Trained to Obey 2 Read online

  Kirsten’s face burned from deprivation, her tongue ached, her breasts and arms were wriggling with pains from what the Mistress had done to them, but still she could not help but find a deep sinister relish in her lot.

  A hand flashed backwards as the officer arched upwards with her spiraling ecstasy. The smarting backhand slap skimmed Kirsten’s breasts, causing them to erupt with mayhem. Kirsten cried out into the muffling loins, humming against them to vibrate the officer’s tracts and increase her owner’s gratification.

  The dominatrix moved forward and swallowed up Kirsten’s nose within her sex, riding her clit upon the ridge and stealing all hope of Kirsten gaining air. The deed was repeated again, her spanking hand punishing Kirsten’s squeezed flesh, the constriction having made them many times more sensitive. Each howl caused valuable air to slip the gauntlet posed by the woman’s suffocating hindquarters, bringing blackout closer in leaping bounds. Kirsten’s inability to service her owner was replaced as her face was ridden and the officer reaped her pleasure in the infliction of pain and distress and the steady gyration of her crotch onto the features of her bound possession.

  “Back to work, slave,” she mused, moving back a little so that Kirsten could snort and try and recover her respiration. With spots flashing on her eyes, her arms struggling against the body that kept them pressed into the sheets, she grimaced and mewled as fierce pinches clamped to her nipples, the brutality the officer applied countering all the absorbency of her living uniform.

  “I told you to do something, slave. Get to it or you’ll make me angry!” she warned.

  Kirsten’s tongue broke into frenetic effort, melting the atrabilious expression on her owner’s face and turning it into a slack smirk of joy.

  “Thaaaat’s better,” she sibilated, turning her holds on Kirsten’s teats, vastly increasing their distress. “Such a dedicated and helpful slave. So eager to please and so attentive to details.”

  The stockinged thighs pressed more tightly against Kirsten’s head, holding her in place as the woman swayed and rippled with pleasure. Pulling at her captured morsels the officer chuckled with happiness as she heard Kirsten’s muted croaks of pain prior to releasing the punished points.

  “Oh, I’m almost there, slave. Just a little longer. Keep that tongue working,” she groaned and Kirsten was chagrin to see the control box in her owner’s hand, her thumb scratching at the translucent tab that would rend her body with the most atrocious distress.

  “Yes! Oh yes! Slave! That’s it!” She croaked as Kirsten poured the flat of her tongue against the turgid clit of her tyrant, hoping to distract her from her obviously intended session of amercement.

  A soft click from the button send an obedient disturbance through her nervous system as the electrodes fed on her innate bioelectricity and misused it to punish her.

  Kirsten flew to a tensed pose, almost lifting the woman from the bed as her soul-torn howl echoed within the officer’s belly, her body alive with wriggling dissecting talons of agony.

  Spitting flickers of energy curled around the studs, kissing the air with brief voltage laps as their full might coursed through Kirsten, shredding her senses with their unbearable issue.

  The momentary touch ended and Kirsten sagged beneath her owner, her senses swaying to and fro from the effects of stark abuse, the bed seeming to tilt and rock as though she were on a ship abandoned in stormy seas.

  “No time for rest, slave! Unless you want another dose you had better get going!” Growled the woman, intent on achieving orgasm and accepting no failure from her property.

  Dedicating herself to her task, Kirsten fought to finish the woman before the implants were used again and delayed her further, prolonging the ordeal.

  The extra effort paid off and even though her tongue throbbed from over use and strain, the woman dropped the box and held to Kirsten’s face, smothering her within her flesh as she cried out onto the air, flailing within a storm of satisfaction.

  Kirsten kept her rate steady, fulfilling her owner’s wishes until she could withstand no more and was compelled to flop aside onto the bed. Cuddling her own body she gave reign to the odd nervous twitch, her body recovering from the intensity of her own private ordeal of elation.

  Kirsten closed her eyes and let herself breathe freely though her mouth, tasting untroubled air, the smell and tang of her owner still strong across her palette.

  She didn’t even hear the rustle of fabric as her owner shifted over. When she opened her eyes she beheld the calmed visage of the Mistress hovering above her and then closing in for what Kirsten prayed was a kiss.

  Their lips met and the tongue of the officer slipped forth to brush against Kirsten’s pursed lips. Instantly she complied, unable to believe that this was actually happening. With gusto she reciprocated, letting herself exchange a long and deep exchange with her oppressor.

  All harshness had vanished. They were kissing like lovers, their slow easy rate and casual attitude having left their roles behind for now.

  The hands of her owner one more touched her breasts, only now the caress was delicate and forgiving. The gentle rubbing of her nipples made them stand out against the living fabric and countered the pounding havoc from the breast bands. Cupping them on occasion she also let her exploration encompass the rest of Kirsten’s body, following her curves, relishing in the feel of another woman that she could attend without any defiance.

  Kirsten wallowed in the ecstasy of being her Mistress’ carnal plaything, in being treated with such calm serenity. She still hungered for the more savage ministrations of her owner, but this moment of tenderness between them was an utter delight.

  Kisses wandered down her neck, flowing onto the living material as the woman spoke with soft tones.

  “Such a beautiful pet,” she murmured, her arms entwining about Kirsten as she hugged her tightly, embracing her as kisses continued to adorn her bound body.

  “I love you, Mistress,” Kirsten uttered, half under her breath. The words were meant as a private thought but they slipped free in the haze of her intoxicated stupor.

  “And I love my sweet little pet,” she softly answered, keeping her feelings within the realm of their roles and tightening her cuddle by way of silently affirming their authenticity.

  It was a tremendous source of relief to know that even though her owner would train and abuse and torture her without pity or relent that there was a deep affection for her, maybe even true love. It felt wonderful to be owned, but it felt even more delightful to know that she was adored.

  The migrating passage of her owner’s lips started to descend further, wandering down Kirsten’s torso until they drew upon her belly. The Mistress maneuvered herself between Kirsten’s legs, holding them apart with grips to her thighs.

  Nibbling bites to the fabric started to gnaw and chew at it, the Mistress tunneling through the material that had attached itself to her pores. With ease she penetrated the region over her sex and forged an access point whereupon she began to service Kirsten with obvious enthusiasm, her tongue lancing into her possession and causing the slave to jolt and croak with utmost relish.

  “Oh Mistress! Thank you! Thank you so much!” she announced with jubilation as she was held down and subjected to sterling cunnilingus.

  The Mistress made no response and merely continued her work, occasionally pulling at the imbedded anal root to have Kirsten squawk and struggle, torn between discomfort and ecstasy. The manipulation of the anal insert brought her towards release with new haste and as she loitered on the verge, gasping, her mind boiling, the Mistress flitted the tip of her eager organ to Kirsten’s clit to finish the exquisite job.

  Kirsten screamed onto the air, howling more virulently than she had ever done under the torturing hand. The ongoing attention took her further into the regions of nirvana, rending her with bliss.

  Kirsten tried to beg her to stop, that it was too much, that she couldn’t take anymore, but she was to debilitated by the deed to even mouth a sy
llable. All she was capable of doing was bucking and hollering.

  The Mistress shifted back and wiped the moisture from her grinning lips as Kirsten went slack, quivering in spontaneous and brief paroxysms, her senses phased and reeling from the keen effects of the experience.

  “Did my slave enjoy that?” she asked.

  “Oh God yes Mistress,” Kirsten whimpered.

  “You like being my slave?”

  “More than anything Mistress. I love you. Torture me, abuse me, do anything you want to me, I’ll always worship you, Mistress,” she stammered, offering any excuse to justify her obsession with the dominatrix responsible for stealing her humanity.

  “You know that you are scheduled for some training now, don’t you, slave?” she asked gently.

  “If that is what you want for me, I’ll willingly endure it, Mistress,” Kirsten replied without pause for thought.

  “Good, slave. Just for that you get an extra treat,” she announced, running her digits along Kirsten’s thighs and then ferreting under the bed.

  The strap on dildo from their first encounter emerged into view, the ribbed jelly length set on its harness of leather. It was a piece of memorabilia from a long forgotten life.

  “You recall this, slave?”

  “Oh yes, Mistress. It’s the one you took me with on that first night,” she grinned, anxious to feel it pound into her once more.

  “Time for a reunion. A blast from the past, slave,” mused the Mistress as she started to fasten herself into the straps, the length bobbing and waggling with her motions, hypnotizing Kirsten with its dance.

  Grabbing Kirsten’s shoulders, the officer pinned her down and rubbed the pliant head of the toy against her dripping womb, slowly teasing her as she glared down at her suppressed servile.

  A single pelvic jolt cast the entire length into Kirsten, her tender loins bouncing upon the backs of the ridges and troughs, wringing another strangled cry of overwhelming sensation from her parched throat. The Mistress ducked in and swallowed up the cry with a kiss, locking her mouth to Kirsten’s and devouring her response.

  Riding the device into her possession, the woman continued their exchange, flitting tongue against tongue and lip, kissing her neck, suckling at her ears as the gentle glide of the harness served to pleasure her as well.

  The thrusting shaft once more brought Kirsten to orgasm, stealing her strength and leaving her slack on the bed, her eyelids fluttering half closed as the warm afterglow of relief trickled through her physique.

  The withdrawal of the dildo brought a tensed flash of response and then she eased back down into a somnolent state, half asleep, half awake, filled with lucid fantasies of what other acts would be inflicted on her by the dominatrix.

  After an uncertain period she felt herself being flipped over and her restraints removed, her arms and breasts churning with residual havoc as circulation was restored. Grinding her teeth she gave soft huffs of stamina as pins and needles struck her along with cramping storms, the arrival of freedom almost as heinous as the worst moments of captivity.

  “Time to go, slave. You have an appointment, remember?” said the Mistress, moving off of the bed and revealing that in the period of Kirsten’s apathy she had restored her previous latex apparel.

  “Yes, Mistress,” answered Kirsten, sliding from the bed and nuzzling at her boots, kissing the toes with genuine reverence as the Mistress smiled with satisfaction and applied the leash again.

  “But first I want to mark you more as my own. Would you like that?” she asked.

  “Yes, Mistress,” nodded Kirsten and from another cabinet the Mistress removed a piercing gun. The device held a thick steel ring, keeping it open to reveal a barbed arrow that would stamp into a slot in the opposite surface, irretrievably locking the circle to whatever portion of flesh was placed in the shadow of its lone fang.

  “Present your nipples to me, slave. Get them up and ready for some embellishments,” ordered the Mistress, checking over the mechanism of the device.

  Somewhat frightened, Kirsten obeyed and started to tease the peaks of her breasts, engorging the nuggets with soft caresses as she stared at the elegant latex form of her owner to reassure herself that she had to obey.

  “That’ll do. Now hold one of your breasts out for me, slave,” she demanded, making Kirsten willingly subject herself to the act of piercing.

  Closing her perpetually gloved hands to the smothered flesh she lifted it up so that the nipple stood distinct against the grafted second skin.

  The Mistress slipped the ring into place and held it for a moment as Kirsten fought to subdue her trembling lest the Mistress miss.

  A squeeze to the trigger brought a precise flurry of movement and the arrow point was fired through her breast and locked into place in a split second. Kirsten yowled and dropped to her knees, clutching the fiery peak that was her nipple. The anguish in her breast demanded that she tear out the source responsible for it, but she knew that would only bring far more grievous levels of suffering.

  Comforting the pulsating morsel she wept and shuddered, trying to recover from the experience as the Mistress stood impassively over her and reloaded the machine for the encore performance.

  “What do we say, slave?” she asked impassively.

  “Thank you, Mistress,” Kirsten whined.

  “Up we get then, slave,” she stated with gravity, bringing Kirsten to activity and back onto her feet.

  Shivering with dismay she lifted up her other breast, her eyes fixed to the silver hoop that bored through the black skin and transfixed her aching teat. Focusing her attention elsewhere she tried to remain oblivious to the event.

  A second snap filled her senses and the baleful insertion was repeated in full, dropping her back to the ground to cower and fight her way through the agonizing procedure of recovery.

  “There we are. All done, slave,” she announced, and Kirsten again kissed the woman’s boots with humble deference, holding her throbbing teats as she found herself strangely aroused by the fact that she had again been modified by her owner. He piercing had added another irretrievable stamp of ownership to her very body.

  “Thank you, Mistress,” she hoarsely whispered.

  “That’s quite all right, slave. Now up we get, we have work to do,” she replied, setting aside the gun and taking up the leash once more.

  Taken from the room and back into the passage of torture chambers, Kirsten was led across the grim corridor and brought to a plain door that slid aside at the Mistress’ presence, revealing a familiar scene - that of a young girl in agonizing restraint.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Outrageously punished by her imprisonment, Maria remained trapped beneath the overhead arms, the metal limbs tearing at her with their virulent clamps and no matter what she did to try and ease her suffering, the dragging nip continued to fill her most sensitive regions with vivid pangs. She wanted to use her powers to open the jaws and it would be simple to do so, but the programming had already worked its power on her, and even though she focused her mind to the task, nothing happened.

  The sight of the Mistress had her heart leaping with joy at the prospect of freedom and as she studied the elegant form of the sultry female she noticed the other Hound at her ankles.

  The creature that had saved her from the house was keeping itself in a crouch, the demeanor of this beast tardy as though all resistance had been expelled along with her strength.

  The Hound stopped beside her, regarding her with vigor, disdain, and anger that Maria could not fathom the source nor intensity of. They were mutants held together in captivity so surely they would have a kinship in this darkest of hours rather than such blatant animosity?

  Gloved hands set free the clamps and the woman savored her scowling cry as the terrible internal wells of mayhem leapt merrily into the compressed skin.

  With the clamps removed and the resulting convulsive fits of suffering fading, the bonds were unfastened and set aside, allowing Maria to slide
her frail form from the slab and slip onto her knees.

  “You may worship me with your tongues, slaves. Lavish thanks on me for training you,” aired the woman with a bold and aloof attitude that accepted no dissension.

  The trained Hound dropped forward and began to slaver upon the officer’s boots, lapping with some manner of dark delectation, her love of the task displayed by her shuddering limbs, clenched hands, and brisk attention.

  Unwilling to inspire retribution and with a faint longing to mimic such homage, Maria dipped forward and commenced her own coverage, lapping at the smooth panes and working her way up as her fellow prisoner closed her eyes and savored the supplication to the latex-coated limbs of the Mistress.

  Together they huddled at her feet, putting their cheeks to the boots with affection, their recent desertion and discipline having strengthened their attachment to her.

  Maria noticed the silver hoops set in the other Hounds breasts, embellishments she had not seen before because she was sure she would have recalled them. When the body jewelry caught her eye it made her stomach flutter with the possibility that such additions would be made to her own young form. They were fetching and frightening at the same time, dividing her confused psyche into two rival camps about how to regard them.

  “That’s enough, slaves,” the officer stated, moving from their attentions and to the walls, leaving their tongues saturated with the odd spicy tang of the material as they remained in meticulous attentive crouches, ready to serve their ruler.

  “Time for something new, slaves. I trust you will enjoy it as much as I will,” reputed the Mistress, producing two chain link leashes, which she attached to the pair, one to Kirsten’s collar and the other as a choke chain around Maria.

  Slipping both hoops of leather into her fist she tightened her hold and drew them out of the chamber and down the corridor to a box room. The new arena of discipline was illuminated by the flickering azure candescence of a plasma sphere in each corner. Such devices gave the humbled guests the accurate assumption that it was a hall devoted to the electrical arts.