The First Day – 2

Consciousness came to her quickly in the darkness.  She tried to turn her head to the source of the sound but a searing pain reminded her that her new nose ring was tightly padlocked to the pole in front of her.  From the corner of her eye she could see a crack of light in the basement coming from up above.

“FUCKING USELESS WHORE!”

She heard something thump its way down the stairs, landing heavily, a jingling of chain accompanying it.  It petered out into a quiet sob before a soft click signalled the illumination of the bare neon tubes flickered into life in the basement.

Half naked Kinkytramp slowly started to crawl away from the base of the stairs where she had landed, she was tangled in the chain that attached to her ankle and was clearly in a lot of pain.  Her hair was a mess, it had clearly been wrenched in several directions, and her makeup was more a generalised smear from both slapping and crying it looked like.

“This cunt apologises, Master, she slipped…she begs for mercy…”

“MERCY? I FELT TEETH YOU CUNT!”

Their Master stormed down into the basement, a maroon robe loosely tied at the waist doing nothing to hide his swinging half erection as he reached the bottom of the stairs.  He grabbed the hair at the nape of Kinkytart’s neck, and bodily dragged her to her feet as her eyes rolled in pain, and she gave out a shrill yelp.

“You’ve crossed the line with my kindness, you worthless unskilled harlot…”

He slammed her into the wooden cross she’d been bound to for their nightly whipping and began to secure her in the cuffs once more.

“40 extra lashes a day for a week, 3 days without food, 3 days without sunlight, that should beat some sense into your tiny mind”

Quiet sobs were the only answer from the broken woman who hung limply in her cuffs.  He tore off the rest of her clothing and discarded it.  His right hand wrapped itself around her neck and pulled her head up to look him in the eye.

“You know what, I think you need a little more incentive.”

Jizzyteen tried to reposition herself to see what was going on but with her nose, hands, and legs bound she had little mobility.

“No, no, no, no, please, not that, please, this cunt begs you, she is sorry, she slipped!”

“Too late, cunt, it’s on a timer now.”

He turned to Jizzyteen.

“This should be a learning experience for you, plainslut.  Let’s get you up close and personal for this.”

The relief of him unlocking her nose was huge, next were her hands, and then he undid the straps on her legs.  She was quickly yanked to her feet by a firm grip on her hair and pushed forwards to be inches from the weeping Kinkytart.

He showed her his phone again.

“Look at this…I’ve re-enabled your clit, upped all the right hormone levels….you’re going to be a horny little painslut in seconds…but look at this.” He change screens and a yellow timer appeared.  “This is a countdown to this little slut’s own private hell.  You may not notice, but inside each of these…” he pointed to a small silver square on Kinkytart’s choker “…is not just a BFA tracker, but also a G-Pax injector.  Do you know what G-Pax is, little painslut?”

“No Master…”

“Dumb little slut, just how you should be…  G-Pax is what keeps us in control of pussy like you.  One wrong move and whatever you’re doing we can stop you dead.  It’s a powerful neurotoxin,” she could feel herself becoming more and more horny with every word, he was holding her close, “it comes in two parts.  One paralyses most of the body.  Oh you can breathe, your eyes can still move, but other than that little sluts like you are locked in, immobile, perfect obedient fuckmeat.  Now, Jizzyteen, start fingering yourself.” His breath was hot on her neck, as her hand reached down between her thighs and she began to play with herself.  “The other part is the good part.  It lights up every nerve like you’re being burned, electrocuted, and stabbed at the same time.  For two hours disobedient cunts get to suffer in absolute immobile silence.”

Jizzyteen’s knees slowly began to go weak from the fingering.  “No, slut.  Keep standing, I want your pleasure to be in her pain.  I want her every suffering from now on to bring you to climax.  Most of the time you’ll be the one suffering, but I want you to have this little piece of schadenfreude.” he slowly forced the two of them together so their tits pressed together.  “60 second countdown now Kinkytart.  Any last begging”

Jizzyteen’s fingers were working quickly around her clit as she gasped, whatever changes he had made to her were clearly warping what she felt but she felt so good for it.  She managed a look at Kinkytart as he spoke though.  Tears rolled down over her face, and the bruising on one cheek was rapidly darkening.  There was fear  in her eyes, but she said nothing.  She knew the time for begging was long over, there was nothing she could do to avoid the pain now.  Kinkytart looked back at Jizzyteen, her pupils heavily dilated, a goofy half smile spreading across her face as she panted and writhed in her Master’s grasp.  She’d seen this before, she wondered how many more times she’d have to see it before he decided enough was enough and it was time to get rid of her.  Nowhere could be worse than this, she thought as he made sure to show her the timer enter its final few seconds.  She braced herself for the pain hoping it wouldn’t be as bad as the last couple of times while knowing there was nothing she could do to prepare herself for that agony.

“Time’s up, cunt.”

Jizzyteen watched Kinkytart jolt a little, presumably the micro-injector entering her neck.  For a second there was nothing, then her eyes widened from the searing pain.  It looked like she was about to scream, and writhe but her limbs went limp, and her head dropped to her chest.

Max lifted Kinkytart’s head so Jizzyteen could see the wide fearful eyes that were the only external clues to the agony going on inside.  “Go on slut, play with yourself harder.  I want you to look at this pain, this fear.  I want you to see the agony I can inflict with a touch of a button on other women and I want you to come so hard you can barely stand.”

She felt her juices beginning to drip down her inner thigh as she looked into those bright green eyes, Kinkytart’s pupils now mere pinpricks as she began to drool with flecks of foam surrounding her open mouth.  Jizzyteen’s euphoria lasted only a second, though, as she felt Max’s cock find its way between her cheeks.  With a tug of her hair, and thrust of his pelvis he was inside her.  Reflexively confused, in pain, but still aroused she squirted all over the floor in shock before the true realisation of his girth came over her.  He was too big, she thought, he was going to rip her in half.

Now his arms moved around her, not in a loving embrace, but with the left arm snaking around her neck so it rested in the crook of his elbow, her head itself just under his chin.  His right arm forced her belly back towards him as he thrust himself forwards, jolting her entire body from the power he was using to fuck her.

His pace wasn’t quick, she cried out in pain as his cock violated her again and again.  For a moment she tried to struggle and found his arm closing around her neck as his pace slowed even further.

“No, no struggles from you.  I want to hear your pain and your frustration.  Cry all you want it only makes me harder but if I feel one more bit of resistance from you then clearly I’ll need to beat it out of you this evening.”

She resigned herself.  For years she’d buried all thoughts of slavery.  The way her father treated her mother she felt safe, like it could never happen to her.  He’d even paid to have her PI done by a Slavenurse under the watchful eyes of a Fem-vet.  It was still intrusive, and embarrassing, but it beat being herded around like cattle at the BFA.  She knew tales of too many girls who’d never left that place.  She’d wondered for weeks what had happened to Penny, one day she’d been in class, she’d talked about having her PI after classes one day and then she was never seen again.

She knew this was going to be her life now.  Pain, violation, abuse.  This sick bastard that was her Master wanted to see her hurt, wanted her to scream.  In her heart of hearts she knew there was only so much she could resist, how far she could push before he’d do something truly monstrous to her…as if what he’d done already wasn’t enough.  She resolved herself to give in, to accept things as they were.  She relaxed.

Her entire weight was being supported by him, so she shifted imperceptibly to rest more of her body on him.  It wasn’t so bad, she told herself.  He was warm, his muscles and the way he held his arms told her where she needed to be.  She could still feel him pounding away at her ass, the slapping on her cheeks rippling through what she knew to be a pleasingly round backside.  As she relaxed and concentrated she found that as he pumped into her she could squeeze him back.  It still hurt, but with the change of position he was now slamming her so hard that some of that force was going right to her g-spot.

A tiny ripple of pleasure welled inside her and his next thrust forced an inrush of excited breath.  “So, you little slut, not so innocent after all are you.  You know how to squeeze a cock to please a Master.  How many of the boys at school anally violated you?”

“Guh…..hnn…..none…..Master!”

He continued pounding away, “A boyfriend then, or maybe….a girlfriend with a strap-on….I know what you sluts are like.”

“Ahhh…..hnnn…..no, Master!” She was surprised to feel that tears were flowing now.  Part in pain, part from the orgasm earlier, and the continued slapping of her g-spot now.  He eyes rolled up into her head, and her tongue lolled out of her mouth as she felt conscious thought slipping away.  Her ass was in serious pain, there was no denying it, she doubted she’d even be able to stand upright after this, but at least for the moment she could find a small morsel of respite.

She felt his grip tighten around her.  With her diaphragm compressed, and his meaty arm encircling her neck she was now breathing shllowly, and even then only through gritted teeth.  With a grunt, and a series of rapid thrusts he came inside her, before pushing her off and letting her limp, drooling body fall to the floor.

“That was acceptable, slut.  5 lashes off for this evening.  Now, I need to get ready for work, and Kinkytart is insensible.  So you’re coming upstairs.”

Max paused briefly to remove the ankle cuff from Kinkytart, leaving her to her silent agony.  Keeping the cuff in hand he pulled Jizzyteen by the hair up the stairs, and back into the main house.  She clenched desperately so as not to be blamed for getting cum on anything.  He rummaged around in a cupboard and extracted a dress, stockings, and heels all in the same old-fashioned style Kinkytart had been wearing.  It was only a few steps from the cupboard to the shower room that Jizzyteen had seen before, and he threw her inside with enough force to make her roll slightly on impact.

“You will wash, thoroughly, inside and out.  Makeup, perfumes, and mirror are in the cabinet.  You will dry, style your hair appropriately, and then cuff yourself.  I will be back to open the door when I am ready, and you had better be too.  Remember, no hot water, it makes sluts like you lazy and content.”

“Yes, Ma–” her words died as the door slammed and locked.  She wanted to cry again.  She hurt all over still, and she suspected that was never not going to be the case.  Her sense of self preservation forced her to her feet and she began to wash.  The water was still freezing but at least she was being allowed to clean herself.  If nothing else Max seemed obsessed that they were clean and groomed as often as possible which she thought was a small blessing next to the idea of living in filth like some of the poorly cared for petgirls she’d seen out in the world.

She remembered to pay careful attention to her piercings again.  They were still mostly swollen, but at least the pain was now somewhat lessened, and the cold water did something to lessen the swelling of the cauterised flesh.  Unpleasant as it was she made a particular point of cleaning out the deposit of cum in her rear end.

Her shower was hurried, not just for the temperature, but in the knowledge that her master might return at any moment.  She gave herself a rapid rub down with antiseptic creams after drying off, and then moved onto the clothes.  White stockings, she’d never had to wear those before, but they felt smooth next to her skin.  A lack of panties, she didn’t have to wonder why, a pale blue house dress with white cuffs, and neckline, a white apron, and finally some short matching powder blue heels.  She did her makeup as bast she could to match Kinkytart.  Ruby red lips, plenty of eyeshadow, even some blusher.  In a moment of inspiration she even mimicked the beauty mark Kinkytart had.  Her hair was definitely too long to mimic Kinkytart, though, so she settled for a quick braid that hung down over one shoulder in front of her.  She looked in the mirror that backed one of the cabinets, she was the vision of a TV Housewife from the distant past if you ignored the thick piercing under her nose.  Quickly she remembered the ankle cuff, shutting the cupboard she located it and pushed it closed around her ankle.  With a few clicks of the internal ratchet she was firmly bound to the house, ready for whatever miserable tasks were to be doled out.

She tried to remember how house slaves should act from some mandatory classes they’d been given.  She knelt next to the door hands in her lap, gaze lowered. She didn’t have long to wait before the door opened, Max was stood there in pale grey trousers, a shirt, and tie.

“Well, well, well, little whore.  You polish up very nicely.”  He inspected her thoroughly for mistakes and found none, but paused at the beauty mark, “and observant too.  Did that disobedient little cunt Kinkytart tell you to add this?”

“No Master, but she said you had added it to her and I thought…”

The slap that followed wiped her off her knees and sent her to the floor.  Her skull bounced with a sickening thud off the floor that left her seeing stars.  “You’re not here to think, Slut, you’re here to suffer.”  He said calmly, “In future I will TELL you when I want something like that.  In future you will also remember to refer to yourself only as ‘this slut’ or ‘this cunt’, although any suitably demeaning term is acceptable.  You may, though, continue to use that beauty mark in future if you are performing my wife slave’s duties.  Understood?”

Jizzyteen tried to suffocate the urge to talk back within her.  Her face stung and some of her makeup now marked the white tiles of the floor.  She resumed her former position, eyes down, and quelled the need to ball her fists and scream. After a second or so she calmly replied “Yes, Master.”

“The braid…”

“Yes, Master?” Jizzyteen prepared herself for another slap.

“Surrender it.”

Jizzyteen almost wept internally.  She held out the tip of the braid above her head, putting her other hand to the base.  She inclined her head to the floor and waited for him to take full control of her.  His hand grasped the braid between hers and wound it tightly around his fist, pulling her face with its trembling lips close in to his crotch.

“Get used to that.  I like a good sloppy blowjob oved breakfast.”

He let her loose again.

“Now, bacon, 2 scrambled eggs, and buttered toast with a strong black coffee.  Get cooking, cunt, and as you are acting in place of my wife-slave today you may skip the bitchwalking inside the house.”

Keeping her eyes lowered she headed into the kitchen.  She’d never really had to cook for herself, so she guessed she’d have to learn fast.  She knew nothing less than perfection would be accepted, that she would be punished for asking questions, this was a game she could not win.  At least the breakfast was simple she thought, as she worked away.  She could get it done quickly, be punished and be locked up next to Kinkytart inside an hour.

As she cooked her stomach growled at her.  She realised she was still starving.  Even her amateur attempts at cookery were enough to send her mouth watering but she wasn’t fool enough to attempt to steal from her master’s plate.  She looked at the meal she’d made, and deemed it as ready as it was going to be.  With a heavy heart she first went out into the dining area with cutlery, a mug, and condiments, before coming back a second time for the food and coffee press.

Max was skim reading the paper as she served him the items and then knelt next to him, eyes solidly aimed to the floor.

“No, slut, under the table.  I want to hear gagging.”

She crawled under the table to find his legs already spread, flies undone, and cock presented.  She locked her arms behind her back and began the next task of the day.  He’d asked for gagging and she was more than able to provide as his cock filled her mouth and she attempted to go as low as she could, remembering his lesson about use of her tongue from the previous night.

She had to be careful, as she bobbed her head up and down on the increasingly slick and girthy member she became aware how close she was to cmacking her head off the underside of the table.  She knew she was already in enough trouble without spilling her master’s drink too.

She hated him.  With every headbob, with every splutter.  She hated him.  He’d taken her life and reduced her to a fucktoy.  She’d known him properly for less than a day and she’d already experienced more hardship than she had at any other time in her short life, a life that he had threatened to make even shorter on multiple occasions.  The more she hated him the more it hurt.  The piercings, the nicks and cuts, the bruises, the lack of sleep.  If she knew it wouldn’t have been a death sentence she’d have bitten his cock off then and there.  She spluttered and choked again, wondering if it was even worth prolonging her life by serving the old bastard.  He’d made it plain he was just in it for her to suffer, was that even recognisable as life?

Perhaps, she thought, this kind of thing was a little too philosophical when she was supposed to be focussed on serving and worshipping her master’s cock.  She was caught by surprise as he reached under the table, thrusting her forwards with one hand, and with the other locking her nosering onto a part of his belt buckle she hadn’t even really noticed.

Suddenly her body became aware it was trapped and triggered her fight or flight.  First came the noises of protest, the attempt to pull back, the intense pain, and then further deep gagging and crying.

She became aware he’d pulled his chair back to watch her suffer.  She remembered back to the anal fucking he’d given her earlier, and how she’d made that bearable.  She gave in, she relaxed.  If he was going to choke her to death on his cock then so be it.  She’d give him a blowjob on the way out that would make him regret it.  Relaxing her throat made the gagging less painful at least.  Her lungs and eyes burned, but she kept up her tongue work, and kept up what motion she could with her nosering attached to his belt.

She wanted to live.

She knew it would be nothing but pain but she wanted to live.  He could fuck her in the ass every single day but she knew if she could stick around long enough she’d have the pleasure of watching the bastard pass away from a heart attack, or liver failure, or something else.  She probably wouldn’t be far behind, either that or she’d be auctioned off to some new sicko but it would be worth it to be the grieving painslut at his funeral.

She was feeling light-headed now.  The cock in her throat rapidly losing her track of time as her skull swam with every internal human alarm for oxygen crying out and she had to resist them all to focus on making him cum.

She felt the nosering as it was unclipped, the yank on her braid as her head was forced back, and the thick warm cum as it poured into her mouth.  She took big inadequate breaths through her nose as she knelt there, mouth open, head back.  Relishing being alive.  She swore she could feel her nipples stiffen under the dress as the inrush of oxygen brought her a tiny piece of euphoria, and a slight smile came over face as she looked into her master’s eyes.

He wiped his hands on the napkin she’d brought out and idly picked some bacon out of his teeth.  Absent-mindedly he grabbed his plate and scraped a little bacon fat, leftover egg, and toast crumbs into her mouth.  “You may now swallow.”

For a second she savoured it, even mixed with the thick salty cum the tiny scraps of human food helped her cling on for even a second to some shred of a normal life, and then they were gone, drowned out as she swallowed by the sticky residue that coated her tongue.

“The bacon was acceptable, the eggs were overdone so that’s five more lashes, the toast was on the buttery side but acceptable.  Unlike that cunt Kinkytart, however you know how to lay a table, make a fine coffee, and the blowjob was on the better side of things.  Overall I’d say surprisingly spares you 10 lashes.”

“This cunt thanks you for your generosity, Master, and will learn to better serve you in future.” she replied.  She cast her eyes down to avoid his gaze, but she caught the hint of a faint smile as he drank his coffee.  In her mind she willed him to choke on it.  She hoped a rogue ground got through the filter, and she could kneel here watching him turn purple, choking out in front of her.  Let’s see how he liked a lack of oxygen, she thought.

“First you will clean and tidy yourself to the same standard as earlier, then I will leave for work.  Your duties for the day are listed in the kitchen.  I have access to cameras all the time, so if I see you sit on any furniture, or kneel for more than 3 minutes at a time before all your work is done I will beat you senseless on my return.  The cunt downstairs is not to be spoken to, released, fed, or watered.  If she soils herself, though, she is to receive thirty HARD smacks across the ass with the cane…I want to see bruising, are we clear?”

“Yes, Master.”

And with that he picked up his paper, briefcase, and jacket before leaving the house.

—

Jizzyteen was sweating.  The list of chores was ridiculous.  It had times down to the minute of what she should be doing.  Polishing, scrubbing, cleaning.  Loose hair was plastered to her face, and every time she so much as thought about cutting a corner her master’s voice was played from a nearby speaker instructing her to do things again, change what she was doing, or move on to her next task.

To her mind it was a wonder that there was a house left, and that everything hadn’t simply been polished away.  He had allowed her a short break for some girlfodder and water at lunchtime on the proviso her skirt was hiked up over her head so he could watch her finger herself through the cameras over her feed bowl until she squirted screaming his name.  It was disgusting, and humiliating, and all the worse for that is the fact that at no point did she not consider eating it.  Gnawing hunger, it would seem, was the norm here.  If she wanted to survive she’d have to take any opportunity she could to get some food in her.

She’d taken careful note of Max’s rules written at the end of his insane list.  He clearly had something wrong in his head.  He was to be greeted with a smile and a kiss, and addressed as darling when he returned.  Food would be ready for him, and as it turned out every meal was blowjob time, and she was also the dustbin for food waste.  She’d sighed at the lines in the schedule that demanded punishment for the painslut…she guessed she’d be the focus of that once Kinkytart was allowed up from the basement.  The sick fuck had her in for multiple sessions a day he could watch live on camera.  Whippings, electrical torture, suspension…anything and everything to cause pain and humiliation.

At one point she was ordered downstairs to clean up after where Kinkytart had wet herself.  Luckily the crosses were over a drain, so all it took was a quick hose out and around.  She was about to head upstairs again when a speaker burst into life.

“No, you airheaded little cunt.  She doesn’t get away with it. Get the cane and turn her ass red raw.  Hike your dress up too, I want to see you get off as you do it.”

Kinkytart was still secured facing outwards, she’d recovered from her dose of G-Pax but was now pale, and shivering from the cold water she’d just been washed off with.  Jizzyteen began the process of reconfiguring the restraints to give access to her ass for whipping.  Kinkytart’s eyes were heavy, and wet with tears, her breathing shuddered as Jizzyteen turned her around, and began locking her back in place.

“Please don’t do this, please, please, I can’t take any more…” she whispered as Jizzyteen restrained her.  She tried to remain emotionless, she knew this had to be done or her own punishment would be twice as bad…but that didn’t stop the pleading working its way into her head.This was a girl nearly the same age as herself, and she was expected to mercilessly beat her.  She thought back to the schedule upstairs.  Had this girl been involved in everything she’d seen there?  The electrocutions, beatings, rape, strangulation….she wondered if Bouncymeat had been given an ounce of mercy by this cunt as she went about her daily beatings.  She wondered if the last thing Bouncymeat had seen had been Kinkytart’s hands clasped around her neck, pulling uselessly at restraints as their Master goaded her into choking her harder and harder until the poor little painslut had surrendered.

She hiked up her skirt, and her apron, giving the camera a good view of her smooth soft pussy, her clit ring showing a cold yellow under the buzzing fluorescent lights of the basement.  She picked up the cane and began to gently finger herself as Kinkytart’s begging and whimpering grew louder, and more desperate.  She landed the first blow across both cheeks hard and a crimson line of pain stood out for a second as Kinkytart yelped in pain.

She pulled harder at the restraints, and Jizzyteen could see now she was working to a similar problem Jizzyteen herself had found…pull too hard and even soft leather tightens and begins to feel like it’s scything through the skin.  She was working herself with two fingers now, her hips gyrating as she landed her next blow.  It landed in the exact same place as the previous one and this time the yelp was louder, while the red was darker.  It felt good to be in control, she thought.  Jizzyteen had done nothing for her punishments, she thought, while this whore had gotten things wrong, maybe she should be punished.  Maybe she should be the one suffering for all the things she’d willingly done to women like herself without cause.  Blow after blow led to more and more anguished cries.  The begging stopped but the weeping continued, cries of anguish were forced out of Kinkytart with each landing of the cane.

Jizzyteen was moaning hard now, more than twenty blows in.  She was being more than fair, she was spreading the beating out but from time to time Kinkytart would try to wriggle to somewhere else and land up with the cane impacting an area that was already red, or now even purple.  The flinching and screaming became even worse.  With each landed blow Jizzyteen imagined Kinkytart gloating over Bouncymeat as she dealt out punishments, going above and beyond what their master wanted.  She could see this bitch there, she thought, a cruel smile on her face as she pulled on Bouncymeat’s own sensitive piercings.  Her only problem was she’d never met Bouncymeat, so instead Jizzyteen imagined herself in that situation, begging and pleading for Mercy from an uncaring, and sadistic cunt like Kinkytart.  Her knees started to give way as the beating entered the mid to late twenties.  She was almost ready to climax but stopped herself just short.

27.  27 blows had landed, Kinkytart was shrieking in pain now, and it was only through Jizzyteen’s best efforts there was still no broken skin…Jizzyteen wouldn’t want to try and sit down if she was her, though.  She suspected it would end poorly.  28.  It was like there was a rising pressure within her, she could feel it.  Heady, tempting, seductive.  29. Her knees buckled and collided, she whimpered and added a third finger to the two already gently caressing the inside of her pussy.  She was biting her lip hard now.  30.

“30 blows, Master.  May this cunt cum?”

In the silence that followed she realised she would not be allowed, and slowly she removed the three fingers, small drops of liquid falling from them to the floor as her breathing returned to normal.

The speakers crackled once more.

“Pull Kinkytart’s head to face you, and kiss her as you cum.  Thank her for the pain that has allowed you to cum.”

Jizzyteen approached the bound and weeping Kinkytart, gently moving her head so they looked face to face.  As her pussy throbbed, eager for more she realised how beautiful the glittering green of Kinkytart’s eyes was as she cried.

“This cunt thanks you for your pain.” said Jizzyteen as she leant in and landed a sweet and gentle kiss on Kinkytart’s lips.  Instinctively Kinkytart returned it as she stood there, delirious in anguish.  Jizzyteen’s tongue parted her lips and they moved into a deeper more full kiss as Jizzyteen’s fingers got up to full speed and did their work reducing her to a brainless, mindless orgasmic slut once more.  She drank in the kiss.  She knew from now this would be their life.  Each one hurting the other, and being made to enjoy it.  It should have made her sick, she realised, but here she was with three fingers deep inside herself swapping spit with a gorgeous emerald eyed slave whose thighs she now wished to further part so she could experience the rest of her.

“Enough.  Return to the housework.  You’ll feel back to normal soon enough.”

Jizzyteen knew well enough to follow commands as they were given, no matter how much she felt like a mouthful of pussy might be the order of the day.  Slowly it dawned on her what had been happening as even smoothing down her hair, and unhitching her skirt the unbridled horniness within her failed to subside.  That bastard had been messing with her the whole time.  Clouds began to slowly part inside her mind as she realised how altered her mental state had been, how much he’d driven her to hate poor Kinkytart at the touch of a button.  She looked down at her fingers, still slick with her juices and was disgusted with herself.  She slowly made her way out of the basement not even daring to turn around to apologise to the sobbing figure of Kinkytart who was now hanging from her bindings, slack-limbed and exhausted.  She knew the pain wasn’t going to get any better, and she knew she wasn’t going to feel any less shame for what she’d done.  Her hands shook as she realised what she’d done.  She’d been so busy thinking about how Kinkytart got off on torturing Max’s painsluts that was what she was doing herself.  

How could she ever trust herself or her own feelings again, she thought.  There was no way she could be certain if a feeling was coming from her, or from what he was doing to her.  She shut the door to the basement quietly and looked at the long chain locked around one leg that confined her to the house.  Tears flowed down her face.  She’d known there was no escape, there would never be a fair world for her again but every moment, every action taken against her cemented that.

She took a few minutes there, sat, back against the wall, hating herself.  She knew he might be watching, she didn’t care.  Her face was a mask of misery and pain.  Eventually a shred of self-preservation kicked in.  The list in the kitchen wasn’t getting any shorter.

Eventually she worked down the list until the last few points.  She looked at the clock.  Just half an hour until her master would arrive home.  She was sweaty, filthy, and utterly exhausted.

She read the last few items on the list:

Before the master arrives home you will wash, scent, and make yourself appropriately fuckable.

The Master is to be greeted as “darling” and in a cheery manner.  You will show sufficient interest in his day.

Dinner will be cooked and on the table at the time the master specifies.  A mealtime blowjob will be provided.

A re-run of the morning routine, she thought.  It would take her most of the time before he arrived just to get herself back into a good state again, so she started in earnest.

—

“Honey I’m home!” said Max as he entered the house.

“Hello, darling,” answered Jizzyteen her smile as plastered on as the makeup she was wearing. “How was your day?”

“You know I really think the big project’s really coming on.  We’re working on a new version of one of our more popular designs, The Peg, after a focus group said it should be called The Stapler.  You know I never liked the name but then I just design the things.”

It suddenly occurred to to Jizzyteen she had no idea what Max actually did for work, or why he appeared to be dragging a tightly bound and sullen blonde behind him.  “You know, Darling, I’d love to hear more about what it is you do.” she said, thinking that maybe if she got him talking there might be less rape and torture this evening.

He looked at her, an eyebrow raised.  “You’re interested in what I do at work?”

“Oh yes, I’ve never really known what it is men do in offices all day.” she was hoping an appeal of stupidity and a lack of world knowledge might engage something boastful in him.  Make him try to impress her.

He hung up his coat, and dropped his case in the hall, he offered the leash of the blonde with him to Jizzyteen.  “I’ll explain later, slut.  For now take this piece of fuckmeat downstairs and secure her.  Sluttybottom is to have adequate cum and water, but she is not to be touched until I start work tomorrow.  She’s my little Work From Home fuckslave, aren’t you, Sluttybottom?”

“This cunt will serve your needs fully during permitted hours, master.” she said.  The girl had a worried look and her simple white clothing bore the Quikrape branding.  Suddenly Jizzyteen had an idea of where Max might work.  She’d seen the adverts, every woman had.  They lived in fear of the day a Quikrape machine entered their home to terrorise their very existence.  Most feared was the Night Terror machine, either it sent a woman insane through lack of sleep, or in very rare cases failed to deactivate, and the first sign a master had of a slavegirl in danger was the smell as the high voltage punishment programme cooked them from the inside out.

There was little time for chitchat, and Sluttybottom was secured as instructed, her collar firmly locked into a loop low on the wall by a short chain that wouldn’t allow her to stand up past a crouch.  Sluttybottom brushed aside her strawberry blonde hair and smiled sweetly in thanks as she began to lap up the dish of pig cum, presumably more out of hunger than anything else.  Jizzyteen watched for a second as the girl’s lips dripped the foul stuff back into the bowl.  Her own dinner would include cum from a pig of a different kind.

Turning she looked at Kinkytart.  She was glad Kinkytart hadn’t soiled herself again, it saved her another round of punishment, but she was hanging limply in the restraints now.  Jizzyteen wondered if it was a mercy that unconsciousness had taken her.  It would only be a few hours until the evening beating.  It was probably best she saved her strength for that.

Returning upstairs she almost ran into Max at the top of the steps.  He loomed over her, made her feel small and scared.  There was an evil glint to his eyes.  “Now, slut, you’re going to tell me why you sat here crying instead of working this afternoon.

Her mind raced.  He’d been watching.  “This cunt…was…” she dared look up into his eyes for a second, they drilled down into her.  She could no more lie than she could turn into a bluebird and fly out of the kitchen window.  She sighed.  “…this cunt was disgusted with herself, angry, ashamed.  She had beaten Kinkytart thoroughly, and got off on it.  This cunt knew her thoughts were not her own at the time…but she was still terrified by them.”

A shark’s grin appeared in front of her, his breath was hot and heavy as he closed in over her.  “Oh no, my little honeybunch.  Those thoughts were all yours.  I gave you some adrenaline and made you a bit hornier but everything you thought was your own work entirely.  The entire break room at work was cheering you on as you beat the living daylights out of Kinkytart then and there, and that little fit of terrified tears afterwards?  At least three of the guys at work were so into it their slaves went un-facefucked for several minutes.”

“You…you were…watching me?  With others?”

“Oh yes, you sweet little slut.  Every rub of your clit, every check of how wet you were all caught in glorious 8k and projected on the break room wall.  Do you know one of the freewomen in the office asked for a copy so she could show her boyfriend what a real ass whipping is like?  She’s a strange one, but always good if we need to test any prototypes, she’s certainly game for unique ass-ripping experiences.”

She began to cry again, she felt even more violated than ever.  When things were in the privacy of the home things were okay, but now….now things were different.  Public again.  She looked max in the eyes as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Oh yeah, that’s the stuff.” he said, and pinned her to the wall.  “I love to see some despair, some agony.” He rapidly unzipped himself, and pulling one of her legs around his waist he rapidly entered her and began to fuck her up against the wall in the hallway.  “I want those legs locked around me, whore.”

She did as he asked, and then locked her arms around his neck too, to make it easier for him.

“No, no,” he said, grasping her neck with both hands, “hands by your sides.  Either those legs can grip strong enough to stop you being strangled, or you’re about to choke.” he must have seen the flash of fear in her eyes because suddenly he was fucking her all the harder.  Jizzyteen’s smooth stockings made it hard to get a grip but she tried her hardest as he continued to pound away without even removing her dress.

Against her wishes she was already starting to moan.  She’d fingered herself earlier but that was no replacement for the girthy cock currently exploring her tight teen pussy.  She gasped as he changed angles and did her best to tighten herself as her mother had once guided.

“I definitely underestimated how good this pussy was going to be when I bought you you little slut.  I had planned to beat you senseless until you gave up on life, but honestly your tight little cunt might just upgrade you from pure painslut to the kind of fuckmeat I might actually enjoy owning.”  Her legs slipped a little and she felt her neck stretch in his grip.  She whimpered a little as her breathing became more difficult but now gripped even harder, her fists balled at her sides as her muscles began to ache.  “You want to know what I do?  I design things for Quikrape, so that pathetic masters who can barely control themselves have some hope of controlling their slaves.  Have you seen a single thing in this house designed by QR?  No.  I don’t need them.  I don’t even need those little things roaming around inside you, they’re just for fun.  No, it’s always best to break a cunt’s will the traditional way.  Pain, fear, restraint, guilt, shame…all the ways women are weak.  It’s your kind’s own self-hatred that landed you this lot.”

She could feel his fingers tightening, but she dared not raise her fists against him.  The look in his eye as he talked about the inferiority of women, it terrified her.  He believed it.  The innate worthlessness and replacability of pussy.

“It’s worth it in a way…just to know that my designs go on to torture women around the nation all day and all night every day and every night.  I like to think every slut who suffers in a QR machine is suffering by my hand personally,” he was pumping furiously now, and she couldn’t help but feel excited.  She wanted to breathe hard but the more he talked about pain, suffering, and misery the harder he want, and the more his hands tightened at her neck.  “You don’t know how lucky you are, you little.  You get to suffer personally, and I get to enjoy it as you desperately cling to sanity.”

Whether it was the lack of oxygen, the exhaustion, her own pleasure or all three Jizzyteen’s eyes rolled back into her head, as her neck went weak and lolled.  The burning in her leg muscles finally forced her to let go, leaving her fully suspended by her neck, forced upwards only by Max’s thrusts.  Slowly fading she felt his come deep inside her.  She desperately clung to consciousness in spite of herself, and slowly the pressure on her neck subsided.

Gasping, orgasmic, barely conscious she was lowered to her feet, he throbbing member still deep between her burning thighs.  Desperately she managed to pant out “Thank you, Master” before being allowed to fall to her hands and knees.

“Go and make dinner.  Steak, potatoes, and greens.  I expect it on the table in half an hour, cunt.  I see one cum drop on the floor and it’s an extra 20 lashes…understood.”

“Yes, Master” Jizzyteen said weakly as she made to crawl away.

Suddenly she was hauled to her feet by her braid and found herself on the receiving end of a passionate kiss pressed against the wall.  He pulled back from her after a second, the surprise and confusion of her face almost total.  “You are going to be so fun to torture and fuck, you know that.  I can feel the hate, the fear, everything.  Kinkytart’s past that.  The fire’s beaten out of her.  She’s a fun fuck…but there’s almost no rage or terror left in her.  Maybe she can learn by your example, buy herself a few more weeks…you might want to mention that to her when you’re beating her tomorrow.  Just how little time she has left before she’s just another picture in that photo album.  A cautionary tale to tell me next slave wife.”

Tears found Jizzyteen once more.  He emotions were flying in all directions at once and settled on despair.  He hadn’t even had to play with her brain this time.  Just fuck her, and talk to her.  She’d been given an orgasm, filled with cum, and yet it still felt like she was lesser, slowly losing her mind.

“Oh, honey.” he said, wiping her tears away. “Don’t cry, it’s what you women are made for.  Now you stop your worrying, make my dinner, and get ready under the table for the post-dinner mouthful.”

Brain swirling she shuffled away, dragging her ankle chain behind her to attempt a passable dinner made in the middle of an emotional typhoon that threatened to sweep her off her feet, and leave her to drown in her own despair.