Lawyer Ravished and Enslaved Ch. 02

I was led into a shower of some kind and washed by someone. Afterwards, it was back to my room and more food worth eating.

I am sure you realize where this is heading, Monsieur. I will not go on although the treatment did go on and on. After the second sexual event, I knew what was happening. Lack of sex equaled awful emptiness, boredom, and hunger. Sex equaled happiness and satisfaction. The fact I knew that I was being shamelessly conditioned like Pavlov's Dogs did not make the conditioning any less successful. After many instances of deprivation followed by sex, the equation was driven into parts of my brain that the conscious mind cannot reach. I was not merely a sex slave, I had been made into a slave to sex.

Perhaps, if I had been rescued at that point and received much therapy, I could have been cured of my programing. Instead the following years reinforced the equation so brutally forced into my brain in those opening weeks of my enslavement. Complete obedience and sexual submission equals life and happiness. Disobedience and any reluctance to perform sexually leads me to my darkest memories.

Chapter 6- Completing My Submission

The process of my initial solitary deprivation programing lasted about three weeks. I know that because it was four weeks after I had been taken that I was introduced to my first normal customer of the Pleasure Palace.

A week before I began to receive customers, the door in the back of my cell opened for me to enter without having to wear goggles. Sturmer was there in a room, painted yellow, with a bed, a shower, a normal toilet and a small window from which one could see nothing except whether the sun was out. Sturmer told me to make love to him as I had earlier to the men I could not see. I naturally pulled out all the stops without caring that my conscious mind hated Sturmer with a passion.

It just did not matter that Sturmer was not a nice guy or particularly attractive physically or that I hated him. It was more than a hate fuck. It was a survival hate fuck by a woman who had been engrained to know at every level of her mind that sexual surrender and sexual release was all that mattered in life because that was all I had left. His touch on my nipples and flanks was greeted with sincere moans. I sucked his penis carefully until it was hard as steel before slowly working him into my pussy enjoying every second of contact with my inner lips before his cock hit bottom. The touch on my cervix felt sublime now. I worked my pelvis against his cock in circles and waves until I came, then he came, then I came and his penis recovered without ever leaving me and he came again.

Sturmer was quite pleased with my performance. So was I.

But there was still a week in the little yellow room before I was given to paying customers. During that week, I had sex perhaps four times a day with various men who were directly connected with the Kroesek organization. Compared to being locked in the padded cell without any human contact, I thought the yellow room was heaven. If a man would talk to me, I was even more thrilled. I did not speak at all unless asked. I could not risk offending.

In the third day in the yellow room, Jimmy came to screw me. I hated him too, but there was no way I was going to take the least risk of going back into the padded cell even if it had occurred to me to act with less than complete submission.

I don't think Jimmy was told to test my obedience, but he could not have done better if he tried. He was as rude, hurtful and crude as he could be. "Well, Stacy, you would not hire me because I was too stupid to work in your law firm. Now I am given your cunt as a plaything. They say I am not to leave any marks. That's ok as long as I can leave my spunk.

"Except for the movies of you in your office enjoying a gangbang that have been on the Internet for a week or so, I have never gotten to see you perform in bed. Having seen the movies, I know that if you could do that well before your training, you must be an incredible slut now. I aim to see just how many times the former great divorce lawyer can come in the four hours I have with you today."

Being reminded of the fact that my body and sexual performance was now on the Internet disturbed me but also reminded me that there was really nothing to hide or hold back now.

Donna was right. Jimmy was quite a stud. His penis was not much larger than average but his rhythm and stamina were huge. He began by slowly running the very tips of his fingers over my body. He ended with his fingers coming to rest not quite on my clitoris. When he asked me if I wanted his "bare cock up my cunt," I purred and nodded. He told me to get on my hands and knees on the bed and proceeded to give me it doggy style with his cock up my pussy and a hand gently touching on and around my clit. I came three times before he finally came. His orgasm seemed to ripple through my whole body as I came in an orgasm that spread from my pussy to my toes.

If I had been in control, I would have thanked him, asked him to come back tomorrow and taken a nap. I was not in control. Jimmy produced a vibrator and said that he was going to keep me sexually stimulated while he recovered.

Men are so resentful, Monsieur. They know that some women can have many more orgasms than they can and that they can force us to have them. I think it is out of envy that they make us pay for that ability by making us have more orgasms than we would want, almost more than we can endure. It is as though they want to prove that we should be careful what we wish for. But, Monsieur, we did not necessarily wish for these abilities. Many women have trouble reaching an orgasm and they probably wish they could reach multiple orgasms, but I am not multi-orgasmic because I entered into some contract with the devil. It just happened and was cultivated over years.

Also, Jimmy had to prove that he was the greatest. As a corollary to all that, Jimmy had no interest in any form of sex that might cause him to come without me doing so. After he had come in my pussy twice and my ass once, he was still able to get another erection that lasted forever. I lost track of my own orgasms as I fought against weariness to give him what he wanted, my complete submission and obliteration of any sexual restraint.

I think some women would have had a heart attack. That would have really pleased Jimmy, to fuck me to death, for me to die on my 20th orgasm or something like that. The steam hammer would have beaten John Henry. Yes, I realize, Monsieur, that that is not anything like the old steel driving legend but I thought of John Henry giving his all and dying.

The management of the Pleasure Palace, whoever that was, did let me rest for a few hours after Jimmy left, but the flow of men coming to fuck continued. I will not go through that all. It was just sex.

All that sex was not boring at the time. Being on edge, working relentlessly to prove that I would put out fully to every man whatever he wanted, could not be boring. The orgasms were all momentarily pleasurable, but the overall experience was the hardest work imaginable.

Years later, I continued to work hard even after I knew that they would not send me back to a little cell for solitary confinement or send me to Baytown for sale. Too many satisfied repeat customers would have been disappointed. I still put out my body unreservedly. I'm hard wired for that.

Chapter 7 - RELIGIOUS OPPRESSION

One of the men who came to me in the first week would figure prominently in the future of many women, Solomon Whyte Jr.

Although I had showered after the last man who used me, Solomon Jr. insisted that I take another shower. He asked if I was fertile. After I replied that I did not think so, he said that there would be time for that. He made clear that he was not interested in any sex that was anything other than penis into vagina without a condom. "The Church must tolerate the perverse practices of our allies for now but sex unrelated to at least the possibility of conception is always a sin."

He demanded to know if I knew who he was. I mentioned Donna having met him, but he said that Donna was blessed by one of his disciples. He lectured on the role of women being to bear children and obey the man chosen for them by their elders. He decried that modern chemistry had made it possible for whores like me to have sex without becoming pregnant and that this gave us whores an ungodly advantage over the women who recognized that their role was to serve God by producing children "of our kind." "Our kind is dying out," he said, "because so many women follow the example of sluts like you, Stacy Lightkind, following your obscene lusts and perverted thirsts for careers that God willed be held by men, while you fail to be fruitful and multiply as God wills."

Whyte Jr. never clarified what "our kind" meant. He said that in exchange for the Church's manpower to assist politically, financially, and militarily if necessary, Mayor Murphy and Kroesek had agreed that it was only right that women who refused to have children as God intended be taken as slaves and forced into that role. Such sluts could not be trusted to raise the children they bore. The children of those sluts would have to be brought up in proper godly homes.

Solomon Jr. was practical enough to realize that even missionary style sex required that cocks be erect and vagina's reasonably moist. Those things were achieved with fingers and my mouth before I was told to lie back and not move. He rammed me mechanically for a few minutes before leaving his seed in my body. At least sex with him was not much work.

Chapter 8 - PUT INTO PRODUCTION

Sturmer came back on my seventh day in the Yellow Room to say that I was ready to be a good profitable slave. He added that he was a greedy bastard but had no desire for me to be any more unhappy than necessary. I would be allowed to commune with other women in the facility eventually. He also said that, assuming I continued to submit completely with my body, I should also be able to use my mind a bit between visitors. Once again, he explained, "Most guys want to fuck a woman with a mind, not a human inflatable doll. You need to be able to at least act like you understand what they are talking about when they talk between sex. That's particularly true of you, Stacy, as the guys who don't just want to hurt and fuck you over because of their divorces or just because they are sadists, will probably want to discuss their life stories with the lawyer who had billboards up about how smart she is. Naturally, you have to agree with whatever they say."

Sturmer gave me a newspaper. He told me to shower and groom my naked body the best I could with the various electric trimmers. "No hair below the neck except you can leave a little pubic hair if you do it neatly." He concluded that in an hour I would be moved to a normal hotel room.

After he left, I read that organizer Saheeda Brown, reporter Ivana Petrosky, and socialite Katherina Melorca, wife of millionaire George Melorca, had decided to join the women at the Pleasure Palace. Mayor Murphy had announced that based on his discussions with the owners of the Pleasure Palace, Brown, Petrosky and Melorca, added to Stacy Lightkind and Donna Gutlieb who had taken positions in the Pleasure Palace the previous week, were all that the Pleasure Palace would be accepting this year. "No more women can be accepted at the Pleasure Palace this year even if they beg to do so as hard as the last five accepted did."

A male columnist speculated that the mayor was trying to stem the number of prominent women who had suddenly left town after resigning important positions. He wondered how many so-called "volunteers" there might be next year. An article contained a quote from a young woman, who absolutely refused to give her name, "Women are going to have to get out of town, accept the risk of becoming a sex slave, or become slaves to husbands."

On the other hand, the article quoted an older woman who said she had 8 children, was a member of The Church, and blessed Mayor Murphy for supporting the effort to restore decency to the city by getting the whores into proper places for them rather than allowing them to masquerade as reporters, socialites and lawyers.

A letter in the paper from a man stated that it was no wonder that the women in the Pleasure Palace volunteered to be there. "It was only to be expected that this bunch of childless professional women would hear their biological clocks, recognize that were too old or depraved to get a decent man, and volunteer to work where they could use their best talents." He concluded that decent young women should learn from this and find a man who would support them in raising a large, godly family. He made a point of saying that he was not a member of The Church because he thought that Solomon Whyte and his son were too liberal.

Sturmer came back after about an hour and a half. He gave me a pair of high heeled shoes, higher than I had ever won before, and told me to put them on. I asked him if he really thought it was wise to work with the Whytes. "Isn't it dangerous for businessmen to try to form a partnership with a religious movement?" I suggested. If I had described the situation as I really thought it was, I would have asked if it was wise for a bunch of brutal immoral gangsters interested only in money and exploitation of women to form a partnership with a cult of puritanical religious fanatics.

My attempt to be diplomatic was not good enough. Sturmer made clear that no questions were welcome with a glance exactly like the one he'd given weeks before saying that I needed to be taken to a padded cell for programing. Picking up on that instantly, my mind and body revolted. It was like a person with an acute phobia coming into a realization that she was in close proximity to that which she feared most in the world. I instantly looked down, afraid even to beg to be forgiven for my impertinence. I began to tremble uncontrollably.

Sturmer smiled and said, "Stacy, except when I tell you to speak freely, the only questions you are to ask are to be directed to how you might better please your owners and their customers. I will allow, however, that it is not easy to read the news and do other things to keep up your mental abilities without questions and opinions coming into your mind. For many years, you were raised to question and dissect facts. In the future, however, you should adopt the rule that unless you are very certain that what you will say will not offend your owners or customers, you should keep your mouth shut. Also, remember that if you ever intentionally do anything to cross us, you will die after days or months in solitary confinement and Cathy will be sold in Baytown."

If I could have melted onto the floor, I would have done so.

""In the future, if you want to speak freely, you should specifically ask permission to speak freely. I might grant permission if I am in the mood. However," Sturmer said, "I have an ego as well as ambitions. Because it should not hurt anything, I will this time indulge my desire to be thought wise by a former classmate. But as someone smart said, it's not a matter of having the certainty of being more intelligent than everyone else. Such certainty is of no consequence because so many imbeciles share it.

"This is not a Handmaiden's tale, Stacy, at least not outside of The Church. Mayor Murphy, Mr. Kroesek and I are well aware that the Whytes and the members of The Church see the world differently from us. Not as much, though, as they pretend.

"More importantly, despite their religious blabber about saving the world from sin, the Whytes really only want to control their world on their side of the river. I never deal with the Whytes directly and they don't know me, but I know they think both you and I can go to hell. So, we will help them burn their witches and force their women to breed like rabbits. If one of The Church member's wives does something stupid like talk to a lawyer about a divorce, they can kidnap her, imprison her and keep her as breeding livestock. But those of us running this town won't allow The Church leaders to impose their pretended view of morality broadly. That would be very bad for business and we don't want to live like they pretend to do. If we only allowed the sexual practices the Whytes say they like, basically sex just to make babies, there would be months that our women could not really perform as whores particularly if the father wants to know it is his child. We will only take a profitable sex slave out of sex work for breeding is if someone has paid us so much as to make it worthwhile.

"If the Church seriously tries to change the town to accord with its' teachings, Mayor Murphy and Mr. Kroesek can quickly become champions of freedom and squash The Church. But I don't believe that it will ever be necessary. As I said, The Church only wants to control the bodies of the women born or drawn into it. In fact, the Church leaders even like having hot babes like you to fuck when the women they've forced to become emotionally frigid cows threaten to bore them to death. And, they will justify to themselves for paying to fuck one of our women by saying their women can't satisfy them."

Monsieur, I said nothing back to Sturmer and only thought to myself about how the victim is always blamed.

Sturmer led me to an elevator and told me that he would take the freight elevator and meet me in Room 215. I was to take the elevator in front of us and go to the first floor. Nude as I was in nothing but heels, I was to walk into the large lobby and greet everyone like I was trying to generate new business at a bar association meeting except I should concentrate naturally on the men, show off my body to the best effect, and tell them how eager I was to see them in Room 215. I would know some of the men from my earlier life. There would also be many men and women that I did not know. Some of them worked for Kroesek. I was not to mention him, Sturmer, to anyone.

I thought at the time that it was a test as well as an advertisement. I realized later that it was mainly part of Sturmer's long-term exit strategy. When I got to the lobby, I saw six fully nude women sitting on couches with men in various states of dress and undress. The men were chatting with each other and telling the women stories to which the women listened attentively and respectfully as though their lives depended on it. I recognized Jennifer Racey and a former client, Ginger, but they all looked very attractive while having numerous piercings and jewelry. About six women in little black aprons and nothing else were also there. These women were generally serving refreshments or posed in various humiliating or obscene ways. I recognized none of the servers.

Other men were milling about, drinking champagne, listening the to the jazz being played on a piano or waiting at the desk to make appointments.

I recognized one of the men sitting with the nude women as a county judge and another man as a man who was the ex-husband of a woman whose divorce I'd handled. I also recognized a lawyer acquaintance near the piano and greeted him like an old friend with whom I'd love to have sex. "Oh, Stacy," he said, "How nice to see you. There have been so many strange rumors flying around about you. But you look incredible. You worked way too hard before. I certainly can understand wanting to give that up. Sometimes while writing a brief on some stupid pleading issue I wish I could just quit and work as you do, but somehow I don't think it would work for a fat middle-aged man."

Note that he did not try to describe exactly what he thought I did. I smiled, shook my breasts ever so gently, and said, "Roy, I am so happy you came by here. I hope you can be a client in my new practice as soon as possible. I'd so like to help you get away from those tiresome legal issues for a while."