The Breaking of a Maid

Includes scenes of non-consensual sex. Mostly femdom but with some male-male sex.

The Breaking of a Maid

They'd kept me in a drugged stupor while I healed from the surgery they'd forced on me, naked and imprisoned in a room carefully designed not to allow any sharp edges, anything that could harm me. Stout chains on my legs and arms completed my helplessness. I was fed three times a day but never given cutlery, and cameras in the ceiling watched me, unceasing.

That gave me time to get used to my new body. I'd been given breasts, firm and round C-cups that made my chest feel heavy. My cock had been circumcised and my scrotum had been tightened up. No hair grew there in the full two weeks of my recovery, and I surmised that some chemical had permanently changed the skin; the same had been done to my face, which was now smooth as a peach.

My lips were bigger, lusher and poutier than before, and I had implants in my hips and bottom that made them more feminine. It even felt like the muscles in my legs had altered, and it seemed like I was somehow able to extend them further than before. I walked and stretched as far as the chains would allow - it was all there was to do once I could get out of bed again.

My voice, I was forced to admit, was also different. It had returned after about a week of recovery, as the swelling went down. I squeaked in a high, girly pitch and did not sound one bit like the man I had been. I was in trouble, I knew, altered into some new feminine form.

My new body was a shape right out of my fantasies, and it had to have been done by someone who had read my blogs and stories. I had been turned into the femme-slave I had imagined myself to be. It wasn't a reality I'd ever intended to live, but there it was. I'd thought it over and over a lot in those two weeks, and it seemed that someone had gone to a lot of trouble and expense to do this. It could only be the beginning.

A few times, knockout gas had been released into the room. When I'd come to, I'd been in a medical room strapped to a gurney, where a female doctor and a male nurse had checked over my wounds. With a big gag in my mouth, all I could do was mumble and grunt, trying to form words to beg them to let me go. All that happened was the nurse grabbed my balls and told me to shut up, with a warning squeeze.

On day 15, four tall muscle-bound men in big metal collars came into my cell and grabbed hold of my skinny limbs in their strong hands. A black woman in leather followed them in, and when I demanded to know what was happening, she thrashed my balls with a riding crop until I cried. She clearly enjoyed hurting me, I could see it in her eyes. She smiled and put a finger to her lips.

"Silence, slave. Even if I do love to hear your new girly tones... You have been altered in accordance with your new owners' wishes, and now you will be taken to live with them. Resistance is utterly futile, and will doubtless be punished very harshly on your arrival. Boys, bring him."

"Yes, Mistress," they chorused together.

Were they really slaves? Between them they could have easily overpowered her, but each of them followed her orders with signs of real respect, even fear. Each had a black ring around their balls, some kind of device that was locked on there. Their cocks and balls were as bare as mine, and they all wore thick steel chastity cages that swayed as they pushed me through the corridors.

We emerged into a windowless parking garage, lit with bright neon strip lights. A handful of vehicles were parked there, all with their number plates masked with tape, so I couldn't see anything that would let me identify someone. I was half-marched, half-dragged through the place, my feet padding bare against the hard tarmac.

A delivery van waited for me, its male driver and a female helper lounging next to it. They wore dark overalls and caps, and no one would have paid either of them a second glance on any road or in any city. They opened the van's rear doors and had the slaves bring me inside, and I realised that I might be in for a long journey.

The van was built for transporting captive humans. Near the rear doors were stacks of wooden crates, some of which could be moved aside to make a tunnel through to a clear space beyond. In the centre of that little area was a car seat that was festooned with leather straps. Only two of the big slaves could fit in with me, and the male driver came in behind them.

"Slaveboys, get this bitch strapped down good and tight. He might squeal but that's just part of the fun. That's it, slaves, really do them right up good. He can't be allowed to escape when we're on the road, and if even one limb gets loose it'll be your hide it gets taken out on, not mine. Good boys, that's it.

"Well, sugar, this is it. You're going to your new life. Nice tits, by the way, someone must have paid real good money for those. They really suit you, yeah? My wife is going to ride with you in the back - she's a dabhand with the cattle prod. It'll take us about twelve hours to get where we're going, and if you need to pee or anything, she'll take care of it.

"This van is expertly soundproofed, but I'm going to gag you now anyway. Scream and my wife will likely make the trip very painful for you. There, there's nothing like the sight of a newly enslaved bitch with a gag in his pretty mouth. Relax, honey, I'm not going to fuck you. You're to be delivered pristine to your new lady. Well, you're ready. Enjoy the trip."

His wife got in as soon as the driver had left. The slaveboys cleared out too, and the woman pulled down a folding seat and belted herself in. She smiled salaciously at me and winked, then she picked up a cattle prod and reached out with it to me. My body was held tight by the chair's straps and I couldn't move an inch to get away from her. She rested the prod on my balls, then slid it away. I got the message.

The adrenaline wore off a couple of hours in and exhaustion overcame me. The driver and his wife chatted over an intercom and I dozed off, naked and gagged, while they watched over me. I hadn't worn a stitch of clothing in two weeks and the feeling was no longer completely alien, but it did remind me constantly of how powerless I had become.

I awoke a few times, always wondering how much of the journey was left. I had to pee twice, and the woman took care of it by having me piss in a bottle. She even shook off the drops for me, then wiped me down. I sweated with fear and anxiety, and the cabin started to smell pretty rank, but it obviously didn't bother my jailor.

We arrived somewhere after perhaps the longest twelve hours of my life. I had not been able to shift any of those straps even one inch, and when the woman got out of the van and left me alone I knew my last chance was in front of me. I strained and bucked and twisted, but the straps were thick leather and the buckles strong steel. It was useless. I had no way out, not that way anyway.

The driver came in behind me. "Well, bitch, we're at your new home. I surely hope you last longer than your predecessor did - he took the easy way out, and we had to come back and get him. What was left of him, anyway. You, slaveboy, come do the attachments."

"Yes, sir," came a man's voice from behind me.

Into my view came a middle-aged man, lean and fit, with a clean-shaven face and short grey hair. He wore a steel collar with a green LED light at the front - the collar had a couple of bulges on either side of his neck, and was obviously powered. Around his cock was a chastity cage, and around his balls a black ring just like the one the slaveboys at the medical centre had worn.

He carried an identical collar in one hand, and an identical ring in the other. He showed me the collar first, unhinging it and then approaching my neck with it. I wriggled as far as the bondage seat would allow, but it was pointless. He stroked my face, whispered calming little words to me, then he moved in fast and clipped the collar around my neck. It settled with a clunk, then a hiss, and it fit perfectly.

"Armed," said an electronic voice from the collar. "Connect the control ring."

He came back up with the black ring in his hands and I squirmed some more as he looped it around my balls then somehow tightened it in place. I felt a buzz from it, a little electric tingle, and the collar spoke again, "Control ring bound." The man - the slave - checked the collar and ring were fitted tightly, then he rose.

"Sir, this slaveboy is ready to be chained and shackled, sir. May I proceed?"

"Sure thing, boy, sure thing."

I couldn't see where from, but the slaveboy came back with chains and shackles. He shackled my wrists and ankles in the cold steel bracelets, then he linked them all together to a chain he threaded around my waist. I didn't make it easy for him but he managed anyway. When he was done, I was bound like a prisoner is when they're moved. I would be able to shuffle my feet, but not raise my arms or run. Helpless.

"Ready, sir."

I was released and led out of the van. I emerged into a large garage, which held several very expensive cars and even a little speedboat. Clearly whoever had done this to me was a person of means. When the garage doors opened, I saw it was night time already. The grounds were screened by thick hedges and I could see nothing through them; the van disappeared around a corner and was gone.

"Come, boy," said the male slave who was with me.

With no other option except to stay locked in a garage, I followed him and started noting things about my surroundings. I tried to remember exits, paths, doors, anything that could be a weapon. My steps were heavy and my body was tired, but I tried to push through the exhaustion and focus on learning, thinking. It wasn't easy.

The slaveboy led me through from the garage into a large home, and I caught a brief glimpse of a long corridor before he pushed me up a little twisting staircase. I went first and he grasped my chains from behind, to keep pushing me forward. I mumbled around the gag but he never slowed down.

We ascended two flights of stairs, and then we were buzzed through into what I can only describe as an elegant prison. We were in a corridor on the mansion's second floor, a long stretch of space dotted with bedroom doors. Except, these doors were made of bars. The corridor itself was plush, and the rooms behind the doors equally so. Everything spoke of expensive tastes.

In some of the rooms, I saw naked collared males at rest. A couple of them were quite like the slaveboy who was directing me, lean and tall middle-aged men. A couple were much younger, perhaps nineteen or twenty, and one room held two men whose ages I couldn't tell, but who were crawling on all-fours and behaving for all the world like pets.

We arrived at a cage door and stopped. The slaveboy looked up at a camera and nodded, then he pushed me inside the room when the door swung open. It locked behind us. He sat me down on the frilly bed that sat in the middle of the room, then he brought a chair over and sat down on it, facing me. I was still bound, still naked.

He let me look around the room. It was a girly girl's room, that much was clear. There were pink frills everywhere, and a big dresser and mirror that took up most of one wall. A jewellery cabinet and lots of makeup were spread across the dresser's surface, and I felt quite certain that the drawers and wardrobe would not hold anything except femme clothing.

Clearly, this room was meant for me. I had been surgically altered to have breasts, curvy hips and a juicy bottom, and now I had been deposited in a frilly room that was right out of one of my fantasies. The slaveboy saw me realise this and nodded. He got up off the chair and fished around in a drawer, then came back with two more objects.

He came back with a cold pack, which he crushed in his hand. When it was ready, he put it against my cock and watched as it shrank right down. I knew what was coming but by then I was too tired to resist, and I could tell it would happen anyway. My head swam and I was bouncing between unconsciousness and adrenaline. I had no more fight in me.

He presented to me a pink chastity cage with a handcuff base. The handcuff part meant it could be locked on despite the device that was wrapped around my balls. He clicked it in place then locked it off with a key. Next he threaded my cold cock into the tube and then clicked that into place, where it locked to some mechanism. Now I was unable to get hard, even to touch myself.

He sat back down. "So, let me explain a few things. You're now a slave and you will be until the day you die, just like I will be. The people who own you are my wife and my daughter, who you'll meet tomorrow. You're their new maid, you see, just like you've always fantasised about being. Don't shake your head, we know all about you.

"You're in the middle of a very large estate that has taken extreme measures to ensure its privacy. You will be watched every second of the day by a team of security staff who can shock or disable you any time, via that thing around your balls or the collar you wear. They're paid extremely well out of a fortune I made, they live on-site and they each own slaves of their own. None will ever show mercy. They're part of this conspiracy too.

"Around your neck is a bomb collar. It will go off if you cross a geo-fence around the property, or if you go too far from the centre of this house - the system has redundancy built in in case one part fails. To the outside world, I am dead. My wife faked my death then enslaved me, she's the most cunning woman I've ever met and my daughter is just as smart. There's no way out.

"Act like a maid, speak like a maid, think like a maid. When they tell you to do something degrading or humiliating, do it. When they ignore you, let them. When they tell you to lick their arses or suck a cock, do it. Slaves have no rights, and you will learn that one way or another. Your predecessor decided he couldn't take it and let the collar blow his head off; took someone else with him too. Your choice is to obey, or to die. Nothing else.

"Our owners do care about us. They only enslave the most submissive, most sexually-driven men they can find for the roles they put us in. They know you are a perfect candidate to spend the rest of the life they allow you as a sissy-maid to a house of dominant women, and I think you know that too.

"Tonight, eat - there are some snacks in that drawer next to the bed, then sleep. There's a single sleeping pill in there too, it'll help. Tomorrow, you'll awake and need to rise when told. Then you should have a really good, thorough shower, then I should think my wife or my daughter will come to collect you and tell you what to wear. I'm going to undo the chains now, then leave. If you fight me, I'll knock you down, and you will be punished so, so severely for it. So, please, don't..."

He did what he'd said and left without another word. I immediately went into the drawers to look for something to cover myself with. There were a great many stockings, pairs of panties and some things like garter belts. In one drawer I found a collection of short nightdresses in silk and satin, all of them just long enough to drop below my bottom.

I decided to sleep naked instead, so I got into the bed and under the covers. The sheets were satin and beautifully cool, and the bedclothes were satin too, dyed hot pink. I didn't think about changing them. I ate a little, drank some water, and tried to frame my thoughts. I imagined escape but sleep kept creeping up on me. I imagined finding a way to send a message, but my eyes kept shutting. I thought about fighting back somehow, but finally, I slipped into dreams.

DAY 1

That first day I woke up and cried. When the heaving sobs had passed, I lay in bed an hour or so until a voice came in over the intercom and told me it was time to get up. Ordered me to get up. I didn't do so immediately and I got the first of many, many electric shocks through my balls. I howled with pain, then again when another shock hit. Convinced, I got up.

There was no privacy in the bathroom because cameras were installed there too, but I got into the shower and let the warm water comfort me. I smelled pretty bad from the stress of the day before, so I enjoyed getting clean and didn't really take any notice of how floral the soap and shampoo were.

I had no idea what to do once I was dried off. I tied the towel around my waist and went back into the bedroom, then I looked again through the drawers and wardrobe for something 'normal' to wear. My mind was still refusing to accept that this was my new reality, that I was a collared slave who was to become a sissy maid. I couldn't deny the changes to my body, especially the addition of breasts, but I couldn't reconcile them either. I sat down and waited.

Around an hour later, two female security guards came in and two slaveboys followed them. The four of them worked together to get me dressed, forcing me first into frilly white knickers, stockings and garter, then into a little French maid's dress with a very short skirt, black two-inch heels, and a glossy brunette wig that finished the look. One of the slaveboys made up my face with lipstick and eyeliner, and I had to acknowledge: I really looked the part.

A security guard chained up my legs on a very short length of chain, then shackled my wrists similarly. My hands were given a little leeway to help with my balance, but a chain connected them to my waist and left me little opportunity for resistance. The guards shocked my balls a few times when I was less than cooperative, and I learned to fear the device I wore.

Our entourage left the cells and made its way downstairs, into the heart of the mansion's living area. The guards guided and cajoled me, and the slaveboys followed meekly behind. A short walk took us through into a sumptuous dining room, panelled out in a dark hardwood. It could have been a normal rich person's room, except for the chains and cages that were dotted around the wall.

At the dining table sat two women, one in her early twenties and one in middle-age. Both wore expensive dresses and jewellery, and both had the same wavy dark hair and dark eyes. They looked up from their breakfasts and smiled when they saw me enter, then they pointed to a spot between them where I was to be made to stand.

I was pinned to that place by the security guards, and then had to wait while the women ate. The slaveboy I'd met the previous night attended to them, and the two men who seemed to live as pets crawled around on the floor, weaving under the table then back to their owners' sides. Real affection was shown - the women patted their heads, stroked their cheeks and even kissed the pets.

I just stood there thinking about how I looked. I was nearly indistinguishable from a girl, except for the bulge of my cock and its cage that was clearly visible through the translucent front of the knickers. I had been feminised and sissified, and if the pets were anything to judge by, I'd be expected to act the part. Everyone could see me, there was nowhere to hide, no escape looked likely, and there I was: the slave of my fantasies and my nightmares.

"Good morning, maid," said the younger woman, "did you sleep well?"

"Um, er, er, yes," I stammered.

"Address me as 'Princess Octavia', if you please. That's one demerit. This is my mother, who is your other owner - she wishes to be addressed as 'Queen Seraphina'. It was me that wanted a maid so it's mostly me you'll serve. Got it? Think carefully about your answer - each demerit is ten strokes of a very nasty cane."

"Yes, Princess Octavia," I forced out.

"Good sissy," she replied.

"Well, he really looks the part," said the girl's mother - Queen Seraphina to me.