tagNonConsent/ReluctanceSlave Academy Ch. 03

Slave Academy Ch. 03

byHippieSlut©

I go to sleep in my cage that night, my mind and body in a turmoil. On the one hand, I want desperately to be fucked some more, on the other I'm panicking and trying to figure out a way to escape. It finally has started to sink in, what has happened to me, what's being done to me, and though at first I found it arousing, now I just want to get out of here and run far, far away, back to my old life.

But would anyone even believe me, if I even managed to get away? Would anyone help me? I think I was too stunned up till now to really comprehend the full situation, and I obeyed orders out of survival instinct.

But now, well fucked, weary but well fed, it's finally dawned on me. I've been kidnapped. I've been collared and shackled and branded and pierced. I've been raped in my cunt and my ass and my mouth. I've been used by over a dozen men. I've been whipped and caged. I'm being trained as a slave and I'm going to be sold at auction. Unless I do something about it, my life as I knew it is over. Escape is my only chance. These men will be ruthless with a slave who tries and fails, I'm sure of that. So I have to succeed.

I lie awake a long time, considering. I won't have a chance unless they take me outside, of course, and I wonder how likely that is to happen. Maybe later in my training, they might let me out in the sun to exercise...but Master Marco said that the nearest house was almost five miles away. A long way to run naked. And there are guards, and dogs... They might take me out in public, to shops or someplace, as part of the instruction: if my future master ever wishes me to accompany him out in public, I will need to know how to behave so as not to arouse suspicion. Maybe that might be my chance, if they do that...

I fall asleep finally, still contemplating possible strategies for escape...and in my dreams I'm free again...

Again in the night, a trainer comes in and mounts me in the dark. I should be a bit better accustomed to this by now, but I've been dreaming of freedom and he takes me, literally, by surprise. Suddenly furious, I fight back with all my strength, and I hear him laugh.

"That's the spirit, little slut! It won't do you any good, but fight all you want. In the end, you'll be well broken, just like they all are."

He seems to want to overpower me by his own strength alone, as he doesn't hook my shackles to any of the chains. Instead, he forces his knee between my thighs and pushes them open, while pinning my wrists over my head with one hand. I twist and heave under him, trying to throw him off me, but with his other hand he teases my pussy and clit, and then guides his hard cock to the entrance of my cunt.

I'm not wet yet, and it hurts as he pushes into me, the head of his cock pulling painfully at my dry cunt lips then popping inside me, but he takes his time, a half inch at each slow grind of his hips. Finally he's all the way in, deep and full, enjoying me squirming against him futilely, and he lays all his weight on me, pushing my legs wider open with his own, to get full access to me.

"You're just wasting your energy, slut," he says, holding me still under him with his full weight, beginning to slowly thrust and pull out, then thrust in again. "But it feels good to have you fight me. There's a good little animal...that's right, struggle all you want. It just turns me on even more."

With horror I realize that my vain struggles are turning me on too, big time; I'm dripping wet. He's got me impaled on his cock, right up to his balls pressing against my smooth lips, my thighs spread wide by him, and he holds me there a while, to let me realize how helpless I am. Then as he starts to slowly thrust into me again, deep and smooth, not pulling out or back, but just driving forward to fill my cunt with his cock, my hips start rising to meet his motion, my cunt walls tightening around his thick member.

He laughs again. "Come on, slut, move it faster... you're one hot piece of ass, all right...that's it..."

I moan helplessly as I feel myself starting to come. My clit is on fire, and he increases his pace, staying as deep as he can in me as I buck and arch under him, locked to him. Then he scoops me up, both his arms under me, and my own arms lock across his muscled back as he sinks his teeth into my neck.

He plunges as deep into me as he can get with each push of his hips; I'm wild for him by now, clutching at his driving ass to push him further in. We rock together for a dozen more thrusts, faster, more urgent, then I scream as I'm flooded by his hot come and my own overpowering climax. He pushes into me as hard and as far as he can, holds me motionless until he's pumped himself dry, then relaxes on top of me. I'm still gasping for breath, and my cunt is still throbbing.

That's one of my favorite parts of fucking. I love it all, of course, but when the man and I have both come really hard, I love it when he stays in me and on me for a few moments. It makes me feel totally female. Not feminine. Not womanly. Female. Big difference.

There's a reason why female orgasms are so exhausting that the helpless girl can't move after her user makes her come: it keeps her from running away, so that the man can fuck her again and again. Or so other men can use her, if they want to and if he lets them. I've learned that over the past few days.

I lie panting under him, his weight on me, my breathing and heart rate getting calm again, and finally he pulls out of me, flips me onto my belly and slaps me on the ass. "Nice job, slut." I can hardly move below the waist, so when he starts slicking up my asshole with our juices, I don't even fight back. He pins my wrists behind me, pulls my waist chain to get my ass in the air, and shoves a pillow under me.

I lie there waiting for him to shove his cock in, but instead he starts caressing and licking my ass, his fingers working my cunt and clit. "Just think, animal, only a day ago no man had ever done anything like this to you."

"No, master."

"And do you like it?"

"Does it matter?"

He laughs and I feel the head of his magnificent cock poking at my asshole; I lift my hips a little higher, presenting to him like the animal he calls me. "Not a bit. You'll be trained to perform perfectly whether you enjoy it or not, of course. You'll undoubtedly enjoy it, if I'm any judge of fuckmeat. But really you'll have no choice. You'll be used and you'll respond; it's the way women are made. But I think you enjoy it just fine, don't you, having men use you like the little fucktoy you are, right?"

"...Yes!"

"Yes what?" He slams his cock deep into my asshole, and I scream as he buries himself in me up to his balls.

"Yes, master!"

His fingers are moving deep inside my now-dripping cunt and his arms are holding me completely motionless as he rides my ass, and I feel my orgasm beginning to build again. I seem to have no control over coming: it's all according to what the man wants. Any man. I'm realizing that I'm being conditioned to respond to the male will, and I tense up, remembering my own will—my plan to escape—and I lie motionless, refusing to cooperate.

He seems to sense this, because suddenly he wraps a leather strap around my collared throat and pulls back. "This is how masters control bitches, little slut! Bitches that they're fucking like animals."

He fastens the end of the strap around my wrists and I'm helpless, hands bound and his cock deep in my ass, while he now has both hands free to maul me mercilessly. He cups my breasts and kneads them hard, then one hand goes back down to my swollen clit while the other plays with my nose ring.

"You really are just livestock now...you've even got a ring in your nose, like a pig, like a cow...you're collared like a dog and branded like a mare... But you're a prime piece of twat, honey...pretty soon you'll have no will of your own left, nothing but the will to obey your masters. You're a slave now; get used to it."

I'm practically fainting now, as the strap alternately chokes me then allows me a gasp for breath. His expert fingers, working my clit hard, bring me off screaming again and his cock explodes in my ass at the same time. I collapse, and he pulls out of me. He leaves me with my hands bound behind me, and locks the cage door after him. I lie there, exhausted, a slave who's been well used by a master, still gasping for breath.

It's another lesson. Men now control me, and there's nothing I can do about it. But as I lie there, that little spark of rebellion rises up again. I'm going to do what I have to, to survive, but I'm also going to resist just as hard as I can—and I'm going to get away. Master Marco said no slave ever had and I wouldn't be the one to succeed. Well, maybe we'll just have to see about that...

The next morning, I'm wakened by a trainer I haven't seen before, who tells me his name is Master Joss. He unties my hands and removes the strap from around my neck, and helps me sit up. He hooks his fingers in my collar and leads me to the bathroom, where I clean myself up. When I come out and go to my knees in front of him, there's a tray of breakfast on the floor for me. I am so hungry, but I know to wait for permission to eat.

"I hear you had a busy night, slut," he says, smiling, pleased with my obedience. He gestures me to eat.

"Yes, master; thank you, master," I answer him, and start devouring the hot food.

"Today we start your training in service. Your primary function as your owner's slave of course is pleasuring him sexually, and you have a good start on that. But there's a lot more for you to learn."

He's right about that. That morning I'm led to a large, sunny training room, equipped with all sorts of furniture: low chairs, upholstered chairs, dining tables, tables low to the floor, cushions. I begin to learn how to serve properly at all these places: a snack, a drink, a full meal, for one or two or a dozen.

I'm taught to lean alluringly as I hold trays with food or drinks, to kneel by a master's chair and offer him refreshment, to brush his arm or head with my breasts. I'm there to serve, however he wants me: I practice over and over, until I can perform the motions smoothly and gracefully. A break for lunch, and the afternoon is devoted to how a slave approaches her master.

"Some masters like slaves on their bellies, some want them on hands and knees, some require them to kneel and await orders. It all depends. You have to learn it all, and then the man who buys you will instruct you as to his own wishes."

This afternoon, I'm in a small teaching room; there's a padded post in the center of the room, which I am ordered to approach as I would a man. I'm being instructed by the first woman trainer I've met so far, Mistress Zara. She's tall and dark-haired, with strong eyebrows and jaw. Not one to play games with or try to disobey. Like all the other trainers, she carries a whip fastened to her belt. She rests one hand on it as she speaks.

"You will obey me, slut, or you'll be punished. Now, tell me, what do you want right this minute?"

I hesitate, and she frowns. "—Mistress, I want a man to fuck me."

She smiles. "Now that wasn't so difficult to say, was it. Of course you want a man to fuck you! You're learning that you're slave meat. You've been getting used to being used the past two days and nights; you like the feeling of a cock in your cunt and your ass. Am I right?"

I lower my head in shame. "Yes, Mistress."

"You have nothing to be ashamed of. You are simply what you are: a lovely girl who's being trained to be a man's perfect slave and hot enjoyment. You haven't been fucked at all yet today, have you?"

"No, Mistress."

"Which is how you learn that you exist for a man's pleasure, not he for yours. You might be used ten times a day, or not for a month. You must learn to have no expectations except what happens to you and what you are commanded. That's all that concerns you, all you should be thinking about: to be ready to obey a man's will. You're going to be sold soon, and it's my business to make sure you're a good product and advertisement for this place when you are. Your will is already breaking, I can see it; you're a natural slave, and you enjoy the feeling of being mastered and owned and commanded. But you also feel that you owe it to your self-respect to resist, to fight back. You'll stop thinking like that very soon now. But that resistance is the mark of a superb slave in the making. In the end, men will impose their mastery on you, as they've branded you and collared you and pierced you, but you'll impose slave obedience on yourself."

I look up, unable to stop myself. "You're very kind, Mistress."

She laughs. "When kindness is the way to ensure cooperation. When it isn't...well, you'll learn that too, I'm sure. All slaves do, sooner or later. Now, stand up. Address yourself to the post. Show me how you seduce a master who's not quite in the mood for you yet and needs to be persuaded."

I approach the post, twining one leg around it, pushing my naked body into it, rubbing up against it, caressing it. Then I slip down it, to crouch at the base, kissing and licking in total submission.

"Not bad. Let's see how you do with a real man."

She presses a bell, and a few minutes later a man comes into the room: tall, well muscled, wearing a slave tunic open at the chest; it's short enough to show glimpses of his cock and balls, which seem prodigious. Like me, he is collared, branded and wears shackles at wrists and ankles.

"This is one of our male training slaves," says Mistress Zara. "He's being trained to please a woman buyer, so this is a lesson for him as well as for you."

He stands there as stiff as the post; I am to get him even stiffer, according to my instructress's command, and it doesn't take long at all. I twine myself around him, my hands moving down his front to his cock, around to his iron-hard ass, slipping inside the front-slit tunic to caress his chest. He is ordered not to move, not to help me. I kiss his chest, then go gracefully to my knees in front of him and lift the edge of his tunic.

He moans as my fingers wrap around his hardness. I open my mouth for him and take his cock in my mouth and begin to gently suck it. It's already fully erect, huge and hard. My tongue flicks against the hole at its tip, and my lips nibble up and down his shaft. He's circumcised—not all the men who've used me here are—and my tongue and lips circle the ridge of flesh ringing the head of his dick. He begins thrusting into my mouth as I lick and suck him, and at Mistress Zara's order he holds my head tight against him with both hands wound into my long hair.

I feel him sliding down my throat, slowly, carefully, so I don't gag on his length and massive width. Finally his balls are up against my face, right against my nose ring, and he thrusts down my throat with long, slow, steady strokes until he comes, by the instructress's permission, unloading down my throat. He pulls out, and I am ordered to clean him off with my tongue and get him hard again, which doesn't take long.

Mistress Zara is pleased with us both, and orders me to the floor on my back and allows him to use my cunt, which he does eagerly and very forcefully, and I come several times under him.

Finally we're both exhausted, and with our mistress's praise we're both led back to our cages. Maybe I'll see him again, I think; maybe he'll fuck me again. I'd like to ride him, me on top, leaning forward, moving up and down on his hard cock as he pushes up into me from underneath...anyway, it was a nice reward for both of us.

My chance for escape comes sooner than I expect. Ten days after my capture, Master Marco puts me on a leash and takes me outside for some time in the sun. It's a beautiful warm day, with a cool breeze, so he gives me the first clothing I've been permitted: a short soft tunic, front-slit to my navel, cut high on both sides to barely cover my ass and smooth mound.

We walk for a while through the grounds, which I've never even seen before. It looks like a college campus, rolling hills and woods all around, and he tells me a little about its history.

We stop every now and then for Master Marco to greet other trainers, and, obedient to my instruction, I kneel whenever he stops, the rest of the time heeling him behind his left side, or walking in front at his command so he can criticize and improve my movement. At last we stop under a tree. He smiles and gestures to the deep grass.

"Sit, little slut." This is a great privilege, to be allowed to sit in a master's presence; usually slaves must kneel. I go gracefully to a seated position, careful to keep good posture. Master Marco smiles again and ruffles my hair, then begins idly playing with my cunt rings.

"You've come along nicely, pretty animal. We expected you to, of course, but you're doing very well."

"Thank you, master." I feel a rush of pride at his words: he's the slavemaster, after all, and for him to praise me so is a great thing. I feel a rush of desire at his touch, too, and my pussy is already dripping; he notices this, and laughs, moving his finger inside my slit. I can tell he has no intent to use me now, though; he's just casually fondling me, the way a man would do with a dog or cat sitting beside him.

"We'll start putting you in classes with other slaves in training tomorrow. You'll need to know how to get along with other slave girls if your future master owns more girls than just you. Also I want to start training you to pleasure women as well as men. We have many more male than female clients, but you need to know all forms of submission; your master might have a wife or a companion or another slave girl he'd like to see you with, so you'll be trained to please females. I'm very pleased with you: you're eager and you're hot, and you show good submission and obedience. We still haven't decided how you'll be sold, privately to a client's wish list or publicly at auction. But there's still time."

We sit there for a while in the warm sun and wind. Soon I see that Master Marco has fallen asleep. Could this be a test? Or my chance to escape? The woods are only a hundred feet away... I move around a little, even, darinly, touch his cock, but he doesn't stir. Asleep, then. Carefully I slip the leash out of his fingers, gather it up and tuck it into my waist chain.

Okay, then. This is it. I take a deep breath, look around. No other trainers in sight. Standing up, I move carefully away from the sleeping slavemaster, then I bolt like a racehorse for the trees, heading through the woods alongside the road that runs in from the highway. I have a long way to run, but exercise and diet have worked on me over the past three weeks, and my energy level is high. If only I can get out to the main road...there might be a passing car whose driver would help me...

I hear no sound of pursuit as I race for the road, nothing except the sound of my bare feet on fallen leaves. I run hard, not daring to look back...

to be continued, if masters and mistresses wish...

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