Virtual Slavery Pt. 01

Matt's voice spoke within my head. "You're a slave now girlie. You do whatever your master tells you if you don't want to get zapped. That one should have been easy since it was a guy you knew and liked. But you'll also be made to fuck people that you don't want to fuck. Here's your first lesson for that."

The door opened again and another man entered. This body was clearly a much older man, grey haired, a bit of paunch, a not quite hard cock, his face - my father! I tried to scream but nothing came out. The image of my naked father approaching me with obvious sexual intent was confusing and terrifying and revolting. I tried to cover myself and back away on the bed.

Bzzzzz. The warning stopped me instantly. Snap! The collar's charge snapped my neck back. "Get to it girlie. You've got to do what you're told or you'll spend your life in pain. Go suck him off!"

[Don't be afraid. It's OK. Everything will be alright if I do as I'm told]

Without thinking, I moved forward to escape the pain. Tears were filling the goggles and running down my cheeks. I dropped to my knees in front of this cock surrounded by grey pubic hair. I looked up and saw his face, looking straight forward, a sad look in his eyes. But, the fuzziness under his chin reignited my mind. It wasn't really my father. It was another deep fake game designed to train me. They had also recorded my father's face at the hotel yesterday. I had to ignore what my eyes told me and put all of my faith in my mental understanding of the technology. I had to believe that what I was seeing was a lie.

"May I please suck you master?" I murmured. My father's face nodded yes. I struggled to raise my hand to take hold of his cock. The feel of his skin was disgusting - I almost started to vomit. But, I knew I must proceed to avoid another painful shock from the collar. I closed my eyes and forced myself to think that it was just another man's cock. I stroked it a few times and then put it in my mouth and sucked it.

[Mmmm. This is good. I really like to suck cocks. I'm getting aroused.]

"Look him in the eyes slut!" Matt's voice insisted. I opened my eyes and saw myself sucking my father's cock. My stomach heaved but I kept it down. My love and respect for my father was being used to train me to submission. The cruelty of the act was beyond comprehension. I cried openly as I took the erect penis into my mouth and licked and sucked. He grabbed my head and thrust forward as he moaned and shot his cum into my throat. My mind was overloaded and no thought was possible.

Matt's voice drew me back to reality. "OK, girlie. You got him off so we'll hold the fucking lesson with him for another time." The older man left the room and I was left with my confused thoughts. I was taken back to my cell and left with a bag lunch. The wall monitor showed the current time as 12:30 and my next scheduled "Class" was set for 2:30. I ate the simple sandwich and fruit and laid down on the bed in the fetal position. I had now been a slave for 24 hours and had my self-confidence, my self-awareness, my-self ... totally shattered. I couldn't begin to imagine what the next 364 days would do to me. I drifted into sleep, aware only of a small ringing sound.

The next few days continued training in various sex acts. There was a video for each act and the trainer served as the "partner" for it. They were always quick to point out mistakes and sometimes used the collar to emphasize their displeasure. But when I didn't make mistakes, and performed well, they smiled and went on. I began to feel proud of earning those smiles.

At night, I cried myself to sleep and then dreamed of home and Paul and freedom. But, each morning, I was slammed back into the reality that I had none of those things. Over time, my dreams changed. They became more sexual and I sometimes woke up to find my body very aroused and wet. I would then pleasure myself to relieve the desire.

Coming out of one of those dreams, I heard a voice in my room:

[I am very aroused. I need to give my master pleasure. Pleasing my master will please me. I want the joy of using my body to please my master.]

It was the same voice that I heard during the day when wearing the headset. But its messages were more overtly sexual - and arousing.

*****

[It's time to wake up. I must always be ready to please my master.]

The morning voice was calm, but insistent. I learned to jump from my bed, wash, eat my breakfast and get on my knees to greet that day's trainer.

"Hello 110. I'm your trainer Ashley. You always have to have yourself ready for your lessons on time. Are you ready now?"

"Yes, mistress." I quickly replied.

"Come along then, you have an important lesson today." She applied the handcuffs, clipped a leash on my collar and led me back to the administration building, Training Room 3 this time. She had me kneel on a pad, facing a large video screen.

"Your master has requested some special training for you that most slaves don't get. That includes special lessons about men. This isn't about their dicks or how to please them. This about who they really are. And we have a perfect lesson for you. Watch these videos and then we can talk about what you've learned."

I was in no condition to start philosophizing about men. I knew that my entire existence for the next year would deal constantly with just one aspect of them - their cocks. I made no comment and waited for her show to begin.

The large video screen appeared in front of me and I was shown a series of commercial TV shows about men and women cheating. I had seen such shows before with titles like "Real Housewives of ..." "Pleasure Island". They were usually crude setups where attractive young people pretend to be in love and in lust. Then they add some drama with cheating and cuckolding. In the end, the stupid women always get mad at the inevitable infidelity. Almost none of the men are faithful.

After running several episodes of those shows, another video started with a view into someone's bedroom. Probably a woman's bedroom given the nice furnishings and fluffy duvet on the bed. "This was filmed the day you became a slave, about nine hours after you were picked up by TSM." Ashley explained. A man and a woman entered the room from behind the camera and walked toward the bed. When they got near the bed, the woman turned around to face the man and the camera. It was Tricia, the TSM person who had come to my party and helped take me away the day of my enslavement. That brought back bad feelings.

She smiled at the man and said "You're ready to go all ready? It sure didn't take you long to forget about her."

The man approached her, took her in his arms and started to kiss her - passionately. Her arms were stroking his back while his hands slid down her back and cupped her ass. The sound wasn't clear, but the liquid sounds of passion and moaning were understandable. After only a minute of making out, Tricia stepped back and began to unbutton his shirt. She quickly yanked the shirt off of him, revealing his smooth, muscled back. The shirt seemed very familiar.

They kissed again and his arms were moving, struggling to remove her blouse. She giggled and stepped back again to let him pull it off and expose her naked chest. Her full, firm C cup breasts stood proud. The man immediately bent lower and began to suckle one nipple and then the other. Tricia rolled her head back, obviously enjoying his mouth work on her boobs. She moaned and pushed her breasts harder into his face.

When the man stood up to catch his breath, Tricia quickly reached forward to undo his pants. He put his hands on either side of her face and his talented mouth over hers, muffling her giggles. His pants and underwear dropped to the floor, revealing his well-formed butt.

"Very nice equipment you've got there," she smirked. "Now turn around and let me see your beautiful ass."

The man turned around, facing the camera.

It was my husband, Paul!

I gasped. He was smiling and obviously aroused. His cock stood straight out, hard and dark, dripping pre-cum. He continued turning to face the woman again and stopped to let her enjoy the view. She seemed very impressed and quickly reached for her own pants and they fell just as fast as his had. After a quick swipe of her hands to peel off her silk panties, they were staring at each other's naked form.

I immediately thought about the deep fake videos of Josh and my father, but this was not like that. His hair was the color and style of Paul's. His body had the same size and musculature that I had loved for years. It was his shirt. It wasn't a fake. It was my husband.

Paul lunged forward, pushing her onto the bed on her back. She scooted up the bed and he followed on his hands and knees - his cock and balls dangling between his legs. She spread her legs, exposing her pussy and inviting his assault. "I want you now," Paul roared with a deep, animalistic voice. He lined himself up with her slit and smoothly penetrated her opening. They both moaned deeply. I moaned in despair. I knew that my slavery might eventually make him look elsewhere for pleasure. But nine hours!? I had begun to accept that my body would be abused for a year. But this scene destroyed any hope of a later life with Paul. The inner voice agreed:

[I am a slave now. My former life isn't important anymore.]

I watched his ass repeatedly clench as the two lovers fucked for a few minutes. Her legs wrapped around his thighs and pulled him in deeper. The passion in their breathing and the intensity of their moans built to an almost violent climax. His hips thrust mercilessly and her body convulsed as they both screamed through their orgasm. They continued to hump for a minute and then slowed to rest. He fell to her side and they whispered to each other. They were totally drained of energy. I was drained of hope. The video ended.

[I am a slave now. My former life isn't important anymore.]

"What did you think of that?" Ashley queried. "Any lessons there for you?"

I shook my head and tried to stop the tears falling from my eyes. I understood what they were doing. They wanted me to give up my past life and give myself totally in submission to my new master. I could not hold onto any love for my husband. I could only fuck whom they told me to fuck. I accepted that too.

After taking me back to my cell, Ashley let me know that videos of all of my lessons were available on the monitor on the wall at any time for me to review. Homework, I guess.

For the next several days I was "taught" many more lessons. The trainer Ashley returned often and I learned the finer points of cunnilingus. The augmented vision through my goggles labeled every part of her vulva and directed me how to spread her outer lips and coax her clitoris out from under its hood. I learned her taste and how to sense her arousal by the amount of liquid dripping from her. She once went down on me so that I would appreciate how much pleasure could be delivered by a skilled lover. But, she stopped just before I could cum.

Another female trainer named Georgi seemed more butch and was much more demanding. She insisted on being penetrated by a large dildo while I flicked my tongue on her clit. During our second session she insisted that I also lick around and into her anus. I didn't like rimming, but learned to accept it along with all of the other disgusting aspects of my new life.

[I really want to please my master with my body.]

The lessons with men were consistently horrible. The men with the largest dicks rammed them down my throat and made me gag and almost pass out while blocking my breathing. They would most commonly bind me to a wall or other devices in the training room in order to expose my crotch and allow for the deepest penetration. Humiliation was a large part of their technique and it had the desired effect on me. I was ashamed and fearful and submissive.

I was also deeply aroused. I remembered the phrase "sexual responsiveness is medically enhanced" in the TSM brochure. Any inhibitions I had regarding sex were wiped from my mind. I realized that I was being turned on by my submission to the masters. Humiliation and fear triggered a nervous response in my belly - that sent a bolt of energy straight to my pussy. I was no longer responsible for my actions if I just did what I was told. I began to enjoy being submissive to my trainers.

We had a group class once. A sales rep from a sex toy company came and spent the day demonstrating their products. There were six slaves in the room, but we were commanded not to speak to each other. Our bodies were used for the demonstrations and I had my first experiences with butt plugs, large dildos, ball gags, blindfolds and various whips and paddles. It broadened my horizons about the range of possible pleasures available to a master - and me. I actually enjoyed some of them.

The cruelest trainer was Matt. Under his domination, I was often forced to be the main act in threesomes and foursomes with men and women. Matt was always sure to be part of the action. He eventually introduced me to anal sex when he and another man double penetrated my body at the same time. I felt that I was being ripped apart between my legs. All of the men in my lessons were crude and uncaring. But, I always tried my best to bring them to climax while suppressing my own. That's what being a slave means. During sex sessions my inner voice would remind me:

[Don't come yet. He isn't finished. I can only have my pleasure when the master allows it.]

During my second week, I was trained how to act when in the presence of free people. Eyes down, hands behind the back, big smile when instructed to perform any sex act. One surprising morning, when my trainer opened the door to the training room, it had become the lobby of the Excelsior Hotel - filled with people. I was embarrassed when they pointed at me and laughed and made rude comments as I walked around the room.

My trainer was making comments in my head, telling me to smile and try to please the people. One man told me to bend over the back of a nearby couch. When I hesitated, my collar shocked me and the trainer told me to obey. The man then walked around and proceeded to fuck me from behind. When he had finished filling me with his cum, the room suddenly flickered out and I was back in the training room. It was the trainer who had fucked me. Their virtual reality had been very real for me.

After the second week, almost all of my sexual lessons were with women. They weren't as cruel as the men, but did test me. I learned how to accept penetration from a strap-on dildo - and to use it to penetrate others. The muscles in my tongue became much stronger and I could continue licking a woman for an hour without cramping. I was a little proud of that.

One evening, I received a very surprising message on the monitor in my room:

"56727110, your owner has been monitoring you and is pleased with your progress. They have authorized TSM to open the window in your room each day for three hours (11:00 AM to 2:00 PM) to allow you sunlight. If you continue to obey all trainers and submit to their commands, your owner may grant you other rewards. If you disobey or hesitate to respond to any order, you will be punished and any rewards will be canceled."

Once again, I was dumbfounded and confused. Where is there a window in my room? How did my owner monitor me? Why was I being given any reward at all since I am a slave to their wishes?

I answered the first question quickly. I examined my room and saw a white panel covering part of the white ceiling above my head. Was it covering a window? The thought of seeing daylight and feeling the sun on my face seemed like heaven. Yes, I would certainly obey my owner's wishes in order to enjoy that reward.

The second question was also easy. I had seen the cameras mounted all over the building - and in my room - and had assumed someone could watch me. Was my owner there at TSM, watching the video feed? That excited me. I desperately wanted to learn who now owned my body and my life.

The third question took some more effort. As a slave, I expected to be closely watched and punished whenever I failed to please the trainers or my owner. I had plenty of painful experiences with that rule.

But now, I was being rewarded for doing what had been asked of me - totally outside my understanding of a slave's world. But more thought, and a memory of the TSM brochure promising "The slave's views of themselves and their world are formed/manipulated ..." led me to the answer. This was simply the positive reinforcement to offset some of the negative. Psychology 101.

I understood completely the next day when the window opened and sunlight poured in from a blue sky above me. It instantly warmed my body and my soul. I was so grateful to my owner for the mercy that I just kept repeating "Thank you, oh, thank you". In the following two weeks, I received small rewards when I performed well. They made me feel proud of my slave skills. I was happy to submit to such a considerate owner.

*****

One day during lunch break, while alone in my room, I struggled to comprehend all that had happened to me. The male trainers had just humiliated me and degraded me while they "trained" me to endure spanking of my boobs while suspended face down from a rack. Without realizing it, I said out loud "Why are men so terrible? How can I keep enduring this?"

[Because that's how men are. A slave must be strong and think only about pleasing her owner. Peace will come with serving them.]

I shook my head. Instead of just repeating platitudes about being a good slave, the voice had responded to my verbal question. I waited for more, but heard only silence. "What is going on?" I asked.

[It's important to remember that most men are cruel and selfish. Personal happiness can only reliably come from serving the owner.]

More confusion in my mind. I was talking to the voice. "How can a slave ever be happy?"

[An owner always protects and cares for their slave. A slave is safe with her owner and takes her own happiness from pleasing the owner.]

"But a slave can't be happy - she's a slave."

[Slaves do find happiness once they forget their former life and embrace the satisfaction of pleasing others. Giving and receiving sexual pleasure and earning the approval of their owner are both wonderful sources of happiness.]

"Who is my owner?"

[That information is not available.]

I didn't say anything. The inner voice had become much more than just second thoughts. When Ashley allowed me to speak that afternoon, I asked her about the voice.

"Oh, that would be SlaveChat, our AI. It monitors you all the time and gives suggestions and helpful information. It can sense your emotional state from sensors in the headset and can judge the condition of other people near you from the video images. That's how it knows when you or your partner is nearing orgasm and can manage you to maximize pleasure for the partner. You can start a conversation with it anytime you are wearing your headset by just saying "Hey Shiva."

I had heard of chatbots, but had never interacted with one. But this fit the other aspects of TSM's business. They promised to make a slave submissive without physical violence. It seemed to be working.

After three weeks of daily training I felt that I had reached the point of accepting my slavery. I endured the physical abuse and maintained some of my old self mentally. But the betrayal by Paul on the day I left shattered my ability to be anything but a submissive slave. If he didn't care about me, how could I care about myself? My only purpose in life was to please others - was that me or the inner voice?