simply work out that fat gut of yours by playing 'Retch' instead."

I could tell she was disconcerted by the unfamiliar term as she peaked between her fingers, but she dutifully answered, "yes, Master," in tearful acquiescence.

"I have a feeling you would have preferred to finish 'TT-6' little pet, but you will eventually learn that things can always be made worse. Now, open that mouth, slave. Wider!"

As soon as she complied, I bent to one knee to fit a 1 1/2 inch ring gag into her open mouth and buckled it tightly at the back of her neck. Then, behind her, I placed strict leather cuffs around her hands and upper arms. Both sets I then clipped to each other, insuring her arms would stay put and out of my way.

'Retch' is one of my favorite activities to engage in with hole, especially in the months before she learned better control over her natural reflexes. Using a long, very thin, muted-green dildo, I perform Retch by inserting the ribbed length of rubber repeatedly into the recesses of my slut's throat. Devilishly wriggling it against her tonsils like a snake's tongue while gripping a mane-full of her soft hair is a pure delight. And, three distinct purposes are served by her desperate struggles to expel the foreign probe:

1) Her diaphragm spasming again and again while her body tries to vomit ends up delivering the strenuous workout I desire anyway to her abdominal muscles

2) She learns a much better command of her gag reflex in order to better service the erect male phallus

3) Finally, when she decides to fuck with her Master's games in the future, she will remember that there are plenty of nasty alternatives to following his ever so reasonable requirements

As the first round of Retch commenced, my untamed slave's throat bulged as her esophagus began the rapid process of reverse peristalsis. Lacking anything of substance, however, since she hadn't eaten or drank for several hours beforehand, all this produced was empty dry heaving. She did end up creating several glistening puddles of slimy spit on my concrete floor, but she was decent enough to lick and slurp them all up afterwards.

Ah, such fond memories. Aided, of course, by my digital library fully catalogued by date. Sometimes while she's sleeping, I pick a random cut and blast the audio back over the loud speakers for hole's reminiscent edification.

I should really return to the present, however, because as I said today is a very special one for my trained fucktoy. To mark our three year anniversary together, I have an unbelievable surprise for her waiting in the wings.

For a little background, it has only been through a sheer, disciplined force of will that I have been able to refrain from abducting hole's two hottie biological sisters. Not that I didn't perform extensive research on their locations and daily routines. It's just that their captures would not be nearly as seamless or safe (for Me) as their dear sister's was.

For my kidnapping of hole, I waited for the ideal parameters before making my move. And, for her hole's new playmate, I owed it to myself to generally follow the same guidelines that had already proven so effective.

Switching my focus away from hole's routine ab-workout, I glance at the bank of HD monitors to my left and see the wonderful new addition to our family.

Its name is "inu" (pronounced e-new), and it is a Japanese foreign exchange student, a petite female of eighteen tender years who just had a rather abrupt and permanent change of address from its off-campus apartment.

inu has long, shiny hair framing an adorably innocent asian face. No breasts to speak of, flat as a rail actually, and it is a full foot shorter than hole. The exotic beauty's limbs are so skinny that I cannot imagine a set of measuring calipers being able to locate a single pinch of body fat on that diminutive but delectable package.

inu was able to enjoy living in America for only four weeks before I painstakingly took possession of it just a few days ago, and its command of the English language is sorely inadequate. Because of this, I have chosen the Japanese word for 'dog' as a fitting name to reinforce its new status here. In addition, it will never be given the chance to increase its English vocabulary beyond the basic dog training commands, sexual directions, and bodily functions.

It will be treated like a pet in every way. And, it will be fucked like a whore.

According to the informed but unwary sources I beguiled into providing further details about the pocket-sized "Yuko Masaya", she comes from a large family in Japan, and traveled to the States to study art history. Those who interacted with the newcomer found her to be extremely polite but studiously quiet and circumspect. She kept to herself mostly, except for attending a couple of gatherings of fellow Japanese ex-pats at the local student union.

During my blitz ransacking of her freshly painted but modest living quarters, I learned that my newest prize is also an aspiring artist. And, I have to admit that the full-color manga drawings in her personal portfolios I made off with are quite impressive and detailed.

So, my current plan is to befoul her artwork in some cruelly inventive way before displaying the constant reminders of her former life on the barren walls of her new home.

"its" new home, to be more precise.

The difference between hole and inu is that my very first sex slave will always hold a special place in my heart. She was captured to fill a certain emptiness in my deviant soul, and she pleases Me in ways I never before considered. Without question, she is still treated like an object to be used and frequently abused, but with my latest acquisition, inu, things will be quite different.

******

Kneeling submissively beside Me is my obedient hole, and the unexpected sight before her is surely one of disorienting deja vu.

For the last three days, inu has been subject to the same stark experience hole originally underwent upon her own arrival here three years ago. Locked naked in an escape-proof cage with a steel collar closely and traumatically tethering its fragile neck to the middle of the floor, inu has lived in kidnapped, bleak silence.

Of course, the captured pet has the same amenities hole was generously afforded: access to clean drinking water, oversized coffee can with lid, and toilet paper. But, the lack of answers and food have, according to plan, kept it on frightful edge.

A stream of animated but unintelligible Japanese is flowing out of the frantic inu at the moment, despite my demonic appearance before her and hole's outrageously exhibitionistic leather slave harness that fully showcases her enviable charms.

Ignoring the blabber, because I have no idea what the fuck it's saying, I turn to my original fucktoy and relish her intriguing facial expressions. "This is inu, hole... a new doggy slave that belongs to you now. What do you think?"

hole is trembling, and her breaths have come at a faster pace ever since we entered the room. "Master?" she asks with a troubled look, still staring straight ahead at the cage's unknown occupant.

"Yes, my good girl?" I reach down and stroke her hair.

"this hole doesn't understand, Master. wha... why... what does Master mean she belongs to this hole?"

"It, hole... "it" belongs to you. You will train it to behave like a loyal doggy slave, obey basic commands, and teach it the sexual skills it will need to please others. There are specific rules you must follow in regards to inu's training, though."

I reach into a fold of my robe and produce a laminated card that displays a typed list of words, handing it down to my beautiful slave. "First, you will never utter a single word to inu that is not present on that list. As you can hear, it doesn't speak English, and we are going to keep it that way. As an animal, it won't have use for words anyhow. Do you understand?"

"yes, Master," she nods her pony-tailed head, but keeps her perfect posture as she peruses the card in hand. After gulping a swallow of consternation, eyes raised again to the very familiar cage, hole appears to have burgeoning tears threatening to spill over.

"There, there, babydoll," I say soothingly. "You remember how things were when you first came to live here? And, now just think how proud Master is of you and how happy you are to serve as a pleasure slave."

With a tense half-smile, still fighting back tears, hole replies, "yes, Master, thank you, Master."

"That's better," I gently coax her head over to rest against my shrouded thigh. Looking up again, I regard our new puppy-cunt, seeing its dark, silky hair matted wildly in places against its skin.

"I tire of this shrill gibberish," I complain after a moment. Delving into another pocket, I produce a small remote-control device with a single trigger button and a dial with ten settings. Lowering it to level one, I pass the object down to hole.

"You haven't been in your cage for quite some time, hole, but that wasn't just because there has been a new occupant to accommodate. I've actually made a few modifications to the cage since you last visited, and this is one of them."

hole studies the device, turning it over in her palm, her other hand still grasping the plastic card tightly.

"The steel collar around inu's neck now has the ability to shock it at the level selected on the dial. You have ten minutes, hole, to teach it to stop yammering like that. Also, to "speak" with a light, feminine bark, to "roll over" with limp wrists and ankles held in the air, and to "wag" its naked, little ass. You may choose whatever power setting you feel appropriate, and you may shock it as often as you like. This is your pet, hole. Probably, the best approach will be for you to demonstrate the action you want performed, because you are only allowed to use the words on that card. Does my slave understand?"

Seemingly dazed and still unsure, she nevertheless nods, "yes, Master."

"Movement protocols are temporarily lifted, hole, so you may roam freely around the cage, but stay inside the ring of lights. I will step away and let you begin, but your task WILL be accomplished before ten minutes have passed. The lightboard on top of the cage will start counting down momentarily."

Departing, I am anxious to sit at my console and watch inu's first training exercise with hole unfold.

The frightened bitch gripping the iron bars increases its attempts at communication as soon as I am out of sight. It must be thinking that another female, even one dressed like a fetish whore, will surely come to its aid.

Standing now, hole tentatively approaches the cage. She bites her lower lip and glances at the card. "Quiet!" she says after a while, but without resolve.

"prease haarp, prease," inu attempts, switching to English. The words are obviously unfamiliar, and inu's gossamer eyebrows are furrowed with the effort of its alien beseechment.

hole squeezes her eyes shut, clearly unprepared for this task, and turns her head away. All of a sudden, she faces forward again and screams "QUIET!" jabbing the button on the remote, and extending it forward towards the cage like a sharp sword.

inu flinches as the mild gnat-sting reaches its neck. Its hands fly to its throat. "prease harp," it soon begins again, now more desperate. "i want go, prease," it begs. Its straight strands of dark hair hang past its shoulders, and almost brush its unexpectedly prominent nipples.

As I let my mind wander, I speculate that those pleasantly surprising eraser tips of flesh will be constantly amusing gateways into the bitch's highly impressionable nervous system. But, not wanting to miss a single second, I quickly refocus on the show at hand.

Looking around, seemingly at a loss, and becoming more and more frustrated, hole squats down in front of inu. Luckily not too closely, because the collared bitch extends its hands through the thick bars in wide-eyed pleading toward its potential savior.

hole is staring back at the only other person she's seen in real life for years, but she calmly lifts her left hand to cover her own mouth in demonstration. She exaggeratedly pushes the button right in front of inu's face, causing it to recoil again and jump where it still squats.

This seems to do the trick as the asian bitch's words trail off, and in my mind, I laud hole's cleverness at being able to keep the dial on its lowest setting so far. I laugh, wondering how long that will last.

hole nods her head emphatically and half-smiles at inu's puzzled silence. It becomes even more puzzled as hole glances at the timer, sees only eight minutes remaining, and then says, "speak!" followed by a playful "arp!"

The caged female just stares imploringly at hole. "i want go," it says with a profoundly heartsick frown.

hole shakes her head and turns the dial, but I am unable to see the new level chosen. "Quiet!"

inu's eyes abruptly screw shut, and its petite shoulders try to jump past its head as the voltage surges. It yelps in pain, tugging with its hands at the heavy, fitted collar closely ringing its slight neck. It is able to maintain itself on its squatting feet, but fearful keening is now the only sound it's making.

I reach up to trigger the Public Address speakers that will transmit my voice into the room. "hole, say your new pet's name, "inu", along with each command so the poor doggy can grow accustomed to it."

Smirking, I ponder that I didn't tell hole what "inu" actually means, and I take pleasure knowing that the little dehumanized japanese cunt will hear itself being called "dog" in the only words it ever hears of its native language from now on.

"inu," hole begins again, "speak, arp!"

The caged prisoner's face registers a definite change hearing the new word, and after a moment it meekly sits back on its rear. It grabs its thin legs tightly and allows its unkempt hair to fan across its face and knees as it rocks inconsolably back and forth.

hole tries again, "inu, speak... arp!"

No change.

"come on, please, just do it," hole whines.

Activating the PA again, I ask, "Are those words anywhere on the card, hole?"

Her head reflexively faces downward again at the sound of my voice. "no, Master, this hole is sorry, Master."

"Well, you get to sleep in the lockbox tonight, cunt, instead of Master's bed. Now, you have five minutes left before things get even worse."

"yes, Master, thank you, Master. inu, SPEAK! arp!" she hurls the words at the girl still ignoring her.

No response, except continued muted sniffling from within the cage.

Another turn of the dial by hole has my rapt attention on the high-definition widescreens in front of Me. Not to mention on the throbbing cock now filling my obliging palm.

ZAP!

inu emits an agonized scream and crumples on its side to the floor, neck-chain clinking on the way down. It curls into a fetal ball and twitches as it absorbs the elevated jolt inside its coldly illuminated and austere cage.

"inu," hole calls with ringing authority this time, "SPEAK! arp!" she shouts.

On its side, muscles still drawn, fright palpably visible on its scrunching face, the doggy-slut attempts a feeble "arp!" at last.

The ignorant, little bitch must have finally put its new name and the barking sound together in its thoughts, I muse. I absently wonder what's going through the puppy's mind right now. Is it starting to realize what its new role in this place will be?

I adore the fact that inu will comprehend even less about its degrading, bewildering situation than hole ever did in its parallel place. The oriental animal with the undoubtedly tight, fuckable holes will simply assume its role in our bizarre family, and it will have no understanding of why, thanks to the permanent language barrier. It will respond obediently in the future to our basic repertoire of commands, or it will suffer in creative ways it never before imagined.

"speak, inu," hole tests without providing the example this time. She raises the remote control in warning, lifting her eyebrows.

"arp!" sounds once more from the doggy-slut, and hole lowers the device in tacit approval. However, she seems to panic when she spots the glowing countdown with only a minute and a half remaining.

"roll over, inu," she blurts, shifting herself on her back with wrists folded downward and legs bent into the air. "ROLL OVER, inu!" she yells.

The foreign captive merely shakes its head in confusion, or maybe denial, as it lays weakly on its side.

ZAP!

More debilitating pain shoots with lightning speed through the internally insulated chain and directly into inu's defenseless neck. Its nude, twiggy body writhes in affliction, its nerves on fire and unable to prevent the invisible intrusion.

hole remains in the same dog-trick position. "inu, ROLL OVER!" she nods her head vigorously, anxiously trying to beat the clock and persuade her novice trainee. hole's worried eyes bounce back and forth between the top of the cage and down to inu, knowing she has yet another command to impart after this one.

inu, after finally understanding or finally deciding to comply to avoid further agony, flops itself to its back and imitates the action. The relief is palpable in hole's expression, and inu must be aware of this as it searches her face.

With only 30 seconds to spare, hole whirls her body to pose on all fours just a few feet from the cage. "inu, WAG!" she almost begs. She gives her own firm ass an energetic wiggle.

inu, still on its back, allows its arms and legs to descend from the "roll over position", but it then remains lying apathetically on the floor of the cage. Its focused eyes, however, seem to stare daggers into those of the woman who continues to torture and humiliate it so.

I've seen it before. I saw the look on hole's face several times in the beginning of our budding relationship. It's the sign of a slave digging its heels in and deciding to try to withstand whatever is thrown at it next, rather than provide you the satisfaction of seeing it obey.

At ten seconds left, hole lifts the shockbox into the air, and I watch inu in suspenseful anticipation, wondering which level the doggy-cunt will receive this time.

Nothing though... no reaction.

hole allows her hand to fall to the ground, and she slowly maneuvers her body into the required kneeling position to await her Master and his judgment.

As I re-enter the cage chamber, with its ring of floodlights shining down on my pair of marionette possessions, I approach hole without speaking. I reach down and pluck the remote roughly out of her hand.

It seems that she never set it above level five. "What a softy," I chortle inside.

Turning to inu, I increase the shock factor by a single notch, and I command, "WAG, inu!" in my baritone voice.

No movement inside the cage.

ZAP!

"WAG, inu!" I repeat after its body has eventually contained its hysterical paroxysms once more.

Still no compliance.

At level seven now... ZAP!

More education for my new doggy-bitch, and its piercing, high-pitched wails show the proof.

"WAG, inu!" I intone again after mere seconds.

hole has been watching with lifted eyes the whole time, and I see her close them finally in defeat as inu unsteadily manages to rise to all fours and performs a beautiful wag just the way hole showed it how.

inu's whole body is trembling, but the way that lean ass is gyrating, wagging like an excited puppy-whore makes Me want to stuff my rigid pole up her puckered, no-doubt virgin asshole without delay.

"You failed in your task, hole. So, not only will you spend the night in the box for disobeying orders, but the internal temperature will be raised to a cozy 85 degrees, and you can sweat out whatever toxins are causing you to behave like a deaf fucking moron."

hole takes her harsh sentencing quietly and stoically with head bowed.

"You are going to be responsible for showing this asiatic bitch its new place in our happy home, hole. It needs to learn many new skills, and some of its teachings will focus on how to bring pleasure to a human female. If you're a good girl, you will be permitted to take advantage of its presence here."

"Now, go in the supply room," I continue, "and bring back the silver dog bowl and some dry kibble. inu hasn't eaten in days, and the frightened puppy must be starving."

I decide inu has had enough introduction for the time being. But, my stiff boner is not going to be satisfied simply to deflate of its own accord. Instead, I think I will use a few of hole's namesake orifices to relieve my cravings, before I lock her in her cramped box for many sweltering, contemplative hours.

After all, tomorrow will be another momentous day for my pair of playtoys. I just have to decide when I want the lesbian games between them to commence. And, should it be a loving, tender moment for their very first time together? Or, do I prefer to implement one of my more perverted mind-fucking scenarios to further assault their emotions as they manipulate and toy with each other's lovely bodies?

Alas... the burden of ownership is that all the difficult decisions must constantly fall to Me.

End of part 5

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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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hole Control

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