The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

‘PH factor’

MC, M/f, rough, NC

By A. Acer Custos

CHAPTER ONE:

She left the office later than usual that night. As she passed down the concrete ramp to the lower parking level, she didn’t notice the closed circuit camera smashed and hanging by its cables from the ceiling. She didn’t notice the white panel van halfway hidden behind the support pillars. She didn’t notice the man sitting in the van either.

She didn’t notice that the alarm didn’t beep it’s ‘disarm’ code as she approached and got in. Turning the key evoked no response whatsoever. She tried a couple more times and wrinkled her nose in frustration, she was annoyed. New, $70,000 BMW 750i’s are supposed to start up every time. Taking her tiny silver cell phone out of her purse, she called AAA. They said it’d be 30 minutes before someone could get to her. She gave the operator a piece of her mind in response.

A few minutes later, a white panel van with large magnetic stickers on the door reading ‘Steve’s Auto Service’ pulled up near her. A pale complexioned, slightly paunchy man wearing a blue jumpsuit and a black knit watch cap got out of the car. He smiled and walked over.

“Well, it’s about time you got here.” She said, tersely.

“Just got the call, Miss.” He replied.

“It’s Ms. Not Miss, Ms.” She arched an eyebrow.

“Yes, uh.. Ms. Hunicutt?”

“That’s right,” She peered at his jumpsuit. “Don.”

“Problem, Ms Hunicutt?”

She clucked her tongue in annoyance at him, and smiled a tight smile, being patient with the slow-witted help. “Yes Don, that’s right. Can you start it for me? I’ll take it to the dealership tomorrow.”

“Of course, Maam. I’ll just go get my tools.” He turned back to the van.

She grabbed her cell phone from her purse and turned away from him and the van. Scrolling through her messages, she never saw the shadow of his approach as he returned. She had dismissed him from her mind, as if he had never existed.

The rubber mallet connected with the back of her head with a solid, meaty thunk. Her world exploded into a shower of bright hot sparks filled with pain, and then went dark. She slumped to the cold concrete floor, her cell phone skittering away across the parking lot.

He grabbed her by the collar of her expensive Ann Klein jacket and dragged her into the open door of the panel van, her Manolo Blahnik pumps being ruined in the process. He dropped her too heavily into the van, and the back of her head smacked into the floor. A very slow flow of blood pooled under her.

Her Gucci purse lay beside the BMW’s door, yawning it’s contents onto the floor like it had vomited a half digested Bloomingdale’s cosmetic counter. He quickly scooped it and its contents up and into the van. Returning to the car, he opened the hood, reattached the battery wire and the alarm circuit and gently closed the hood. He took a moment to remove any smudge marks from the hood and door with a polishing cloth, and then stood up. He took a last, long look around for any tell-tale evidence... finding none, he went back to the van.

Inside, with slightly trembling hands, ‘Don’ pulled duct tape over her eyes and mouth, leaving only her nose exposed. He took a turn of tape over her bleeding head, and then he pulled her arms behind her back and taped them in place. Quickly exiting the van again, he pulled the magnetic signs off the doors of the van, threw them inside, climbed back inside himself, and threw a large moving blanket over her still form. He stacked a couple of boxes in between her and the door, and then, breath heaving and nervous sweat dripping down into his eyes, he climbed into the drivers seat.

The van slowly made its way out of the parking structure. The night guard at the gate dozed lightly at his post and never noticed the van leave. Turning right onto the main boulevard, the van made its way, proceeding carefully into the night of the city.

* * *

The house sat at the end of a long dirt track off the county road. Like so many other late nineteenth century farm houses, it was white, two story and had a wrap-around porch. Nearby sat a matching three car garage of newer construction. They connected with a breezeway. A couple of hundred yards from the garage sat a large old dairy barn. It was in good shape, but unused. Being a dairy barn, it had a concrete slab foundation.

The van drove slowly up the rutted dirt road and turned, reversing up to the barn. The man got out and opened the barn doors. He got back in and backed the van into the garage. A moment later the large double sliding barn doors were pulled closed. Someone listening closely might have heard a beam drop into place.

He turned the overhead lights on in the barn and slowly backed the van up to the rear wall. Getting out, he walked over to be far back corner and threw open the flap doors covering a stairwell down into a basement under the barn. He returned to the van and opening it, hefted her onto his shoulder and carried her down the stairs.

In the cool of the basement, under the barn, he pulled her up onto a large stainless steel table and rolled her face down onto it. Out came the box cutter knife. He pulled off her scraped shoes. He cut off her ruined nylons and her snagged skirt. He admired the pretty but plain black silk panties, then they too were cut off. He made short work of her jacket and pretty peach blouse, cutting them both up the back and then down the arms. Even though her pretty B cup breasts probably didn’t need a bra, she wore a La Perla black silk bra that matched her panties. He rolled her over on the table and continued. Soon she was as naked as she had come into the world. He strapped her down to the table with nylon tie-wraps and went over to a nearby work bench. He came back with a pair of dog grooming clippers and a razor. He held the clippers to the base of her scalp and began to shave off her beautiful shining black hair. Curl by curl it hit the floor. He followed up the clippers with the razor, using the saddle soap he happened to have handy to lather her head up. He had to stop a couple of times to carefully shave around where her scalp was bleeding from the impact with the van floor.

When that was completed, he admired her smooth bald head. Going back to the workbench, he took out his first aid kit and pondered a moment. He examined the suturing kit carefully, took it over to the table, and opened it. He wished that it came with instructions.

He turned her head to the side and took two turns of the duct tape around her head and the table, taping it in place firmly. He didn’t want her moving when he went to work. She moaned slightly in her unconsciousness at the increased pressure on her head.

He poured an antiseptic solution over his hands and the back of her head. When he put the first stitch in, she grunted and thrashed on the table. He squirted some Bactine on the wound and went back to his stitching. He’d had to learn to do some sewing in the Army once, he thought that came in handy here.

When he was done, he left her on the table and began to clean up. He swept the concrete floor thoroughly, gathered up her shredded clothes, and took them outside to the fire barrel. In they went, along with some kerosene. Once they were burning well, he went back to the basement and used the hose to wash the floor down... the last traces of hair went into the drain. As a finishing touch, he poured the pre-prepared lye solution down the drain to make sure there were no clogs.

Leaving the basement once again, he took the large Shop-Vac to the interior of his van. Before vacuuming, he carefully wiped up the blood with paper towels and cleaned the area with Windex. Then, he did a slow, careful job of cleaning the entire van with the vacuum. He emptied it into the fire barrel, and popped the filter element in as well, just to be safe. Into the barrel went every piece of duct tape he’d used, and every scrap of debris he could find. As a finishing touch, he used the high-pressure spraying machine to really clean the van out. He took a couple of bales of clean hay from the barn and threw them in the van, making sure that straw dust flew around a bit. Then he unlocked the barn, drove the van out, parked it in his garage and closed the doors. It would not be used again soon, it was better to use the Toyota for a while.

He went into the farm house and made himself some lunch. After lunch he took a nap. He smiled in his sleep.

After his nap, he went back to work on her. She was awake slightly, moaning and struggling a little with her head strapped to the table, tilted off to one side. Going over to his work-bench one more time, he took down a Jennings dental retractor and returned to her. He hummed slightly to himself as he pulled the duct tape off her mouth. She only moaned.

He looked at her. “You probably have a concussion. That will make this next bit easier on you, I suppose.”

He inserted the dental retractor and cranked her jaws wide apart, until he could see the strain on her jaw muscles. Reaching in with his surgical pliers, he began to remove her teeth, one at a time. It was hard work, and he was afraid a couple of times that he was going to break her jaw by accident, or that she’d drown in her own blood. He had to change her position a couple of times to avoid that, and it slowed him down. In the end, he got them all out, and was glad that she’d had dental surgery at some time in the past, her wisdom teeth were already gone. It had been hard to concentrate with her screaming that way.

Shaking with fatigue from his effort, he still had to put a couple of stitches into her jaw where the blood refused to stop flowing. After a few minutes of quick work, it seemed to stop. He rolled her face down on the table, put a bucket under her, removed the dental appliance, and let the blood drip into the bucket. He washed the floor clean again, taking his time, using the routine of it to calm his nerves. Taking the bag of teeth, he took it back up into the barn and over to the hydraulic stamping machine. He used the pressing foot to crush the teeth into a pile of calcium fragments, which he then put through a sieve and re-crushed the larger fragments. Everything went into the fire barrel.

He took a few minutes to re-stoke the barrel, turning the ashes and fragments over and over. He added some wood to the fire and banked it up for a long, slow burn. Noticing that it was very late, he went to bed.

The next morning, he rose early and checked on her. He was glad to see that she hadn’t died during the night. Her scalp was beginning to scab up, and there was not much blood in the bucket. She seemed to be somewhat awake. He was happy about that. He took the hose and washed her urine off the table and floor and down the drain. He ratcheted the legs of the table apart, exposing her.

Stripping off his pants and boxers, he rubbed Vaseline over her ass and forced his prick into her ass with a steady, violent shove. She screamed out beneath him. As he fucked her, flecks of blood appeared on his dick. It took him just a few minutes to cum violently up in her guts. He grunted and wiped his dick on her ass. He cleaned himself up, buttoned up, slapped her on the ass one time, and went off to work.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, she was aware only vaguely of an entire world of pain that seemed to hover just outside her awareness. While she knew, distantly, that things were badly wrong, just what was going on, she could not say. Over the course of the day, from time to time she tried to move, struggling against her bonds, but it was futile. Eventually, she slept.

Later, she could hear someone approaching. Still though, nothing connected. Foot steps echoed on concrete. The sound of a zipper. A sudden, horrible burning pain in her ass. Nothing made any sense. She drifted away again.

He returned from work and checked on her. She seemed to be a bit more coherent. He used her ass again, and then laughed a bit as she soiled herself when he finished with her. He hosed her off, hosed off the table, then the floor. Smiling, he went to the house and made himself dinner and watched some TV.

In the middle evening, he came back and raped her ass again. She awoke screaming in the middle of it. Her questions were incoherent, her yelling petered out after a bit.

He sat down near her head on a stool and began to spoon feed her from a plastic tub of unheated chili without beans. After choking on the first few bites, she began to let him feed her. Just as her appetite became ravenous, he stopped. He fed her a sip of water from an athletic bottle and then leaned over her ear.

“Hungry?”

She nodded her head to the best of her ability, and mouthed a quiet “Yes”

“Thirsty?”

“Yues.” She mouthed around her injured jaw.

“If you nod your head again, I’ll fuck your ass again... then I’ll feed you. If you don’t, I’ll leave you this way.”

She shook her head in terror and revulsion.

She heard the scrape of a stool against concrete and the sounds of footsteps retreating. She was alone. Throwing herself as hard as she could against her restraints, she tried to gain some purchase and force herself loose. Nothing gave. After a few minutes of violent struggle, she began to cry silently into the unyielding steel of the table.

The next morning was an exact repeat of the previous. He came out, used her violently, made sure her bonds were tight and in place, and hosed down what needed hosing. Before he left for work, he examined her head wound, and by pressing his thumbs into the pressure points of her jaws, was able to examine her healing mouth. He then gagged her with a ball of cloth stapled to a leather strap to ensure she didn’t choke on it, and left her as he went off to work.

He came back from work that evening, fucked her ass, cleaned things up, and headed up to the house. He watched some TV and listened to the reports of the disappearance of a lawyer from Greensboro. Apparently, a kidnapping was suspected, but no one had heard from the kidnappers yet. He napped a bit.

Later, he went down to the basement under the barn again.

“Okay, it’s your third day. You’re injured, dehydrated, and starved. If you don’t drink something soon, you’ll die. Thats fine by me. I don’t give two shits about you. If you croak, I’ll bury you and move on with my life.”

“Are you clear about this?”

She nodded her head.

“So look. I’m gonna fuck you in the ass no matter what. If you nod your head, you’re asking me to fuck you in the ass, and I will, but I’ll also feed you and give you something to drink. So... want to live?”

There was a long pause. Her mind raced, seeking answers. Slowly, she nodded her head. He laughed at her. “See now... you’re weak. You think you’re strong. You’re wrong. You’re just a cunt. But, you do get to live.”

Tears trickled down her cheeks under the duct-taped blindfold as her fucked her in the ass again. She’d never once in her life had anything, not even a finger, up there, and now it was being used two or three times a day for the pleasure of this man. It hurt so much, so badly, that she could not help screaming out into the gag. Soon, she could feel him shoot his cum into her, and he got up off of her.

The gag came off, and he slowly spoon fed her the cold chili and tepid water from a sport bottle. She ate the entire thing, and drank the bottle dry. She wanted more, but he gagged her mouth closed again.

CHAPTER TWO:

She could feel him cut her bonds loose, and for a brief moment she tried blindly to throw herself off the table, but he caught her, and then slapped her across the face so hard she immediately knew she’d have a black eye. She screamed and crumpled.

He dragged her to her feet and pulled her up against the cold concrete wall of the basement. He pulled her hands up over her head and manacled her in place to some kind of pole. At least her legs were free, she thought. For the first time, she noticed that her scalp was cool. With a shock of recognition, she knew she’d been shaved. She ran her tongue around inside her mouth, trying to get the last of the chili, and then discovered his cruel dentistry. She began to scream incoherently into the gag, shaking with disbelief and fear.

She could hear him pull the chair up close to her.

“You don’t even know who I am, do you?”

She shook her head.

“You destroyed my life. Now I’m destroying yours.”

She mumbled something unclear into the gag.

“My name isn’t Steve or Don. It’s Elliot. Do you know an Elliot?”

She stood still for a long moment.

“Go on, think.. remember. Elliot. Someone whose life you completely destroyed.” He paused. “No? No, probably not. You wouldn’t even know, would you?”

“Couple of years ago, I had a family. Wife and two kids. Her name was Missy. The kids were Chris and Dani. He was twelve, she was nine. We’d been married for fourteen years. She was my college sweetheart.”

“You remember a client of yours? Greenbelt Industries?”

She slowly, hesitantly nodded her head.

“Greenbelt made brake calipers, hydraulic brake calipers... didn’t they?”

She stood rigidly still.

“Except they really didn’t ‘make’ them. Turns out they very quietly imported them from Indonesia. Lower per-unit labor cost. Reduced overhead. Except, you get an occasional bad batch, don’t ya?”

“I did some research. Turns out that some batches had a sixty percent failure rate. Sixty percent. Three hundred and forty two accidents. Three hundred and forty two times that break calipers on trucks failed and caused an accident. Most of them at slow speeds, no big deal. Not like a break pad that fails, when the caliper fails... when these failed, the brakes would not close... no gripping.”

“You’re a good attorney. You get most cases thrown out in local court, the ones that go forward, you make the driver look like he made a mistake.”

“Most of the accidents are minor. Not all. Seven drivers of large trucks are dead, smashed into bridge abutments, thrown from a cab on a curve after a roll-over... seven dead drivers. Of course, you manage to make it seem like it’s their fault. The companies settle out of court.”

“A couple of the accidents are big. Three, four car pile ups.” He paused and drew a ragged breath. “In one case... in one case, and entire family crushed under a truck that was out of control on a downhill grade with failed brakes. A wife and two kids... killed along with the truck driver.”

She shook her head violently back and forth.

“It took me some digging to work it out. Most of two years. Then I finally found out what I needed to know. You’re a clever woman. Do you know a private insurance fraud investigator by the name of James Feldman?”

She stood silent and still.

“Quite a piece of work, that guy. Turns out that he made a lot of money from your firm. How did it work? He’d bribe the wrecking yard and police impound guys, get access to the trucks. Then he’d put pieces of smashed beer and whisky bottles in the truck, soak the fabric in alcohol, take pictures, make quiet accusations to the trucking company... He’d imply the cops were negligent in the investigation. Then, you’d swoop in, pay a tiny settlement fee, and move on.”

“Were you proud of yourself, Paula? Saving your evil fucking scumbag client from the lawsuits? From prosecution... Willing to do anything, bend any rule, break any rule to make more billable hours. What is your rate, sweetheart, $250, $400 an hour?”

“He’s dead, by the way. I shot him three times in the face and buried him in pieces out in Colorado. I took his files... oh yes, he kept files on you... and sent them to the Omaha World-Herald and a couple of regional papers.”

“Right about now, the world is reaching the conclusion that you’re a bad, bad person. That maybe you staged your own kidnapping, just to skip town... They will find additional evidence in your apartment by the way. I managed to get a copy of the lab report you suppressed on the quality tests of those calipers.”

“If they find you, and his evidence of your criminal conspiracy, I’d say you face about fifty felony counts, and possibly two or three homicide investigations... at least abetting.”

“Course, they won’t find you. I’ll keep you ‘safe’.. right here. And if we ever have trouble, you and I... there’s always a nice spot near the dogwoods for you to take a nice long nap under.”

“And your clients? Well, your clients are all going to jail. The CEO will probably fight it for a long time, but I think there’s enough evidence... and if not, I’ll probably just shoot him too. But the people under him are dirty and going away. There’s enough evidence for that.”

“But you... you advised them to cover it up. You advised them to pretend it wasn’t happening. You. You even advised them that they could continue to import the parts. You’re a piece of shit, and indirectly, you killed my wife and kids...”

“Now you’re going to pay for that.”

CHAPTER THREE:

For the next three days, he used her in the morning and just after work. Each time he’d take her down, push her over the table, and rape her ass. He’d beat her soundly if she struggled. He only fed her if she asked to be ass raped.

A week after she’d been taken, he shaved her head again, then he shaved her crotch and her armpits. He was rough and left her with razor burns.

She lived in the dark basement. Hours passed in silence. She tried many time to find some way to get herself loose from the manacles, never succeeding. One day he spoke to her.

“Now the rules change. If I come down here and see that you’ve been struggling, then I beat you. Badly. Very badly. I will hurt you. I’ll break your ribs. If I see no signs of you trying to escape, I won’t hurt you. I’m dusting the pole over your head with sawdust. If your chains move back and forth, with you trying to get loose, I’ll know. Do you understand?”

She nodded in total terror of him. She didn’t see his smile.

“Good cunt. Next change. I remove your gag. This place is very far out in the country. If you scream, I’ll know it. How? An MP3 recorder. 60 hours of recording time. Voice activated. If you scream, yell, do anything, I’ll know. Understand?”

She nodded again. She gasped in fright and relief as the gag came off and he let her down from the horizontal pole.

“What do you want from me?” She sobbed out.

Her world exploded in pain as a hard slap landed across her face. “Call me Sir.”

She gasped again and cried. Fat tears leaked out from under the blindfold. She didn’t do this, she didn’t call a man ‘sir’. He hit her again, harder... then he punched her in the ribs. With a scream, she yelled “SIR!” He paused in his beating.

“I’m doing this to you to turn you into my meat, my fuck meat. If you resist, I’ll kill you, cut you up and bury you with the backhoe. You’re my cunt now. Understand?”

She cried, and he hit her again. “Yes” She screamed. He slapped her again, harder. “Yes, SIRRR!” She yelled.

“Go on, tell me what you are now, cunt.”

“I’m... " She paused and sobbed. “I’m your cuh cuh cunt, your fu... uck... mu muh muhmeat.” A tiny pause, then a hiccup of fear “SIR!”

“Good, I’m glad we understand each other. If you start anything, try to escape, try to do anything but exactly what I want from you... it’ll go very badly. Starting now.” He shoved her over the table. “Now, Paula, beg your owner to fuck your ass... and if I don’t believe you...” He paused.

She gulped and with a quiver in her voice said. “Please.. Sir. Please u.. u... use my ass?”

He laughed. “Not even close to good enough.” She moaned in fear. She heard him moving, then the next thing she knew, he forced her over on her back, bent backwards painfully over the table. He held her in place and then looped a rope over her neck, causing her to gag and choke if she struggled. She could hear him working with something, and then silence.

“Next time, make me believe it.” He said softly, and then from nowhere, horrible pain ripped through her right nipple. She could feel him force some large, sharp thing through her nipple, and then there was a tugging and a twisting.

“Okay, now you have one pierced nipple. We’ll see how this goes, won’t we?”

She gulped and choked, trying to nod her head.

By the end of the next week, her other nipple was pierced, she had four rings through her inner labia, one through her belly button, and one through her nostril. The nostril piercing had hurt so badly she had pissed on herself as he forced the needle through and then widened it.

She grew used to her silent days and her endless evenings of sexual torment. She perfected asking him, begging him, to use her. Some part of her deeply wanted him now... her survival depended on it.

One evening he came down the stairs to the basement, and she moaned for him. “God master, please use me, fuck my ass master, please... I’ve missed you. I really am your fuck-meat, Sir. Oh god.”

He laughed. “Now we can move to the second stage.”

“Sir?”

“Nevermind.” He took off her blindfold for the first time in a month. “Hmmm, some pressure sores there.” She kept her eyes closed.

“Open your eyes, cunt.”

She peered into the half-lit basement, her eyes watering from the unaccustomed light. The man before her was the same one that had come to her car. She’d known that, but now here he was. Somehow, something deeply broken inside her was attached to him... powerfully.

“From now on, this basement is your room. I keep you on a chain during the day, and at night you service me. If you displease me, back into the darkness and back on the pole. You keep the basement clean, tidy. You keep yourself ready for use. Always. You can use that corner with the bucket and hose to clean yourself. You shit down that drain over there and wash up after yourself. You shave yourself... your head, your legs, your cunt, everything... every day.”

“Do you understand me, bitch?” He looked intently at her.

“Yes, master, I understand. I stay on the chain during the day, at night you use me, I stay clean and shaved for you, and I keep this space clean.”

He nodded. “Now, lets just see how your jaw has healed. Open your mouth.”

She opened her mouth for his inspection. After a moment, he smiled in approval. “Good. I’ll start fucking your throat soon. You’ll have a lot to learn I imagine.”

She dropped her head and hot tears of disgrace rolled down her cheeks. “I’ll try to do a good job.... but I’ve never had a cock in my mouth, and I’m afraid.”

“We’ll have plenty of time to train that. Meanwhile, I have things to move, and a new toy to introduce you to. Go to that corner and kneel there facing the wall until I come for you.”

She lurched her way to the corner on uncertain feet, and dropped to her knees a bit too fast, her weak legs almost unable to hold her. She faced the corner silently and waited.

As he boxed up his tools and took them up the stairs, she never once looked around. As he took inventory of anything that could remotely be used to help her escape, she waited patiently. There were no windows into the basement. One stairwell led down. He examined the stairs for loose nails or screws, and replaced them, making sure she could not work a step loose. He examined the door again, carefully looking over the sheet steel he’d bolted in place months ago when beginning to plan this out. He took inventory.

Table, hose, bucket, pole, chains, her. Recorder, locked cabinet, chair. He pondered for a minute. He went up the stairs and came back with a pneumatic hammer and some bolts. He moved the chair over the drain hole and mounted it in place in the concrete. He tested it to make sure it was immovable. He took the tools back upstairs. When he returned, she was still kneeling in the corner, silent. She hadn’t even considered trying to run.

The next morning began for her the same as so many, but once he’d used her, everything shifted. He grabbed her by the neck and led her to the chair, removing her gag as he went. Bending her over, he inserted and then taped large electrified dildos in her ass and pussy, and then he chained her in place. He slid a heavy pair of black goggles that had small LED screens over her eyes, then taped them in place, then he taped earplugs deep into her ears. He took a cable that ran from the goggles and earbuds, and ran it into a box bolted into the north wall. He used a key to open the box, inserted a DVD into something inside, and turned something on.

Her world exploded into light, color and sound. Half heard voices chanted indecipherable things into her mind as swirling colors and elusive patterns raced across her vision. She felt him open her mouth and insert a pill. He stroked her neck like she was a dog... holding her jaw shut, and she swallowed, knowing the penalty for disobedience. Then he was gone. Time passed and she began to lose herself deep into the patterns and voices. Soon, who she was disappeared, striking and fearful hallucinations took hold of her and she slid sideways out of the world of consciousness.

Some number of aeons later, the sounds, voices, colors all quieted into quiescence and she was left in utter darkness, a timeless void outside the world of reason. In this space, God spoke to her.

“Yes. I will be good.” Her voice echoed into the dark of the basement as he sat nearby, whispering into a tiny microphone.

“Yes. I want to be good.”

“Oh yes. Paula wants to be pleasing.”

“I have been chosen. Yes.”

“Paula is for men? What? I am a sex slave? No... no please, no.” He pressed a button and suddenly her body arched up in the bondage, straining against the manacles and chains. She screamed out, a long piercing whining wail as the electrical torment rode through her. For long, horrible seconds it held her, fingers of pure fire racing over and through her, and then it vanished as suddenly as it came.

She screamed and cried into her gag for long minutes. The voice began again.

CHAPTER FOUR:

A monstrous rhythm entered her days. She’d spend her morning being used, then strapped into the chair, fed 1250 mcg. of LSD, and 250 mg. of ecstasy and amphetamines and forced to listen to and watch his programming DVD. The hallucinations were overwhelming, ego and soul shattering, and she had no escape. The programming would go on for hours, alone in the dark basement. Then the voices and their insidious suggestions, commands, comments would start in... just when she was most vulnerable.

She lost her mind.

After a week, she was a mumbling, incoherent wreck. After two weeks, she was nearly vegetative. After three... after three, she had lost all contact with reality.

The seasons changed, and changed again.

He trudged through the light snow out to the barn. Muffled against the crisp winter wind, he smiled to smell the freshness of the morning. The cool morning sun coming across the east side of the creek dappled the snow with twinkles and glimmers of light. He unlocked the padlock on the barn and went inside, where he lowered the bar back down, juggling the newspaper under his arm. He crossed the barn to the back and unlocked the door to the basement. He turned on the light and went down.

At the sudden appearance of the light, his slave arose from her cot gracefully, and kneeled on the floor. She lowered her head to the ground and greeted him.

“Good morning master. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, I did, thank you. And you?”

“Your slave slept well, master.” She turned around on the floor and presented her ass to him. Reaching under her tiny cot, she put a finger-full of Vaseline on her anus, pressed it inside, and then relaxed herself. Like a small mouth, her ass opened for him, ready. “Your slave begs you, begs you... master. Please, please grace me with being used. I know I am unworthy, but I beg you, Sir.”

He walked over to her. She was an extraordinarily obedient girl these days. He lowered his pants and took out his rapidly hardening cock.

Seeing his cock, she moaned and shudder of delight ran through her entire body. She had a tiny orgasm just seeing it. Instantly her pussy was lubricated, so much so that small drops of her arousal began to slowly drip off of her pierced inner labia. Under her breath she whispered. “Please, please, please”

He pressed the tip of his cock to her ass, and she came again, this time harder. As he pressed easily inside her well used, well trained ass, she came again. “Oh master, master, master.... thank you”

He bottomed out in her ass and began a slow and steady rhythm of fucking her. He smiled as she ground her ass on his cock, clenching and unclenching her sphincter on him, for his pleasure.

A few minutes later, holding her by the hips, slamming his rock hard cock deep into her guts, he shuddered in delight and poured his cum up into her. She shrieked in delight, her eyes rolling back in her head, convulsions passing through her small frame. Under her breath, she was whispering. “I am so blessed.. so blessed..”

He held himself still, allowing his erection to subside. After a long moment or two, still deep in her ass, he was only semi-hard. Knowing what was coming, she giggled under him and said. “Oh thank you master for this privilege.”

He relaxed and allowed his morning urine to flood into her. His bladder was full, and it took a long time. She came again while he pissed in her ass. Taking his cock out with a ‘pop’, he backed up.

She clenched her very well trained sphincter shut and whirled around to face him. “Please master, please?”

He smiled. “Fine. Do a good job.”

She buried her face in his crotch, licking and sucking his dick clean of the remnants of their sex. She took her time, making sure to do a complete job. When she finished, she nuzzled her face against his boots, kissing them and crying quietly with delight and satisfaction.

He told her to take care of herself.

She backed up, eyes down, and went across the basement to her fairly recently installed toilet, next to her sink, and sat on the toilet. She voided herself, all the while looking at the floor near his feet, silent, trying to be attentive to any tiny gesture or sign that he might want something.

He crossed to the leather chair he’d brought down some time ago and sat down. He shook out the paper and began reading. She dared to look up a tiny bit, at his feet, and smiled. She was slightly giddy that he was spending time in her presence.

“I thought you’d be interested to know something.”

“Yes, master?”

“Papers say that lawyer, the one who was involved in that trucking company scandal, the brakes... remember me talking to you about her?”

“Yes, master. It remembers. She was a bad woman. She hurt people.”

“Well, seems pretty much like they’ve given up on finding her for now. Though, if they ever did, she’d do a lot of time. A lot.”

The woman smiled at him, quietly wondering if there was a chance she could do anything for him. She crawled across the floor to him and lay curled up at his feet. Maybe he’d think of something.

He looked at her and smiled. “Time to change things up again.”

She looked up as far as his knees in puzzlement.

“Master?”

He stood and walked over to the large, locked cabinet. She’d never seen the interior before, and was somewhat curious. He unlocked it and opened it. There were numerous cardboard boxes inside, but the top shelf was interesting to her. It held a series of wigs on Styrofoam heads. He picked out a bright platinum white wig. The hair was short and curled. He rummaged through a couple of boxes and took some clothes out.

Handing them to her, he told her to get dressed. Looking at them, she began to cry. “Master” She sobbed, “It is sad to wear clothes. Does master not like it naked and ready?”

He slapped her viciously across the mouth. She dropped to the floor and went totally silent for a moment. She spoke again. “Yes master, it was stupid and wrong, wrong to ask about your wishes.”

He took a large exposed blade hunting knife from inside the cabinet. He handed it to her. “Hold that, point first, above your heart.”

She did so.

He looked at her, tilted her head up so that she had to look at him. “When I say so, you’ll drive that knife into your heart, and then turn it.”

She looked at him, love and adoration pooling in her open gaze. “Oh, yes master. Please, can it die for you?”

He rested his hands lightly under hers. “Yes” He said.

Her eyes closed and she took a breath. In the next instant, her arms tightened, attempting to drive the gleaming knife into her chest. His hands tightened around hers, holding them back. He was a strong man, but he had to exert almost all of his strength to stop her from pushing the knife into her chest. She sobbed in frustration and dropped to her knees.

He returned the knife to the cabinet with unsteady hands. “What have I created?” He said to no one in particular.

They left the basement together. He was dressed in his long black coat over a silk shirt with a collar and expensive designer jeans. She wore black sling back pumps with five inch heels, fence-net stockings, a tiny black silk mini skirt over a lace garter belt, a thin white blouse, a heavy leather fetish collar, and the platinum wig. He pulled a wool wrap over her shoulders as they walked to his car.

She held to him fiercely, eyes wide, scared to be outside the basement. Her steady routine was interrupted and she clung to him for guidance. They made their way to his car in the nearby garage. As they approached it, she had a moment of panic, then tottered quickly to the car in her heels, trying fiercely to get the locked door open for him before he arrived. He fingered the fob in his pocket and unlocked it for her. She got it open and kneeled for him. He got in and she ran around to the other side, looking at him through the window before she got in. He nodded, and she opened the door, hesitating.

“Do you actually think I want you in my car, slut?”

“Master?”

He popped the trunk using the button inside the glove compartment. “Get in the trunk.”

She went to the back of the car. The trunk gaped open. The bottom was lined with a checkered dog blanket, and a rope had been fitted to the lid, allowing her to close it from inside. She climbed in and pulled it closed. The light went out. She curled up into a slight fetal position and smiled, glad to be enclosed again. She could hear him close the open door. The car started and she shifted back and forth as it bumped its way along the farm road.

She felt the tires hit solid, smooth pavement and the car headed left. She soon lost all track of the turns he made. She sighed to herself and drowsed, staying just awake enough to be ready when the car stopped.

They traveled for hours. She began to need to pee, but held it, knowing that she’d be beaten badly if she soiled his car. When the car did stop and he popped the trunk, she could see that they were at a gas station. She climbed out of the trunk, under the sodium lights overhead, and looked around. She went to his window.

He smiled. “Fill it with regular.” He handed her a fifty dollar bill and pointed to the cashier. She straightened the wig on her head and tottered over to the window, uncertain in her heels.

The cashier was an older, dark skinned man, perhaps Sikh, perhaps Indian, perhaps not. He observed her approach silently. It was now late afternoon, and there were no other customers. She put the bill in the payment slot. He examined it and pressed the button to talk. “Sorry.” His voice crackled from the speaker. “Twenty or smaller. No change.”

She retrieved the bill and went back to the car where her master was waiting. She kneeled down next to the car door.

“Master, the girl cannot pay. The man says he will not take a large bill. What should it do?”

“Find a way to pay for the gas, or I punish you.”

“Yes Sir.” She walked back to the cashier.

She leaned down to the speaker slot, looking the older man in the eyes. “Sir, he needs gas for his car.”

“No big bills. Company policy.”

“Please?”

“No, so sorry.” His eyes were unreadable.

She leaned forward, looking him in the eyes and smiled a wide, charming smile at him. “May this girl please suck your dick? She swallows.”

A deep crimson blush crept over his face. She smiled at him earnestly and backed up a step. She pulled up her blouse and showed him her pierced nipples. “Or, you could cum on it and it will lick you clean!”

“Whore” He said in a quiet voice.

“Yes. A good one, well trained.” She looked at him.

He made no movement she could see. He looked at her intently. A frown of concern creased her forehead. “Please... please let this whore suck your dick?”

A long moment passed. Suddenly, the quiet was shattered by the shrill buzzing of the door next to him as the electric lock unlatched. She pulled the door open and went inside. She walked past the rows of chips and sodas, and crawled under the gap in the counter.

The attendant stood rigid, staring out at the service islands, not looking at her. A light sheen of sweat had formed on his upper lip. He didn’t look at her.

She crawled over to him and kissed his loafers. Sitting back on her haunches, she began to carefully undo his belt and unzip his pants. Small, indecipherable noises came from him. One of his legs had a slight tremble to it. She stroked his leg as she lowered his pants, trying to reassure him.

She opened the fly to his boxers and took out his dick. It was of normal length, but was as hard as any she had ever seen. A slight sheen glistened on the tip of it, and her nose was filled with the smell of him. Male, aroused, nervous. She could feel her cunt drip with desire under her skirt.

She took her mail-order dentures out and set them on the floor next to her, on top of a small stack of white pastry bags. He wasn’t looking down at her, so he didn’t see this happen.

The next thing he knew, a soft, warm, wet tunnel of suction engulfed his cock and took him down to the root. She buried her nose in his belly, wrapped her hands around his butt, and began to use his dick to fuck her mouth. She stroked his dick out, licked around the head, rubbed it over her face, reveling in the sheer hedonistic delight she felt when being used to her purpose in life, and then gulped him back down her throat.

In and out she sucked him, tickling and stroking his testicles with one hand and lightly pressing on his puckered anus with the forefinger of her other hand. Her eyes were closed, totally engrossed in her task.

She felt one of his hands descend to the top of her head. Deep inside her, fulfillment awoke. She orgasmed.

Soon, a second hand was on her head, and she could feel the service station attendant begin to guide her head back and forth. She was happy, deeply happy to let him show her what was pleasing. She could feel his hard cock slide back against her throat, and each time, almost swallowing, she took him all the way down.

He moaned. Hearing the sounds of pleasure from him, she picked up her pace. Within seconds, she could feel his hot cock pulse it’s load of precious seed down her unworthy throat. She forced her head as far into his crotch as possible and cried in relief and joy that her throat was once again blessed with sperm. Warm tears trickled on his thighs. She held herself there, swallowing against his cock, for as long as she could, almost meditating.

He pushed her away. She bent to his shoes again and kissed them.

“Whore. Go.” She heard from above her. She smiled and replaced her teeth. She crawled out from under the counter and looked towards him. “Regular please.” She held out the fifty. He took it and pressed a button on the console in front of him.

She left the warmth of the cubicle, the door banging closed behind her. Returning to the car, she pumped the gas as instructed by her master. When she was done, she got her master’s change from the coldly distant cashier and returned to the car.

Her master rolled his window down slightly. “Trunk.”

She stepped to the rear of the car again and gladly crawled in. She was happy and smiling as she pulled the trunk shut that she had been able to make things at the gas station go so well.

CHAPTER FIVE:

He pulled back out onto the highway and drove. A long time passed while she was in the trunk. She used the time thinking of how she could ask her owner to leash her while she was in the trunk. She could remember seeing dogs on leashes in the back of pickups, and she thought that looked nice. She whispered out loud, but in a very small voice so her owner wouldn’t be disturbed. “It thinks the dogs would feel taken care of, cherished.” She snuggled into the dog blanket and made small whimpering noises with a smile.

Using a quiet farm road, the car approached a cemetery. He’d done his research carefully and picked a state where the birth and death records were still not automated. He stopped outside the cemetery and walked in. She stayed in the trunk. He walked along the grave stones until he found one that was about right. He went back to the car. It was a county cemetery. Aside from the chain link fencing, it was alone out here in the open plains. There were no cars in the distance, and he could hear the rustle of wind over the stones. He walked back to the car and sat on the hood for a moment, thinking. He looked down at his feet for a moment or two and then back up at the lonely countryside. He stood and went to the drivers side and opened the door. Leaning in, he opened the glove box and took out a blued-steel Colt 10mm semi-automatic pistol. He checked the magazine, and then chambered a round. All he had to do was pull the trigger and it would fire. He put it in his waist band and pulled his coat down over it.

He went to the trunk and popped it open. Inside, the girl was sleeping, a smile on her face. She awoke nearly instantly and beamed at him. “Yes, Master?”

“Get out and follow me.”

She crawled out of the trunk, trying to balance on her heels, while trying to uncramp from the ride. He turned from her and walked into the cemetery. She stretched and then hurried to follow him in.

He walked among the grave stones until he reached the one he’d selected earlier. “Kneel here.”

She brushed away the debris and kneeled on the cold ground. The wind cut through her and she shivered.

“Read it out loud”

“Yes Master.”

Cicily Benford

1969—1971

At Home With Jesus

He took the pistol out and placed it at the base of her neck. “Tonight, Paula Hunicutt dies.”

She waited in silence.

“I’m giving you a choice.”

His voice shook with repressed emotion. “You took everything from me, everything. Everything I ever wanted, everything I ever valued. I loved my wife more than anyone, and I wanted to die. You took that from me.” Tears drained off his face in the slight wind. His hand trembled slightly.

“Either I kill you here and now, Paula. Either I put a bullet in your head, here. Either I do that, or ... or you become Cicily Benford. Forever. Cicily the slave. Cicily the complete and total slut-whore. Cicily is property. Cicily is owned. You get to choose.”

“Yeah. Bitch. You choose.” Tears streamed down his face and he wept. Sobs racked him. He dropped the gun and crouched to his knees.

She turned toward him and picked up the gun. His hand was over his face and he didn’t notice. She looked it over curiously.

“Master.” She paused. “Master...”

He looked up. She carefully uncocked the gun and put it in his hand.

“Master... Paula died a long time ago. I killed Paula. Paula fought you, hated you, wanted to kill you. Later, Paula wanted to die. Either Paula had to die or I had to die. So, I killed Paula.”

“What are you talking about?” He asked.

“Master, I’ve been waiting to know what my name is. I’ve been waiting and waiting for you. I killed Paula for you Master. I choked her life out in the chair, and I killed her for you. I knew you wanted me, I knew you wanted me to live, to live for you, to be your girl, your property...”

“I tore her apart from inside. She was weak. Remember how you told her that? That she was weak? You were right. You’re always right. Once our time in the chair started, I began to live. She hated me, despised me. I was everything she wasn’t. She thought she was strong... she was just brittle. She thought sex was about power. I know that sex is about yielding. She thought she was stronger than you, I knew that I was weaker. So, I killed her.”

She rubbed her hand along the grave stone. “Now I know who I am. I’m Cicily. I’m your girl. I’m yours. I used to be an it. Not a girl, not anything, an it. Now I know. I’m Cicily. I’m yours.”

She burst into sobbing tears and grabbed his feet. She kissed his shoes furiously. ?gPlease, please, please, please let me be yours. Please! PLEASE! It’s all I want. I just want to be OWNED.?h

The old man opened the county clerks office at nine each morning like clockwork. That morning there were a couple of city people waiting outside. He ushered them in from the cold and offered them coffee.

The man asked for a notarized copy of a birth certificate, for a child that died in 1971. The woman was oddly still, happy and smiling, but still and quiet. He made them the copy and they said their thanks and vanished.

He promptly forgot about them and went back to his filing.

The flash went off at the drivers registration department, blinding her for a moment. She blinked, took the Polaroid and moved to the next booth, to wait in line again. Then, it was done. Social Security card applied for, drivers license on the way, Cicily was reborn.

CHAPTER SIX:

The old farmhouse was quiet in the early morning as Cicily awoke. She rolled out from under her blanket on the floor and crouched on the balls of her feet to look over and the bed and make sure her master still slept. Reassured, she folded her blanket and slid it under the old brass bed he slept on.

She rose softly to her feet and padded quietly out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. She closed the door softly in the darkness before turning on the light. She shrugged off her thin silk camisole and hung it from a hook on the door.

She ran the shower warm and then stepped in. Cicily reached up to the overhead shower head and unhooked the bidet nozzle. Instead of a simple shower head coming out of the wall, her master had attached a long flexible hose between the the nozzle and the wall. At the end of the flexible hose was a shiny stainless steel insertable probe. Cicily lightly lubed the probe with soap and pushed it into her ass. Then she reached up and flipped a small toggle that ran the water down the hose instead of the shower nozzle. The warm water flooded her. After a moment, she flipped the toggle back. She lathered herself all over, from bare scalp to feet and rinsed. Then she re-lathered and shaved her head, legs, pussy and ass.

Hopping out of the shower and flipping a towel over herself, she dried off and then sat on the toilet. Once she was finished there, she used a small finger-full of petrolatum to grease her anus and spent a moment practicing opening and closing her ass around her finger.

She wiped the moist fog off the mirror and spent a moment brushing her dentures. She ran a finger over her soft gums and was pleased to know that her mouth was a source of pleasure for him. She put the false teeth back in and smiled at herself in the mirror. She applied lipstick quickly and then a hint of rouge. A tiny bit of eyeliner was last.

She examined her gleaming welded-shut stainless steel collar in the mirror and wiped the moisture off of it. She made sure that the tag that read “Cicily” hung just right.

Once satisfied that she was available for her purpose in life, she finished drying herself, tidied up the bathroom and turned the light back off.

She left the bathroom on light feet, hanging up her camisole and putting on a small robe instead. She made her way down the worn old stairs to the farm kitchen. The cupped yellow pine boards were warm under her bare feet as she started the pellet stove to warm the room.

She made coffee from freshly ground beans she took from the freezer, and while the coffee started to brew, she made a quick batch of scrambled eggs and two strips of bacon. She cut and segmented a grapefruit and dusted a tiny bit of powdered sugar over the top of it. Putting all that on a lacquered tray, she then opened a cupboard, took out her large stainless steel dog bowl and carefully emptied a can of premium grade dog food into it. On top went a tiny sprig of garnish.

Cicily spent a fast minute tidying up and then made her way up the old stairs again. She set the tray on the bedside table and set the dog bowl on the floor. She took out her dentures and set them next to the bowl.

Rocking back up on her heels, she pulled up the bed covers slightly and put her head under. Reaching softly, she found her owners morning erection and slipped it into her warm wet mouth. Ever so lightly, she began to stroke his chest and back as she started to suck on him.

She closed her eyes in bliss and sank his hard warmth deeper into her mouth. She slid one hand down to caress his balls. Lightly, she began to massage his dick with her soft gums as she ran him in and out of her mouth. She started a steady rhythm, long practiced, stroking him in and out as she sucked on him.

Above her, he groaned in pleasure and one of his hands came down on her head. She worked on him steadily, building the rhythm that she knew he liked from her. He pushed down on her head slightly, and she knew that was her cue. Swallowing slightly, she drew him down her throat until his pubic hair was crushed in her nose. She slid her warm, wet tongue out of her mouth and began to lightly lap at his scrotum.

The pressure from his hand on her bald head became stronger, and she could feel his cock swell in her throat as his testicles rose up in his sack. Suddenly, a splash of warmth was in her throat and she swallowed around his dick, knowing that he liked the sensation as he orgasmed.

She kept her head there, lightly bobbing back and forth on his dick until he pushed her back slightly, indicating that her throat was not needed any longer. She buried her head in his crotch and licked at him, cleaning him.

He threw the covers back and swung his legs down. She sat back and put the tray on his lap, looking down at the floor as she did so. Then she slid his slippers on his feet. She rested lightly on her heels, waiting.

He ate. After a moment he said. “Go ahead.”

She turned and leaned over and began to eat her breakfast along with him.