Slave Academy Ch. 01byHippieSlut©
I'm standing outside the roadhouse waiting for my ride. I'm one of the two regular go-go dancers there on Friday nights, and the other girl has already left with her boyfriend. The married couple who manage us, get us the gigs and chaperone us are still in the bar sorting out the money, and I'm standing here freezing waiting for them to drive me back to campus.
My name's Pam. I'm 20 years old, a junior at a rural college in a small town in upstate New York. I need to dance to make money for school, and since I'd make a terrible waitress in the cafeteria, this is what I do as a weekend job. It's good money for 1967, 25 dollars a night. If I dance topless, which I sometimes do, I get double, which is phenomenal. The customers like me: I have very long strawberry blonde hair down past my waist, green eyes that can look violet in the right light, a slim build but big, firm tits and a curvy ass, just big enough for a man's hands to grab onto.
It's a good job. Bob and Sue, the managers, make sure nobody bothers the dancers and that we get paid promptly, and they drive us there and back. I've noticed a definite increase in customers on the nights I dance, and even more when I dance topless. I have great tits, if I do say so myself, and I enjoy showing them off.
When I dance, I usually wear a tiny denim microskirt about eight inches long and a matching skimpy bra, so when I take off the bra I push the skirt down a little on my hips. It has a belt with a big buckle in front with snaps right down to the them, and it fits very tightly, outlining my ass cheeks and ending just below, so if I bend or dip at all I can flash my smooth-shaven pussy or my round rosy lower butt at the customers. Who really appreciate it.
The other dancers are a lot more conservative, and I can tell they think I'm slutty, but I don't care. I get such a rush out of men looking at me like that; if the roadhouse owner only knew it, I'd dance naked if he asked.
I fantasize sometimes about taking off the bra, then unbuckling the belt buckle and unsnapping the skirt and whipping it off, to stand there completely nude in front of the customers. I bet I'd get more than double pay for that. Sometimes I even fantasize about a man jumping up onstage to throw me down on my back and mount me and rape me right in front of everyone, and after him being held down to be used by a dozen others, hell, by the whole bar.
Anyway, I'm outside now, freezing my tail off in my vintage thrift-shop coat of black rabbit fur. I wear boots for dancing, so at least my feet are sort of warm. I see a car leaving the parking lot, and it looks a lot like Bob and Sue's. Oh, no, they can't have forgotten I'm here, can they? I start to run after the car, and then someone grabs me from behind.
Whoever he is, he's very tall and very strong. He has one hand over my mouth and the other around me, pinning my arms, and he lifts me off my feet and carries me over to a van parked nearby. I'm struggling, but it's no use. He throws me into the van, where another man is waiting. They pin me down with their weight, kneeling on my legs, and my wrists and ankles are tied and then lashed together. Then one of them duct tapes my mouth shut and blindfolds me, and after that I can feel him strapping me securely to the floor of the van so I can't slide around.
The other man gets behind the wheel and starts driving. They haven't said a word to me the whole time, and I'm still stunned. I'm being kidnapped, and there's not a thing I can do about it. We drive for a long time, doubling back and turning a lot, so I have no idea where we're going. I don't hear any other cars, so I'm guessing we're going up into the mountains.
The man still with me in the back of the van begins to feel my tits. I try to cry out in protest, but the tape is tight over my mouth. He laughs, knowing I'm helpless and he can do whatever he wants to me. He runs his hand up under my skirt, along my inner thighs, then squeezes my bare pussy. I try to protest again, but even to me it sounds like arousal.
And pretty soon it is, as he starts to finger-fuck me. I can feel his finger moving deeper and deeper inside me, then another finger on my clit, and I'm dripping wet by now; his finger slides into me all the way up to his hand. In no time he has three fingers deep in my cunt and his thumb up my ass, too. No one's ever done this to me before, and I'm twisting my hips, trying to escape, but all at once I start thrusting my hips in time with his fingers moving in me, moaning behind the gag.
"Man, she's really hot," he says to the driver. "You should get some of this before we deliver her."
"Just don't shove your cock in her, remember. That's against the rules. She's merchandise now. No mouth, no cunt."
"Yeah, yeah, this is pretty good as is." He continues finger-fucking me, then I feel his hard cock in my hand and I instinctively start pumping it. He comes almost instantly. "Wish I could stuff her for real."
The driver laughs. "You can't afford her. Pretty girl like that, she'll go for a lot of money."
I wonder what they mean; are they going to have people pay to fuck me? Or...something else?
Finally, after what seems like two hours, the van stops, and the guy in back gets out and lifts me out. Carrying me over his shoulder, he enters a building of some sort. I get the impression it's pretty big. He carries me into a room and throws me down onto the floor.
"Delivery as ordered," he says, and I realize he's speaking to someone. They talk indistinctly, and then the door closes and he's gone. I'm lying there on the floor; at least the room is warm. Then I feel someone, no, two someones, untying the ropes on my ankles and wrists. One of them pulls me to my feet and starts taking off my coat.
"Don't try to take off the blindfold or the gag, or we'll have to hurt you, and we don't want to do that," one of them says. "But take off everything else."
I don't dare not obey, so I quickly strip. There's not much to take off: bra, skirt, boots and fishnet stockings with garter belt. When I'm standing there completely nude, one of the men grabs my wrists and fastens them to a rope or chain hanging from the ceiling, while the other spreads my legs and clamps my ankles in cuffs attached to a spreader bar. I hang there helplessly, my toes barely touching the floor, naked in front of them.
I'm trembling now, as they start to run their hands over me, checking me out like a prize filly. They squeeze my breasts, spread my pussy and ass cheeks, feel my thighs. Finally one of them speaks.
"I know you're scared, and you're right to be scared. But just do everything we tell you and you won't be hurt. Just get used to the fact that your old life is over. You've been brought here to be trained as a slave, and when you've been broken and trained you'll be sold. From now on, you're livestock, a piece of merchandise to be bought and sold. You have no name, no rights and no hope of escape. Now I'll let you ask a few questions."
He rips the tape off my mouth and holds a glass of water with a straw in for me to sip. I do, eagerly, and then I find my voice. "Who are you? Why are you doing this? Why me?"
The second man speaks. "You don't need to know who we are. In a little while we'll turn you over to the slavemaster, and he'll arrange for your training to begin. We're doing this for money, of course, and because we think this is how women should be handled. Why you? We saw you dancing at the roadhouse, and your dear managers agreed to let us grab you. They were well paid, of course."
The betrayal stings. "But people will miss me! I have family, friends."
"That's all taken care of. There will be a note left in your dorm room saying you ran away with a guy to the West Coast; enough of your clothes and things will be taken to make it look real. No one will look for you, I promise."
"You can't do this, it's illegal, I'm not a slave, I'm a person..."
"Not for long. Now let's have some information, and you'd better answer truthfully. Are you a virgin? We can check, you know."
"WHAT??...No, no I'm not."
"Good; virgins are a pain to deal with. How many men have had you?"
"Orgasms? Do you come easy? Enjoy fucking?"
"Well..." I cry out as a hand is thrust between my legs and fire shoots through me. I hang there trembling, and the men laugh.
"Oh, you're plenty hot, slut. Obviously that's a talented little cunt you have there. Once you've been trained, you'll be a superb whore for sure."
"You can't do this—please—"
"Oh, but we can, and we are, slut. You're a fine piece of ass, and you should bring a good price. We might put you on the block to sell you at auction, every woman should be sold at least once in her life, or else we'll sell you outright to a private buyer. We have a request list from regular clients, individuals and also places like harems or brothels: what kind of slave they want, hair, eyes, build, all that. I'm sure we can find someone who'll be happy to buy you, and if not we have well-attended auctions every two or three months, depending on the supply of merchandise."
Merchandise. That's what I am now. I am going to be trained and sold. I shake my head.
"This is insane..."
A sharp crack across my thighs with what feels like a riding crop. "Don't ever say anything like that again, slut. From now on, you speak only when spoken to and you obey all commands instantly. Understand?"
I don't dare speak, so I just nod.
"Good. Now we're taking you to the slavemaster. He'll be in charge of you from here on in. Good luck, slut. You'll need it."
They snap a steel collar around my neck and lock shackles on my wrists and ankles; a chain is also padlocked around my waist. Clipping a leash to the ring in the collar and chaining my hands behind my back, they lead me down a passage and down some stairs. I'm still blindfolded, so I trip and stumble, but they're careful to help me.
We stop in what seems a small room, and the two men lift me onto a padded table, where I'm stretched out and fastened down under a metal frame until I can't move even a tiny bit. "You're going to be branded now," one of them says. "We always mark our merchandise. It makes it easier to keep track of sales, and it lets you know you're livestock, not a human being anymore."
I scream as I feel the light, searing touch of a branding iron on my left thigh; two or three quick strikes and it's done. I've been branded like the animal they say I am.
After that, they pierce my nipples and navel; they also ring my nose and put a bar over my clit, and rings going down each side of my labia. Finally they put a ring across the entrance to my cunt.
"This is all so your owner will be able to better control you; he can put chains across your pussy to lace you shut, or a leash in your nose ring to lead you around or keep you still for punishment or use. All women look good with steel in them."
The other guy agrees. I'm in tears, since everything hurts like hell, and he gently brushes them away. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it. All the sluts do. Now we're going to put you in your cage and let your piercings heal up a bit."
I am locked in a cage, and finally they say I can take off my blindfold. They're already gone, I don't see them, only the door down the hall closing behind them. I seem to be in the middle of a row of four or five windowless little cells, but they're empty. I must be the only captive at the moment, or else they keep other slaves apart from newly arrived girls.
My cage has a low, wide bed, various rings and chains fixed to the wall and ceiling and floor, a little side room with a shower, a bath and a toiler. There's a very small opening in the cage bars down by the floor, where I guess my food will be left for me.
I look down at my new piercings; well, the men were right, I do look good. And the brand, a small neat geometric design, marking me as a slave and an animal, suddenly thrills me. The healing will probably take a week or two, and I guess I'll be kept in this cage for all that time and then start my training.
Wrong again. A man comes in then, and I instantly see that he's no one to cross. He isn't overly tall, but he looks very strong, and his face, though not kind, is strict and honest-looking. I feel an instant desire to please him and more than a little fear of him.
"Welcome, slut. You will address me as Master Marco, and you will kneel in my presence and the presence of any man." He pauses, and I go to my knees immediately. "Good. Now look at me. I am the slavemaster here, and I'll be giving you your first training. I know you have a lot of questions, so for the next three days you may speak freely. After that, slave discipline will be in effect, and if you need to speak you must ask permission. Now speak."
"Master"—I stutter a little, but the word seems to come naturally to my tongue; he notices this, and smiles. "Master Marco, please, is this all real?"
"Oh, it's very real. You were acquired on the recommendation of an old and valued client of ours, who had seen you dance. He may even buy you himself, once you're properly broken and trained. This place is our training school. We've been in business for a long time. It's a big house, a big estate, thousands of acres of woods and fields, no one around. We're deep in the mountains, well off the roads; the nearest house is five miles away. This used to be an old convent, which is why it's so isolated, stone walls and cells and all. Now it's a school to train and sell female pleasure slaves; how's that for irony? I tell you all this so you know there's no hope of escape. The grounds are walled and electrically fenced; there are patrols with dogs; cameras everywhere. No slave has ever escaped from here, and you will not be the one to break that record."
He smiles again. "I know you don't believe this, but by the time we're done with your training, you won't even want to escape. I promise you, it's true. You'll fight, and you'll be broken, and the harder you fight, the deeper you'll be broken, and the happier you'll be in the end that you surrendered. It's what you were born for: obedience and service to men. Now. You've had a long, hard night so far. Someone will bring you food, I know you must be hungry. And then get a good night's sleep. We'll start your training in the morning. There's a lot to learn and talk about."
He leaves, and as I'm sitting on the bed, staggered and trying to come to terms with this, another man enters with a tray of food, which he slides through the opening in the bars. I wait till he's gone before I tear into it: a steak, a baked potato, salad, a buttered roll, a small square of apple cake, a big glass of milk. Healthy food, and I'm famished. After I clean the plate, I feel better, and I lie down on the bed and try to go to sleep.
But I can't. I'm a slave, I whisper to myself, still staggered by the events of the past few hours. Men are going to train me and sell me and own me and use me. I cry myself to sleep, but a very real part of me is...excited.
Suddenly I wake. The cells are dark now, but someone has come into my cage and is on top of me. "This is how your training starts, slut," growls a deep voice. "You're going to learn that you can be used at any time, by any man who wants you, however he wants to take you." It's not the slavemaster, it's no one whose voice I've heard before, and in the pitch dark I can't see his face. He's naked, with a huge, hard cock, and all I can tell is he's big and strong and he's going to rape me.
He reaches up to attach my wrist shackles to the chains at the head of the bed, pulling me down on the bed, stretching me out. He slips the cunt ring out and doesn't pay any attention to my new piercings, but pushes his knee between my thighs, mounts me, and shoves his cock into my cunt. I scream with the pain of it, but as he begins to thrust in and pull back out, harder and deeper every time, the pain suddenly is overtaken by a building rush of arousal. I want him in me, I want him on me, and I spread my thighs wider to take him deeper.
He forces my mouth open and fills it with his tongue, then tongues my ear, bites my neck, my shoulder, my breasts, tongue moving around my nipple piercings, his teeth tugging on the ring in my nose. I arch off the bed, amazed at what I'm feeling. There's no pain now from the brand or the piercings, just a hot gush between my legs and a weakness spreading over me as I helplessly respond.
He's moving in me now, our bellies tight together, as I melt under him, eager for him, my knees rising to allow him complete access to my cunt, my hips lifting to him. This is how a woman is supposed to be with a man, how a man is supposed to use her. I feel the skin of his cock sliding against the walls of my cunt, his hardness stretching it out, filling me up. I moan as he settles down into the saddle and begins to ride me hard.
"Well, well, the acquisition team that brought you in said you were a hot little whore, and they were right. You are one great piece of tail, this cunt was made to be fucked. Now come on, slut, scream for me like an animal. You have my permission to speak. Tell me what I'm doing to you."
"You're--you're fucking me..."
"You're fucking me, master. Your cock is in my cunt."
"That's right, slut. I'm your master, and my cock is fucking your cunt. Do you like being used, slut?"
"Yes—master. I like being used, master."
"I can tell you do...you're hot and wet and tight, just like a slut should be. Come on, push back harder, that's it. Tell me, slut, what are you here for?"
"I'm a slave, master, I'm your slave. I'm here for you to use. Use me, master, please use me!"
He pounds me harder and faster, thrusting in and staying there, now using only his hips, and I feel a huge bursting wave starting to rise up from my clit. His big cock is deeper in me than anyone who's ever fucked me before, I feel totally possessed by him as he drives into me; there isn't a fraction of an inch of my soaking-wet cunt he doesn't completely fill and own. But he's right: this is what I'm here for...to be used and enjoyed by men, this is my purpose now. Well, if I'm a slave, I'm going to be a damn good one...
I start thrusting my hips back against him, he slips his hands under my shoulderblades and his fingers hook over the tops of my shoulders to my collarbone; he grabs on to me, pulling me down onto his cock as his hips are pushing me up, his teeth set in my neck, gripping me like a mating tiger.
Nobody's ever fucked me like this; I'm helpless under him, moaning, my arms still chained to the wall. He knows just what to do to me to make me come against my will, and we get off together, his hoarse shout of triumph, my scream as his hot come floods my cunt and I practically explode.
He lies there on top of me, still in me, gives a final few thrusts that make me shake from head to foot, then pulls out of me, slapping me approvingly on the hip.
"That was terrific. You're a great fuck, pretty animal. You're going to make some lucky man a fantastic slave."
I squirm a little under him, grinding my still-throbbing pussy into him, wanting more. "Thank you...master."
He hesitates, then flips me onto my belly. The straps on my wrists tighten as they cross over, and the pressure of the rings in my flesh stings me, but I don't care as he mounts me from behind and pushes into my pussy again. He drives so hard he almost suffocates me in the sheets, pulling on the chain around my waist to get my ass up in the air, then he pulls out of my cunt and before I can protest he's pushing into my virgin asshole.
"Oh please, master, no, I've never been fucked there..."
"Well, now you're going to be, like the animal you are." He forces his way past the tight ring of muscle and buries his cock in my asshole up to his balls, ignoring my cries of pain and protest, then reaches around and slips three fingers into my dripping cunt. "You like that, slut? You like being filled up like this? Just wait till your real training starts, two and three cocks in you at a time. You'll love it, I promise."