Bought or Rescued? Pt. 06

Author's note: I wrote this series after reading stories about the fantasy world of legal slavery. I borrowed many elements from those stories but avoided any reuse of people, places, or company names.

Trigger warning: this story is non-consensual. In line with Literotica policy, the victim who's violated gets some enjoyment from it. If this upsets you, please do not read it and look elsewhere for erotica.

Everyone engaged in sexual activity is over 18.

***

Rachel:

A few days later, Erin came back to finish telling me her story and brought her inamorata, Beatrix, with her. I had a bottle of Erin's favourite Viognier chilled and opened. Between us, we finished the bottle before Erin resumed telling me her story.

Erin:

I was far too tired on Sunday night to want to go back to my kennel and reheat an uninspired frozen dinner. I headed to the hospital cafeteria and got a bowl of gumbo and rice. There were plenty of empty tables, so I could sit alone quietly with my thoughts.

I pondered how my life had gotten this screwed up when I heard a tray set down next to me. Looking up, I saw it was Daniel, who had been a Resident Paediatric Cardiologist at the same time as me. I'd brushed his ever-hopeful ass off once a month for four years because, as a Resident, I had zero time for dating nor the energy for sex. I also hadn't expected to be here after my Residency.

Great to see you, Erin; I hope you haven't been avoiding me? I rolled my eyes at him but knew he wouldn't take the hint. So, you always told me you wouldn't date as a Resident, but now you're an Attending, I'd like to ask you out on a dinner date. You have to admit I've been very patient, and I know you want me, so you owe me a yes.

His cock-sure confidence was amusing; it probably worked well on that small subset of nurses who chose to be nurses solely to look for a physician to marry. I might even have had a one-night stand with him if I hadn't been a slave. I thought rapidly about the best way to shut him down and stop him from asking me out continually over the next four years.

"Sorry, Daniel, as soon as I'd taken my boards, I hooked up with an old college girlfriend, and we're an item now. You will never compete with a cute girl for great sex." This was a lie, but as it went, it was a white lie. Beatrix was coming over so I could eat her out again.

"Come on, Erin, you can't know that. Give me one night to prove my skills, and I promise to wow you in bed."

"Daniel, no, I am in a relationship. My girlfriend is coming for a sleepover next weekend. You need to give up and look elsewhere for a new flame."

"I think you're making her up just to get rid of me. Who is she?"

I sighed; he was becoming a pest. "My significant other's name is Dr Beatrix Chandler. She's a D.V.M. at the Broken Arrow Slave Processing Centre. She was in my sorority at Temple. Daniel, I'm serious; you need to drop this. It is never going to happen."

He grumbled for a while, then changed the topic to something safer.

***

Monday brought week three of being a physician-whore-slave for the C-suite at my hospital. Tonight, was the C.F.O., Derrick Kushner. He had ticked the enema required box on the booking form, and he was the one who Rosita and Jean had warned me wanted to make my sexual service more demanding.

While Matt had still been my P.C.P., he had given me a prescription for Lorazepam for anxiety from my enslavement. Tonight, I took one before starting my shower and enema. My nerves were all over the place, and I was truly fearful for the first time. This time I put the buttplug in ready.

I was waiting, slave-naked and kneeling by the door, when Derrick let himself in with his keycard.

Before I could even greet him, he yelled, "Slut! Prone now. Spread your ass cheeks and show me dirty hole."

I lay face down and pulled my ass cheeks as far apart as possible. How the hell had I fallen this low? I was a board-certified physician holding her butt cheeks open for another employee to humiliate me by making it clear he intended to brutally ravish my anus before the hour was up.

"Kiss my shoes."

I crawled forward, trembling, and kissed the toes on both shoes.

"Where is the box of toys?"

I told him it was in my closet and clenched my thighs to avoid the sudden flood of juices making the carpet beneath me wet.

"In future, you useless slut, you will have that box out ready for every visit. You will get a real thrashing tonight as punishment for not being ready for your Master. Lie over the back of your bed, arms out sideways."

I did so; he tied my arms to the rings on the side of my bed. He tied my feet spread wide to rings on the bottom of the bedposts. He put the posture collar on to stop me from looking back to see what he was doing.

"I am not yet allowed to take you and the slave nurse we just purchased at auction to my BDSM club, but I can damn well give you a BDSM night here in your inappropriately nice kennel. No slut should live in this kind of luxury."

"You are in for a treat tonight, slut. I brought my favourite signal whip from the club. I've made lots of nasty little sluts scream in terror with this. I am not going to gag you, as the sound of a girl screaming is what turns me on. The thought of making one of our young female physicians scream is too delicious for words."

He cracked the whip in the air several times before bringing it to my lips and ordering me to kiss it. I did without understanding why. He walked behind me and fingered me. I had lubed up before he came. Fear had already made me wet on top of that.

"Wet and slick as an otter; I guess you really are quite the excited little submissive, aren't you?"

I couldn't see what he did, but it felt like he curled up the end of the whip, pushed it into my pussy, and let it sit there for a while.

"Slut, do you know why we wet the end of the whip?"

"No, Master, I'm sorry, I know nothing about whipping."

"Good. I have four years to educate you about the different kinds of impact play and the exquisite pain I can inflict on you. A dry whip has some air in the leather, which is compressible; it blunts the impact."

"Water is incompressible, so when the end of the whip is wet, it transmits the full force of the leather as it cracks the speed of sound. It will bite deeper into that pale and so-far-unblemished skin of yours. I think you'll love knowing it was your own aroused pussy-juice that made it hurt so much. Your pain will be directly caused by the fact you are a slut and love being humiliated and used."

He yanked the whip out of my pussy, and cracked it through the air once more.

"Trust me, after four years of slave BDSM with a sadist like me, your soul will carry some scars for life."

A line of fire exploded diagonally across the top of my butt. I was determined not to give him the satisfaction of screaming and dug my nails hard into the bed.

Lines of fire bit into me in quick succession. It felt like each impact was an inch lower than the previous one. I even managed not to scream the first time he caught the top of my thighs. I lost it completely when the whip caught one thigh and curled around to dig into the much more sensitive skin of the inside of my thigh.

He adjusted the angle of the whip and got the end to hit my labia. My screams jumped an octave as I begged for mercy.

He laughed and told me to keep begging as it was music to his ears. He targeted the same area several more times, and my labia exploded in indescribable pain each time.

"Ah, that's what I love to hear: the screams of a bound and helpless slut realizing that her pussy which is supposed to give her intense pleasure is being used to give her the intense pain; and her vulva which is intended to communicate loving affirmation is being used to communicate utter degradation."

He worked his way up my back to my shoulders with the same diagonal striping. He moved to the other side of my bed, started at my shoulders, and worked his way down my back with opposing diagonals.

I could feel the new stripes biting deeper where they crossed the previous stripes, but my voice was hoarse from begging and screaming. He reached my other thigh and again got the tip to curl around inside my thigh.

He adjusted his aim and repeatedly targeted my labia from the other side. I thought I might pass out from the agony.

"Excellent," he chortled like a maniac.

He undid my restraints and lifted me off the bed and onto the floor. I flopped, too spent to struggle. He strapped the gag in my mouth and then fetched the spreader bar. He lifted me onto my knees, pulled my hands back between my legs, and strapped my wrists and ankles to the bar.

My face was against the ground, and the posture collar prevented me from seeing what he was doing. I heard a zipper open as he hummed to himself. He pulled something out and then plugged it into a wall outlet. He picked me up and repositioned me with my butt towards whatever he had plugged in.

I felt a dildo push into my pussy. It wasn't fat. He switched the machine on, and the dildo started thrusting into me. He repositioned it so the dildo was driving up into the top of my vagina instead of along it. The tip was pushing at the wall between my vagina and my colon.

He undid his belt and zipper and positioned himself behind me. He pulled the butt plug out while he continued humming to himself. He slapped my already inflamed butt and then pushed at my rear entrance hard. He buried his cock in my ass in a few shoves. Thank goodness I'd lubed and put the butt plug in to loosen me up.

I thought I could manage until I realized the fucking machine had a remote. He sped it up and extended the length of the thrust. It now hurt like hell each time it hit the wall of my vagina.

"When I get you to the club, we can double team you, but for now, the fucking machine will give me the sensations I want as I feel another cock stimulate mine deep inside you. With four of my friends at the club, you can experience being turned into an airtight ski pole. I bet a little slut like you would cream herself with the humiliation."

He continued fucking my ass while the pain from the machine got worse and worse. I wanted to tell him the angle was wrong, but I couldn't through the gag. The pain became unbearable as he came deep inside my ass, and a shaft of agony ripped through me.

He pulled out and switched the machine off. He knelt in front of me and lifted my head for me to clean his cock. I was so glad I'd had an enema but it still tasted of ass and lube. He cleaned the machine and packed it away. Finally, he undid the two wrist restraints and walked out without saying a single word.

His silence as he departed made my humiliation complete as I realized he didn't even see me as a human being with feelings. I was simply a toy to be used and discarded.

***

After lying there terrified and in agony for a while, I undid my ankles and my gag. I crawled to where my cellphone was and texted Beatrix, "Help! Emergency. Heading to E.D. hurt."

Thirty seconds later, my phone rang. "Erin, are you OK? What's happened?"

I explained what Derrick had done and that I was bleeding from my vagina and pretty sure he had given me a rectovaginal fistula.

Beatrix:

"OK, I'm on it. I'm still at work, so I can quickly commandeer a law enforcement helicopter to drop me off at the medivac pad at your hospital. I'll text you as soon as we are airborne. Once I text you call for a gurney. If the Emergency Department. confirms the fistula, ask them to call the police to report your sexual assault. I'm sure the hospital has a supply of rape kits so the police can use one to verify the identity of your attacker."

"Given that currently, you are the only slave in their kennels and knowing how fearful the hospital is of their other staff knowing they enslaved a physician, I bet they never thought to warn the E.R. about your legal status."

"Neither you nor your assailant can admit you are a slave, so he will probably be prosecuted for sexual assault and gets enslaved for it. If he does claim you are a slave, I will nail his punk-ass for slave abuse which will also get him enslaved. Either way, that sicko is going down."

"One last thing, Erin, is that we can't let them know that we are close friends as I will be there in an official capacity. So, in advance, please excuse me if I seem to be a little cold and distant with you."

***

Erin:

I put all the BDSM equipment back in the toy box and locked it. I didn't want the police asking awkward questions when examining my room. I crawled out of my kennel into the corridor and paged the E.D. to get help. A few minutes later, a team with a gurney arrived. They saw me lying on the floor with my back covered in angry welts.

"Dr Matthews, what the hell happened to you?"

I asked them to wait until the E.D. examined me before I answered that question. They asked where else I hurt, and I told them I was bleeding from my vagina and had a suspected rectovaginal fistula. I was wheeled into an E.D. bay immediately. The E.D. staff don't like seeing one of their own injured, especially from what they immediately suspected was a sexual assault; I refused to confirm that until I knew the results of the internal exam.

One of the E.D. Attendings quickly confirmed the fistula from the presence of anal fluids leaking into my vagina. He paged the Gynaecology Resident on duty and then phoned the police.

While I waited, I started to feel sorry for myself. I seriously wondered if I could survive the next four years with my health and my sanity intact. I wasn't even sure I would be able to complete four years if I was going to be treated like this. Self-pity would cripple me, so I dug deep; 'Erin you can do this. You are a survivor,' I told myself. I took a few deep breaths and calmed myself down.

The police got there 20 minutes later. I knew that legally I had not been sexually assaulted because I was a slave and consent was implied; instead, I was legally the victim of slave abuse. I also knew I couldn't legally tell them that. A nurse got two rape kits from the supply cabinet and had a female officer watch and verify the chain of custody while she swabbed my colon and my vagina.

The nurse commented that since the introduction of legal slavery, rape was now so rare that none of the current E.D. staff had ever used a rape kit.

The police took my statement and photographed the welts on my back and my labia. Having my labia not only examined intimately but also photographed by a male police officer was humiliating in itself. I said nothing because, as a slave, I had no right to privacy - although they didn't know that at the time.

The officers also told me that the hospital security office had provided footage showing Derrick Kushner entering my apartment (they didn't know it was a kennel) and leaving an hour later just before I paged the E.D.

Beatrix arrived shortly after they had finished taking my statement and documenting the evidence. She showed the medical staff an I.D. that didn't look like a D.V.M. badge to get into the bay where I was. The police asked who she was. She showed them the I.D. that puzzled me and asked them not to comment because of a legal N.D.A. in place. She said she would let them know what was going on in private.

It was strange interacting with her in an official capacity. None of the usual warmth in her voice was still present. I asked her what the badge was.

"This is not widely known, but while the Office of Slave Affairs is owned by the Department of Agriculture, it is also partly run by the Department of Homeland Security. As a slave D.V.M., I have an I.D. with quite a few privileges, including the power to initiate investigations and arrest people."

The Gynaecology Resident joined us and performed an internal examination of my vagina. She confirmed the presence of a fistula and prescribed antibiotics to prevent sepsis and narcotics for the pain. She sat at my bedside, held my hand to reassure me, and gave me some good news.

"I hate that this happened to you, Dr Matthews, but you are in very good hands. One of our surgeons repaired several of these while working for Doctors Without Borders at a refugee camp in the Congo. All the patients were victims of sexual assaults. He is experienced in performing this operation. I phoned him at his home, and he told me he would schedule the surgery for tomorrow afternoon. I can tell you, he was really upset this has happened to one of our own."

A more senior officer arrived and said they had obtained a warrant for Derrick Kushner. Beatrix said it was important that she was with the arresting team as she suspected he might try a certain defence. If that happened, she would be the one arresting him on a different charge.

Beatrix left with two officers while two remained. They wanted to examine the crime scene. This worried me because of the N.D.A. I'd signed. I gave my hospital I.D. to one of the security staff. I told him where my apartment was in the hospital and had him escort the officers there.

Rachel:

Erin paused and her expression reminded me of how I imagined a wounded puppy might look. Beatrix kissed and cuddled her while I refilled her wine glass: she gulped it down.

"Rachel, I really want to finish this tonight. We are through all the bad stuff, and Beatrix and I fly home tomorrow."

Erin:

The combination of hydrocodone and lorazepam meant I don't remember much of what happened until I woke up after the operation to find my parents in my room looking distraught. Beatrix had told them that I was under an N.D.A. and wouldn't be able to discuss what happened until things were resolved. They weren't happy but had agreed not to ask questions.

The next day Jean Durham came through for me. Since the hospital wouldn't admit I was a slave, she granted me two weeks of paid medical leave with the option to extend it if my primary care physician agreed. Since my P.C.P. was one of the people who could use me sexually, I wasn't sure what he would say if I asked for an extension.

Jean also told me that Derrick Kushner had declined to use the "she's a slave" defence as that would open another can of worms; instead, he claimed the BDSM activities were consensual as I was a natural submissive and owned a toy box full of BDSM toys. The hospital's Chief Legal Officer was organizing his legal team.

Three days later, I was discharged, and my parents took me home to recuperate. The police interviewed me by video a few times, and Beatrix gave me a video call. She told me that we were on a recorded line and said that even though the hospital had not admitted I was a slave, she was very involved in the investigation but couldn't discuss the details with me.

I requested and got a week's extension to deal with P.T.S.D. from the assault.

***

Just before I was finally due to go back to work, I received a summons to be a witness in the Federal Court in Oklahoma City the following Monday. No one would tell me what the court case was other than that a judge had sealed the proceedings.

I got to the courthouse and was met by a lawyer for the Office of Slave Affairs. He told me that the N.D.A. had been set aside by the court for the duration of these proceedings and that it was imperative I was completely honest and not exaggerate or downplay anything.

I appeared in front of a panel of three judges in a closed courtroom. I was grilled on the details of my enslavement and whether there was any possibility that I had actually failed that rotation in my Residency. I was also grilled on the sexual service I had been required to provide. They also wanted to hear my first-hand account of how I ended up in the E.D. that night.

I was dismissed to a waiting room where the Federal lawyer kept me company but would not tell me what was happening. An hour later, I was summoned back into the courtroom and made to stand before the three-judge panel.