Trained to Obey 1 Page 13

  Even though she was dedicated to this goal, keeping herself applied to it was difficult, her willpower flagging the longer she was held in this drastic position. The hours started to trail by, the fleeting instances of punishment having exhausted her totally, leaving her ready to sleep but unable to acquire it while bent over the harsh furniture.

  Chapter Fifteen

  With an abrupt culmination the lights and sounds cut off, leaving Kirsten to settle into a pained ball as the sphere ceased its eternal rolling even though still she was convinced that it was in motion for her equilibrium had been brutally scrambled over the unknown duration of her confinement. The room still twisted and span before her eyes, plaguing her with the sickened nausea that had arose soon after the Major had deserted her.

  When the lid opened she was too exhausted to even move, the sleep she had gained in the ball being shallow and fitful.

  “Out,” commanded the officer, causing Kirsten to squirm in the pit, trying desperately to move but unable to act, her legs failing to respond to her frantic commands.

  “I said out, slave!” She repeated tersely, still unable to get Kirsten to comply. She tried with greater vigour upon hearing the savagery in the woman’s voice but her calamity could not defeat her lethargy and so she still languished in her cell.

  Striding away, the Major returned with a short strap, which she patted into her gloved palm with diabolic menace.

  “Perhaps this will get you out,” she hissed and leant in to apply the leather strip to the prisoner.

  “No, Mistress, don’t! I can’t move! I’m stuck, Mistress! Please, show mercy!” She sobbed, trying to explain the source of her disobedience.

  “Did I consent for you to address me?” She uttered gravely.

  “No, Mistress,” wept Kirsten.

  In answer to her confession the strap fell with sanguinary force, spurring Kirsten into squealing and renewing her attempts with greater conviction, battling to make her crooked legs defeat their stiffness and operate as normal. Her bruised limbs stretched out and flailed loosely over the edge, leaving her torso within as the strap attacked the freed flesh. Wriggling recklessly she cried out against the assault, sobbing uncontrollably, having been too indoctrinated to actually attempt speech. She wanted to beg for a cessation to implore for mercy, but the programme of reconfiguring her mind had already torn away the possibility of committing such a crime against her gorgeous malefactor.

  The beating stopped and the woman stepped back, wiping a few trails of weaving sweat from her brow, a slight dew sparkling across her cleavage.

  “Well, if you are so fond of that little prison, then I shall leave you in it awhile longer, slave.”

  The words were a damning imprecation that drove Kirsten insane with jeopardy, unable to face the prospect of yet more time sentenced to this tiny hell.

  “But perhaps a little addition will help your education,” she considered, and vanished from Kirsten’s sight. When she reappeared it was with a swollen black phallus of corrugated rubber, the leviathan seemingly forged from a series of black rubber hoops. The base flicked out clusters of rubber nodules and two metal shackles.

  The crotch strap was opened and the woman pulled it up and away, dragging the inflated balloons out, punishing her as they started to stretch her wider and wider. Kirsten burbled and wept, fighting to endure, levying her muscles to them to assist in ejection. But the Mistress merely let go just before they reached their widest diameter, placing responsibility for their ejection solely on Kirsten.

  “Come on, slave, you can get them out if you try,” she smiled, folding her arms to watch Kirsten’s berserk exertions.

  With a strain she sought the last millimetres that would cause them to pop free but they were just too big. With her face crimson from toil, Kirsten vent a despairing mewl as her body failed her and her tracts gulped the terrible orbs back in, swallowing them in full.

  “Oh, such a pity. You almost had them out, slave,” she commented and again the Mistress started to pull on them.

  “Maybe this time,” she added, bringing Kirsten almost to the point of freedom, her sex and anus churning with the effulgent tempest of absurdly stretched flesh.

  “There you go, all yours, slave,” she said, releasing the toys and leaving Kirsten to endure the harrowing ordeal of throwing her devotion to them and then being foiled as she lacked the strength, causing them to roll back in and swell her innards once more. Kirsten wailed her misery as they slithered in.

  “There there, slave. You’ll manage it eventually,” said the officer, stroking Kirsten’s naked thighs as she lay splayed in the open bowl. The woman’s hand grabbed the strap and started to slowly pull, savouring the deed as she watched the bloated black balloons gradually emerging from Kirsten’s insanely dilated orifices.

  “Pleeeease, Mistress, oh they’re too big. I…I…” she began, her words becoming lost as she was forced to grit her teeth, the width of the emerging orbs bringing more distress than she could stand.

  “Hnnnnn!” Hissed Kirsten, her face aflame, her senses dizzy as she fought to spit them out when the officer let go. “Oh, oh god, nooooo!” She howled when they were once more devoured by her innards.

  “We’re really going to have to train these holes to be tougher than this, slave,” tutted the woman. Snatching the crotch strap she drew them all the way out, the last portion that Kirsten could not handle causing her to buck and scream before they popped from her tortured tracts.

  In the wake of the crotch strap the fetters were applied to her ankles, locking them together as her legs were folded back within. The head of the dildo touched her sex, the dark length slick and dripping with lubricant. With a demanding shove the Mistress leant her weight to Kirsten’s ankles, using them to shove the rod in. Kirsten jerked to attention and flailed in the bowl, still unable to get out. The creation hauled her open to a terrible degree, filling her with the ridged shaft, bouncing her tracts on it until the small spines were pressing into her.

  The lid was fastened tightly down and she regarded her tormentor with a frantic longing, a tear-flooded stare that was totally ignored as she strode from the room. Kirsten tried to get the accursed toy out, her pudenda pulsating from the stringent violation. But when she kicked out, she only gained a small measure before the ceiling of the ball stopped her, causing the dildo to ride against her and stop before she had any hope of getting it out. Her muscles clenched to it, trying to regurgitate the rest but the toy was too stiff to accommodate her desperate wishes.

  The closure of the door restarted the lessons of her new stature. The ball began to roll, throwing her against the studs that scratched and the hairs that itched so hideously. And now, as her body rose and fell, falling about the close interior, the dildo was shoved into her and drawn out, the relentless tumble causing her to drop onto it and add to her ordeal.

  The speakers boomed out, telling her how worthless she was, that she was only fit to obey her owners, that her handler was a superior whose will she was to acquiesce to without pause, who she was to worship and adore. The words told her that mutants were evil, that only through obedience and suffering could she gain redemption, that she deserved no better. And as this litany of hatred and subjugation bored into her thoughts and stamped its sour footprint upon her subconscious with indelible clarity, the wild plethora of lights and colours kept her awake and disorientated, confusing her senses, preventing any resistance to the indoctrination from forming. There was to be no denial of this reshaping of her options and beliefs, it was inevitable and she was only bringing more pain upon herself for trying to hold it off.

  Perhaps if she had been more vigilant and passionate in her quest to stand against these racist scum, she might not even be here. When the Human Rights representatives had started to canvas her area she had ignored them, thinking them harmless racists, that no one would be stupid enough to listen to them. But then they had started to spread. Posters started to go up. Meetings were organised. More and more people
had been drawn into its web of prejudice.

  Pro-mutant wings began to open up to combat their adversaries, fighting to counter the lies and exaggeration being used against all mutants. But many had suffered as she had suffered and were hesitant to affiliate with an open mutant group lest they expose themselves as mutants and draw the derision and distrust of their co-workers and loved ones. This left only those who were obviously afflicted by warped gene strands or who had the courage of their convictions to stand up and resist. The fact that most pro-mutant activists were visibly different only seemed to give the Human Rights Party greater strength, the blatant alien quality of those that dissented bringing them openly to people’s attention and drawing their mistrust and outright revulsion. Stores started refusing to sell to known mutants. Vigilante groups took to the streets to protect against mutant terrorists and criminals who according to the media and the Human Rights Party were rampant and merciless. Gangs of monster bashers began to corner local mutants, beating them senseless or even killing them. If their victims resisted and used their abilities in defence there always seemed to be a camera on hand to capture the image and use it as an illustration of the mutant penchant for criminal undertakings.

  She should have stood up. She should have done something to combat the rising ill feeling. But like so many others she just hid herself away, looking out for herself, intent only on making sure she remained uninvolved and hoped it would all blow over on its own or with the support of the pro-mutant factions.

  The leaders of these groups started to be arrested, exposed as drug dealers, thieves, sex offenders, adulterers. To her it was blatantly obvious that they were being methodically set up, yet to the average citizen such scandals simply proved that mutants were as twisted and debauched in mind as they were in body. The belief that mutant genes made one prone to anti-social excess became standard and strong.

  Local elections started to be won over by Human Rights candidates. This led to Knights of Genetic Purity outposts springing up like tumours across the country, their bastions of hatred enlisting the untamed, raucous mobs that patrolled or ambushed, the thugs easily swayed. Once taken in their indoctrination was flawless.

  Kessler’s rule had begun to gather momentum day by day and it was then that Kirsten had realised that negligence and complacency had just cost mutants everything they had. She moved suddenly, setting herself up in a city in which there was no one she knew and then sealing herself away, making all the preparations to thrive without ever having to open herself to the seething loathing without. She had no one to leave behind, no one to miss her, for even though her parents tried to retain the semblance of love it was clear that they were succumbing to the doctrine and were questioning their daughter’s every action from the day she was born, turning ordinary childhood events into acts allocated to mutant subversion and inherent evil.

  If only she could have her time over again. To have raised her voice, to have been a normal bodied mutant standing up for her basic human rights, maybe it could have made a difference, maybe it would have spared her this nightmare. Perhaps she deserved this fate because of it. Maybe her lack of certitude was being punished appropriately because as she had settled herself in as though under siege she had let others suffer and die for their mutual cause, fighting for those like her as she failed to even recognise their efforts.

  Her inaction had aided the enemy and now she was being prepared to fully take an active roll in their assistance. It was ironic that she had not helped mutantkind and was now going to be turned into a tracker and murderer of them. The disgrace she felt and the shame of becoming what she knew was inevitable ate at her viscera and it was this more than anything that made her will to rebellion flag. She had already damned herself through her actions and there was no way for her to atone for her many grave felonies.

  Without warning the dildo broke into activity, retracting back a short way and then pumping into her as the entire surface shivered with intense oscillations. The spines at the base thrashed with thrumming vibrations, ones so intense that when they brushed her vulva and clitoris they were too shocking to endure, making her kick out to avoid their touch. The sheer bliss of the thrashing toy was tempered by its size, her womb having to grow used to the size before she could gain any real pleasure from it. But slowly the pounding insertion and retreat and the shuddering surfaces started to work her towards orgasm. The words of the litany flowed through her mind as she dwelt in nirvana, drinking of the underwear and her bondage, her body unable to move as she tried to stretch and writhe. The hot tide of climax drew ever closer, her legs fighting to straighten out from the vexing folded pose.

  Suddenly the toy stopped, deserting her at the point of release. Kirsten flashed to attention, her eyes jolting open as she roared her outrage. This couldn’t be, she needed this too much to be denied. One pathetic hint of pleasure in all her agony, was that too much to ask? Thrashing against her cell she only made her ordeal worse, the hairs and studs, the tight containment ripping at her psyche as the speech continued to educate her in her furious fit of anger and panic.

  Finally she calmed herself and simply chose to remain slack, sobbing quietly as she rolled endlessly over. Then the toy began again, grabbing her senses and bringing her up through the heady folds of bliss, onwards to final release.

  “Oh please god, no! Not this! Anything but this!” She cried out, unable to bottle up her sheer mortified anguish. She was going to be kept frustrated, teased endlessly and always denied, made to squirm and enjoy her captivity before the cruelty of denial, and all the while her libido would be ever swollen, increasing her hunger, making her more susceptible to her training.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Dawn crept up on her swiftly, the sun falling across Maria’s legs and stirring her from her indolent torpor with its warmth before the dazzling rays entered her eyes and awoke her fully.

  The bonds were still secure and the fleeting notion that she had dreamed the entire sordid entrapment fell away in a cascade of shattered hopes. The lengthy imprisonment was driving her mad, the perpetual gnawing boredom and frustration eating at her reason with a frenzied longing. The gloss fabric was an impermeable shell that denied her sweat an escape route and the dampness her ordeal was cursing her with lingered beneath the material like an insidious spectre, the dwelling of this trapped moisture against her skin bringing with it a barrage of cramps.

  How much longer would he hold her in this outlandish pose? Already large sections of her limbs were numb and senseless, all feeling having been stripped from them by the cords and her twisted posture. Would the duration have impeded circulation long enough to cause permanent damage? Had this maniac crippled her with his lust for bondage pursuits?

  For long periods she had been straining to use her latent powers, her capacity to move objects merely by thought was minuscule, almost absent, but Sarah had been teaching her the basic precepts to increase it. On a good day, with a lot of concentration she might be able to move a penny a few inches so the chance of aiding her situation with this minute influence was a stupid plan, but one that helped distract her from her travail.

  The day exploded across the skies with a sudden burst of golden brilliance, flinging aside the few paltry clouds of morning to reveal itself in all its ardent splendour. The warmth of the dawn increased steadily, forming into a heat across her PVC-wrapped flesh, the burn of the piercing rays filling her twin hides and adding to her discomfort.

  The door swung open and her captor strolled in. Wandering past her with a blasé attitude his hand absently reached out and stroked her presented belly, the soft artificial skin smooth to his touch and polished to a glittering sheen. Letting the digits wander further he treated himself to a caress of her breasts, kneading the soft, plastic covered cleavage with a self-satisfying relish.

  “Mmmm, hard to believe you’re a mutant,” he murmured, airing his private thoughts as though she were not a true sentient being but a possession incapable of independent thought.

/>   Grabbing the crotch rope where it crossed her navel he gave a few teasing tugs, making it grind against her clitoris and wring further weak whimpers from her sealed mouth.

  “Now, let’s get you out of these bonds.”

  Merry digits played at the knots, systematically setting free her flesh, the long forgotten concept of movement leaving her to languish upon the chair until he closed a fist to the crotch rope and drew her forward. Her spine gave several moist crunches and she gasped as she collapsed into a warped wreck, her body too accustomed to one position to accept another so abruptly.

  Her back throbbed as he set aside the instruments, leaving her unable to resist him as cast open her legs and lowered between the splayed limbs. With a weak pawing motion she tried to deny him, her arms doing little more than causing a pleasing caress as the PVC sheathed palms grazed his torso. She stiffened suddenly from the act of being penetrated and from the frantic savagery of his assault, her legs pushing out, the heels snagging the carpet and blocking her efforts, her enfeebled muscles unable to defeat even this slightest anchor. Grabbing her biceps at the meeting of glove and uniform he squeezed and pinned them down, holding himself up by pressing down on the flesh.

  Maria cast her head from side to side as she struggled to get out from under him, the only sight that filled her gaze was his leering countenance as he rode atop her.

  The clamping hold on her arms became even more unbearable as he climaxed, his fervour making spasming flushes run her limbs when he filled her rear and then dropped atop her, as though he had ejaculated all strength and vitality from his entire form. Lost in shock beneath this dead weight, she breathed in stuttering wheezes, her features shrivelling into a sneer as he drew free of her womb and lifted himself back onto his feet.