Training Ch. 01


Samantha set down the clipboard and stepped to the table. With a single quick motion, she tore the paper gown open, exposing Eileen completely. Two more quick motions and the gown lay in shreds on the floor. Eileen shrieked.

"You may scream, if you like," the doctor said mildly. "Did you notice how thick the door to this room was? This particular room is entirely soundproofed. I do all my initial evaluations here."

He crossed to one side of the examining room, and drew a long white curtain from the wall. "Now, you will not be permitted to watch the next part of the examination." He pulled it across a track in the ceiling, until it divided the room in half. The curtain hung directly over Eileen at mid-torso, draping across her body, preventing her from seeing him. She heard the sound of a zipper, followed closely by a rustle. Warm hands touched her thighs.

His voice drifted through the curtain. "I am now going to begin my initial evaluation of the subject's response to undesired forcible sexual penetration." His hands moved up her thighs.

"No!" She struggled desperately, felt something press against her between her legs. Then, in one smooth thrust, his cock impaled her deeply. She screamed and threw herself violently against the straps. The nurse moaned.

He raped her roughly, violating her with a barrage of hard, deep thrusts. She screamed and twisted; tears poured from her eyes. "No! No! Stop!"

His voice, as calm and reasoned as ever, came through the curtain. "Nurse, are the subject's nipples erect?"

Samantha stood over her and leaned forward. Eileen saw with a sickening sensation that the nurse was flush with sexual arousal; her nipples stood prominently against the starched white uniform. She reached down and slid her hands over Eileen's breasts. Eileen screamed again and tried to will herself to sink down through the table, away from the indignity of another woman's hands on her body. She wept and struggled, desperate to escape the humiliating touch.

"Yes, Doctor." The nurse's hands groped and fondled her. "The subject's nipples are very hard. I think the subject likes this."

"No!" Eileen shrieked. "No! Please! Please, please..." Her voice dissolved into sobs.

On the other side of the curtain, the doctor thrust even harder. "Nurse, please clamp the subject's nipples."

Samantha withdrew some small objects from her pocket and leaned over again. Eileen felt something bite savagely into her nipples, and screamed again. Fresh tears flowed. "Please! Please, you're hurting me!"

"Yes," the nurse moaned. Her hands caressed her captive's breasts, stroked her shoulders. "And you look so beautiful this way." Her fingers combed through Eileen's long black hair.

Eileen thrashed and cried, long sobs wracking her body. The doctor used her roughly, violently; his fingers dug into her thighs. Pain radiated from her nipples, spread across her body, wound tightly in her belly. The tingle returned, urgent, became a burning need, coils of fire deep inside her.

Then, something within her exploded. The violation, the pain, her humiliation and shame, that strange butterfly feeling inside her-it all became too much, unbearable, and in the instant when she could no longer bear it, it changed, became something new. Her screams changed, too, and wave after wave of agonizing, excruciating ecstasy slammed through her. She arched her back off the table, trapped in the enslaving grip of the most intense orgasm she had ever known.

When it was over, he withdrew from her. She lay naked and sweaty, bound to the table, crying softly. Her body shook with her sobs.

He drew back the curtain and removed the harsh metal clips from her nipples. New pain spiked through her breasts, drawing out a sharp gasp.

"Nurse, please make a notation that the subject reached sexual orgasm from being raped."

Samantha drew her hand away from her breast. The way this new patent writhed and screamed, her tears and shrieks of humiliation and ecstasy, had nearly made her come. She picked up the clipboard, forced herself back into composure. "Yes, Doctor."

He turned to stand near her head, and with one foot, activated a control that lowered the head of the table. He held his foot on the switch until her head was considerably lower than her feet. "Initial questioning of the subject suggested a strong aversion to oral-genital sexual congress. I will now evaluate the subject's response to forcible oral sex."

Eileen whimpered and turned her head away. "No," she sobbed plaintively. "Please..."

He placed two fingers on her cheek and gently turned her head toward him. She did not resist; the will to fight seemed gone from her, burned away by the shame of her orgasm. He moved his gloved thumb along her lips, parted them, pressed it into her mouth. She tasted latex, and tried to turn away, but her strength had left her. He pushed the pad of his thumb against her bottom teeth. Her mouth opened.

"Good," he said. "Just like that." He stood over her and raised the dripping head of his cock to her lips. "Hold still."

He thrust his hips forward, and his erection plowed into her mouth. She gagged and choked, overwhelmed by its width, by the heavy, musky taste of her own fluids, by the round head at the back of her throat. He withdrew very slowly, then just as slowly pressed back in, forcing the length of his rigid cock into her mouth until she choked again.

She sputtered and tried to turn her head aside. He grabbed her chin tightly and pressed her head down against the table, then slowly, relentlessly, forced his cock deeper. Her struggles grew frantic, and she gagged as her throat worked against the invasion.

He slipped partway out, allowing her to catch her breath. Tears streamed down her face; she tried to say something, the words muffled and indistinct. He pushed in again, until she choked once more, then remained there, his cock at the back of her throat, as she struggled and wept.

After a long moment, he withdrew partly again. His grip tightened on her chin, and he began to move in steady, rhythmic strokes, each just a little too deep. She gagged and coughed on every stroke. The nurse watched with rapt attention; her hands slid over her body as she touched herself openly, flush with sexual arousal. The humiliation of the nurse's obvious arousal deepened Eileen's shame, and she squeezed her eyes closed and whimpered around the shaft violating her throat.

The doctor grunted once, the only outward sign of his climax. His cock throbbed and pulsed, and suddenly Eileen's mouth was filled with thick, hot, salty goo. She gagged anew, and her stomach heaved. He held her head tightly and forced his way deeper into her mouth. His cock twitched at the back of her throat, spurting warm creamy semen; her throat worked automatically, and she blanched, sickened by the knowledge of what she had just swallowed.

The cock in her mouth continued to gush. She sputtered and cried as he raped her mouth, filled it completely with his ejaculate. Then, finally, he withdrew, his shaft already softening. She made a wet gurgling noise. White come oozed from the corners of her lips, flowed down her cheeks. She coughed and wept hot tears of shame and disgust.

The doctor pulled up his pants, re-buttoned his lab jacket. He smoothed his clothes down and turned toward the nurse. "I am now ready to construct a preliminary program. If you please?"

She nodded, poised her pen over the clipboard as he pulled up the chair and seated himself. He leaned back and folded his arms. "My preliminary analysis is that this subject is suitable for training as a sex slave, though there are outstanding factors that suggest this will be a challenging case."

His voice was calmly professional, betraying no sign of the way he had just violated the woman on his table. Eileen sniffled and shuddered. How? How can you do this to me, and be so calm about it?

The nurse wrote quickly as he dictated. "The subject is highly resistant to basic sexual acts and appears to have emotional barriers which might interfere with her new role. These barriers will require nontrivial effort to defeat. A normal course of training will likely be insufficient for this subject. It is my understanding that the subject will soon be taking an extended honeymoon; this period will likely be most critical in developing both the attitudes and the skills necessary for her role as a sexual slave."

Something in his voice, in the way he said these words so calmly, made her breath constrict. Her role as a sexual slave... He was serious, he meant it. He was talking about enslaving her, as casually as he might talk about the weather. The subject. She was just the subject, not even a person, merely an object. An object for sexual use. Her belly tingled.

He glanced over at the naked woman strapped to the examining table. "The subject reached orgasm from being raped. After this orgasm, the subject became significantly more pliable. While my normal recommendations for the training of a new sex slave involve orgasm denial, which can help create a state of arousal that assists in furtherance of the training, in this particular case the subject should be brought to orgasm as a regular part of her training activities, so as to keep the subject more compliant."

She squirmed and whimpered at the words. So as to keep the subject more compliant... He was recommending that her fiancée, the man she loved, rape her! Repeatedly!

The tingle grew stronger.

"The subject shows heavy resistance to oral and anal use. In this case, the resistance to anal use is complicated by the development of the subject's sphincter muscles, which will preclude a conventional regimen of anal training.

"I am recommending an initial two-week course of very heavy sexual training, to be carried out while the subject and her owner are out of the country for their honeymoon. During this period, I recommend a minimum of three training sessions per day. During each session, the subject should be brought to orgasm. Each session should also include forcible oral penetration, preferably with ejaculation in the subject's mouth, as well as anal probing. The purpose of this part of the training will be to make the subject accustomed to physical sexual acts." He paused. "Nurse, include a set of seven anal probes, from size 0 to size 6, in this subject's training kit. These probes should be used over the period of the subject's initial training to acclimate her to anal penetration."

Forcible oral penetration, preferably with ejaculation in the subject's mouth, as well as anal probing. The words horrified her, repulsed her, and the tingle became a raging fire. Heat spread through her body, and the muscles of her vagina contracted sharply. She arched her back and screamed as the feelings consumed her, pain and humiliation and objectification wrapped around and entwined within something else.

"Nurse, please make a note that the subject experienced a spontaneous orgasm while listening to the proposed training regimen." He rose from the chair, stripped off his gloves. "I need to prepare for the afternoon's last patient. I will leave you to take a sample of the subject's blood, enter the subject's training program into the computer, and administer the subject's medication. Also, please schedule another appointment for evaluation and adjustment of the training program upon the subject's return from her honeymoon in two weeks. Thank you."

He left; the thick, heavy door closed behind him. The nurse turned and smiled at Eileen. "Well, it's just you and me now. How's that?" She moved briskly, removed something Eileen couldn't see from the tray. "Let's get you properly drugged here." A tearing sound, the cool wetness of an alcohol pad on the inside of her arm, then a sharp, sudden sting. Eileen flinched and turned just in time to see her move away, an empty hypodermic needle in her hand.

"What...what did..."

"Don't worry. It's just a mild sedative, with a little something to suppress your memories. In a little while, you won't be able to remember the last hour or so. We don't want to spoil the surprise on your wedding night, right?" She stood over the table and looked down, a smile on her face. Her hands brushed Eileen's face.

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "right now, I can do anything I want to you." Her fingertips ran lightly down Eileen's neck, caressed her shoulder. "Normally, I'm not supposed to interact with the patients in any way that might interfere with their training. But you..." Her fingers traced the curve of Eileen's breast. "Soon you won't remember anything about what I'm doing. So I could do whatever I liked, and I wouldn't get in trouble for it."

Eileen quivered, too spent to cry. "Please," she said hoarsely. Her vision swam; she felt lightheaded, disconnected. "Please don't hurt me."

Samantha laughed. Her hand left her captive's body. "I'm not going to do anything to you. That can wait for later. I just wanted you to know that I could."

Her voice seemed to fade as she spoke. A heavy fog seemed to roll in over Eileen's mind, making understanding difficult. Eileen struggled to focus on what she was saying; she felt that there was something wrong, something she should be doing, but she couldn't seem to quite grasp what it was. Everything felt far away, detached, as though it were happening to someone else. The woman became a dim presence, somewhere on the periphery of Eileen's awareness. Something soft and wet touched her face; what was it? A towel, that's what it was. The woman was washing her face.

The fog thickened. The woman was still talking, her voice indistinct, unintelligible. She barely noticed the sharp sting when the nurse drew a vial of blood from her arm; even when the woman unstrapped her from the table and helped her dress, she could not focus on her surroundings. As she stood, the room shifted around her; the nurse put a hand on her back to steady her. "That's it. Take your time, sweetmeat. You're going to be woozy for a while."

She led Eileen out of the examination room and down the hall to the waiting room, helped her sit in a chair. "Wait here. I'll be right back." She left her patient, moved to the glass partition. "Meredith, can you do me a favor and type up this patient's training program? Also, set up a return visit in two weeks. I need to go put her kit together."

The receptionist smiled brightly and opened her appointment book as the nurse disappeared back behind the door. Eileen sat alone, trying to recall where she was. Was there something she should be doing? Someone had told her to wait; that's what it was. She was waiting for something.

She heard people talking in the distance, sensed vaguely that they were doing things. Something to do with her? She felt that it was, but she was not sure what, or how.

She felt like she must have dozed for a moment; the next thing she knew, the nurse-what was her name again?---was standing beside her with a compact leather case, a little smaller than a briefcase, but thicker. "Here you go. Take this." She pushed it into Eileen's hands; Eileen stared at it blankly. "Give it to your fiancée. And here's your reminder card for your next appointment."

Eileen shook her head, but the cobwebs wouldn't clear. She took the case and the card mechanically. Behind her, she heard the front door open. What was she waiting for?

"Ah, there she is," a voice called out. A familiar voice... She furrowed her brow; the shadows lifted slightly. Anthony! That's what it was! She was waiting for Anthony to come and pick her up.

He hugged her briefly, kissed her on the forehead. "So how did it go? Did she give you any trouble?"

The nurse laughed. "No trouble, but you're going to have a lot of work to do with this one. She's not going to be an easy subject." Something about the word "subject" reminded Eileen of something. What was it? She had the feeling she'd heard that word used that way, if she could just clear the fog out of her head.

"Her preliminary report is in the case, along with some additional items you'll find useful. The doctor would like to see her when you get back from your honeymoon for a followup evaluation."

He nodded. "I'll make sure she gets here." He turned and offered Eileen his arm. "Shall we go?"

She leaned heavily against him and let him walk her out to the car. Rain fell; the steady patter on the roof of the car soon lulled her to sleep. Her dreams were filled with vague shapes, standing over her, doing uncomfortable things to her, always remaining just out of her reach.


The next three days were a whirlwind of chaos. Wedding guests poured in from all over, the majority of them friends of Anthony's. Her family flew up for the wedding; her mother immediately took a liking to Anthony, and gushed approval at every opportunity. "He's so handsome! And what a provider! He will take great care of my little orange blossom." Even her father, who tended toward cynicism and often distrusted the bulk of humanity, warmed up to him, when they discovered a mutual love of hunting dogs and antique cars.

Eileen herself spent the days buried in last minute details. She worried over the fit of her dress, obsessed over the catering, agonized over choices of music for the reception. Anthony indulged her with good humor, reassured her that things would be fine, and generally stayed out of her way.

Occasionally throughout the days, strange shards of images would flash through her head, almost too quickly to identify. Vivid lightning flashes of helplessness and shame accompanied them, always gone before she could capture them.

Several times during the next two nights she awoke gasping from the same dream. In it, she was lying peacefully in her bed, alone, when the mattress beneath her began to ripple and heave. Arms erupted from it, groping and flailing; strong hands seized her roughly, pinning her down. More arms burst out of the mattress and grabbed her ankles tightly. They pulled her legs apart violently, easily overcoming her struggles. Hands sprang forth all around her, as if the bed itself had come alive; they tore at her clothing, ripped it to shreds, left her naked.

The bed writhed beneath her. A huge, blind tentacle, hideous, head dripping wetness, tore through the sheet between her outstretched legs and writhed in the air; she shuddered in helpless horror when it touched her leg and slid up her thigh, seeking her sex, leaving a trail of slippery wetness on her skin. The monstrous thing coiled around her leg and hung there for a moment, quivering, poised to strike.

It sprang with tremendous speed and precision, striking directly at her most intimate place. The hands held her tightly as the great, thick tentacle impaled her, buried itself deep inside her. She opened her mouth to scream at the violation, and another tentacle, just as large as the first, sprang forth from the bed above her. It dove unerringly toward her face, slid deeply into her open mouth, choking her in mid-scream.

The two tentacles thrust in synchronization. She struggled in the grip of the clenching hands; they spread her legs wider, allowing easier access to the tentacle buried in her. She tried to scream; the tentacle in her mouth forced itself farther down her throat. Still more hands grew from the undulating mattress and flailed in the air for a moment before they found her breasts. They groped and squeezed roughly, their skin leathery against her; clawed fingers pinched and pulled her nipples.

The entire bed shook violently. The tentacles rammed into her, fast and hard. She could do nothing save for shudder in dread as those thick, serpentine appendages began to throb and pulse.

Suddenly, simultaneously, both tentacles erupted, spewing great quantities of thick, milky fluid like fire hoses. She shook, helpless, as warm wetness gushed into her, poured down her throat...

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