Trained to Obey 2 Read online

  Jessica continued until the slave could take no more and vented a cry, her mental grips snapping to let the prickly instruments sheath themselves in her once more with a painful stab.

  “Has my slave learned her lesson?” she asked, having achieved her desired goal.

  “Yes, Mistress,” sobbed the girl.

  “And that would be?” she asked, tightening the pinches even more and watching the girl’s face shrivel into a tight scowl.

  “I have to obey you, Mistress.”

  “Have to?”

  “Want to, Mistress! I’m sorry, I want to serve you, to obey you. I shouldn’t try to escape and I won’t, not anymore, Mistress,” blurted the girl, the prospect of losing her reprieve because of this mistake making her livid with panic.

  “I suppose that will do for now,” she said and moved away.

  After drawing out the shafts she released the weeping slave from her suspension. Once restored to the floor the girl clasped her fervid orifices and gently held her bruised breasts, her mind and sanity in tatters.

  Jessica had the naked form kiss her boots with pious reverence and then drew her up to one of the poles that had served to bear her aloft. Pushing the slave’s back to the vertical length she raised the trembling wrists and affixed them high over her head before attaching the ankles to the base of the column, fully immobilizing the prisoner but giving her plenty of slack so that Jessica might watch her struggle and be entertained.

  Bringing forth a tube of transparent gel, the implacable Mistress donned a set of surgical gloves in front of the wide-eyed prisoner.

  “Time for a new lesson, slave. Are you ready?” she asked, snapping the veneer of latex into place and then lacing her fingers with menace.

  “What…Please, don’t! Mistress! Mercy! I can’t take anymore!” she mewled, pulling at her restraints.

  “Sssh, slave. Just relax,” she purred and began to smear the viscous sludge across the bound frame, coating her with a thin layer of highly conductive ooze. The girl trembled beneath her hands, torn between the fear of what was being planned and the delicate pleasure she found in being massaged.

  When she came to the slave’s loins Jessica worked the gel into her womb and rear with steady movements, making the violated captive jerk at the delicious treatment being applied to her sore innards.

  “Mnnnnh! Mnnnh! Mmm!” she whimpered, biting her lip to try and keep her words in check. “Mmmmistress! Stop! I’m lubricated enough!”

  “What makes you think I’m going to be inserting anything in these virgin little holes?” Jessica calmly stated, idly working her bunched fingers into the tight hole.

  “But you sa-aaaah! Oh! Ow! Ooow!” began Maria, her words being broken off as the Mistress spoke and applied more of the gel so she might force her hand deeper.

  “Slave, you are far too talkative. You need to learn silence, or maybe you just want to earn yourself more punishment. Is that it, slave?”

  “No, Mistress, but—”

  “There you go again, slave. You don’t need to be so afraid. Once I’ve finished training you you’ll be a happy pup at my heels. You’ve had a bad experience - men. No real concept of how to manipulate a woman…or a girl. You’ll be grateful soon enough. In fact you’ll love your slavery as much as my other Hound,” she decreed, rising up and tossing the tube aside.

  Taking hold of the gloves she ripped them off and sauntered to the wall, arming herself with equipment from one of the myriad hidden cabinets. Turning about she skulked within the gloom and presented the fresh device.

  The slave’s eyes bulged with horror as she saw the instrument of her primary atrocious education. The officer held up a modified electric shock prod and flipped the activation tab, causing the twin prongs atop the truncheon-like device to erupt with crackling arcs that wove between the discharging tips, casting back the shadows with a fierce and cold cyan light. The crackling light revealed Jessica’s sadistic leering grin as she watched the girl thrash and fight against her bonds, tugging her whole body against the cuffs, kicking at the fetters, trying to find a way in which to get loose.

  “You have plenty of energy to struggle, slave. Let’s see if we can’t add a little more,” she stated flatly, strolling calmly back into the light.

  “Oh god no! Pleeease! I’ll be good! I’ll do whatever you want!” she wailed, the prod wafting before her, issuing sporadic bursts of voltage to make her weep and sag in despair.

  The terrified scream as it bobbed closer became a yowl of agony when the head of the weapon ducked in to touch her thigh. The girl jolted against her bonds, writhing insanely as her oiled body was ravaged by scathing energy. A moment’s recovery was granted before the tip fleeting touched a nipple to make the peak livid with mayhem.

  Jessica methodically applied her instrument to sensitive spots, places where the nerve endings would bellow their fury with more clarity.

  Again and again the rod touched slick skin, punishing the squirming frame beyond all hope of endurance. The slave’s squeals began to crack under the strain, developing into a hoarse croak from over use, making her seem even less human to the Mistress’ callous gaze.

  “You mentioned penetration, slave. I think that’s a wonderful idea. Thank you for suggesting it,” she smirked.

  Having stayed her hand up until this point, Jessica could resist no longer and pushed the tip into the slave’s pussy forcing the baton up into her possession until the point could migrate no further. The slave murmured pitifully, detecting the intention but lacking any vitality to resist or plead for clemency.

  “First, a little treat perhaps,” she commented, and with a salacious leer began to ride the device back and forth, gently violating the hapless captive.

  Operating the makeshift phallus with expertise, Jessica watched as the girl began to writhe upon it, her body shuddering from pleasure as she was forcibly ravished.

  “Tell me you want to be shocked, slave. I want to hear you ask to be trained,” she offered with a soft and enticing tone.

  Maria could not reply, the bliss of being penetrated was insufficient to have her actually asked to be internally electrified.

  “Tell me, slave,” again asked Jessica, lifting her other hand to start to tickle her slave’s roused clitoris. The baton was moving easier now, natural lubricant having started to merge with the conductive gel.

  “Tell me,” she again asked as purling moans of rapture slipped from the girl, her chest rising and falling as she was lost within a tempest of delight.

  “Come on, slave. Let me hear the words,” she asked, and she smiled as Maria’s eyes flitted shut and her trembling lips began to move. Instantly she accelerated her work, the sudden escalation of rhapsody jarring loose the damning request.

  “Oh train me! Please train me, Mistress!” she hoarsely announced, scarcely aware of what she was doing.

  The device hummed and the captive found superhuman animation as she went into paroxysms of such vigor that she contorted her slender form into untidy knots, her limbs twisting and turning, seeking to break free as she was assailed from within. With a final crescendo of painfully high pitch the slave suddenly went slack, drooping until she hung indolently from her chafed wrists, the sheen of gel now watered with a wash of fevered sweat.

  Jessica felt for a pulse and as she suspected the girl had merely fainted. Switching off the prod she drew the implement out of the tract in which it was embedded and began to untie the enervated slave.

  Already she was starting to swim out of her coma and although she needed rest, Jessica was in no mood to let her true sleep be an easy one.

  Dragging her to the wall, Jessica drew a slab of metal from waist height and laid the limp form upon it. After securing the captive’s wrists, neck and ankles with seamless metal hoops that spilled from the slab and locked back into it, she pulled out two poles from above.

  Emerging a meter above the supine body, one shaft lay over her belly and one lay over her breasts, their underside lined with small h
ooks to accommodate whatever paraphernalia of torture was intended.

  Taking out three clover clamps the Mistress snapped the diabolic devices onto each nipple and onto the tip of her prisoner’s clitoris before drawing up the slender wire attached to them and connecting it to the poles hovering above. The extended metal arms were sturdy and after taking in all slack and a little extra they remained steadfast, keeping themselves anchored on their designated morsels.

  The hold of the clamps was all the more severe because of the pull that made them bite harder and only by lifting her abdomen or chest could she hope to lessen the pain. As weariness set in the task would prove one of frustrating difficulty.

  Jessica sat down on the edge of the slab and crossed her legs, tightening her thighs with arousal as she let her hand drift upon the young celestial form before her. To have gained two such prize specimens was superlative luck.

  Caressing her with tenderness in the moments where the girl could not detect this lapse in brutality, Jessica allowed herself to indulge her senses with the feel of the bound captive. Unable to hold back, she opened a cabinet, grabbed a battery fuelled magic wand and nestled the massaging bulbous head of the device between her splayed thighs. The shivering vibrations poured readily through her attire and made her lounge back with euphoria. With one hand stroking the toy to herself, the other explored the tortured and enslaved body beside her.

  Already intensely aroused by the session she was biting back her croaking cries of rhapsody in moments, doubling over and clutching desperately to the wand, trying to hold it in place as she fought to endure the exquisite and intense orgasm.

  The girl was still unconscious when she finished and Jessica wanted to see her reaction when she discovered her predicament. Setting aside the toy she took a few moments to recover her panting breath, her body feeling languid in the warm afterglow of climax.

  To awake the wretch she drew a pernicious crop and took a firm grip as she surveyed the captive. With all her considerable strength she slashed into Maria’s thighs, stirring the girl from stunned torpor with a scream of shock.

  Jessica laughed with amusement as the girl began to discern the quandary in which she lay. Her eyes bleared eyes became wild as she tried to break free of the pinching holds on her tender skin, her body shivering as the heat of the stroke gave way to the numbing assault of the clamps.

  The Mistress’ mirth ebbed as the intercom issued a dull chorus of pips, calling her to duty and away from her prime passion.

  “Hold this for me for a moment, slave. If it comes loose, you know what will happen,” she warned with a scowl of disappointment and she arbitrarily pushed the handle of the crop into the slave’s anus, wheeled and left the pupil to her unrelenting fate.

  Chapter Thirteen

  With a lour of strain Gary ground his teeth and squeezed his breath through clenched jaws, the sudden bursts of prickly stabbing pains from the application of a bandage to his forearm making him quiver.

  “There, all done,” Anna announced, already packing away the first aid kit with her spare arms.

  Tenderly drawing his sleeve back down over the torn strips that served as a poor replacement for genuine gauze he lifted his wiry frame up and shouldered his newly acquired assault rifle. The random fire from the jeep had only grazed him but he had been the sole person hit, so he felt resentful of the fact that he alone had been singled out by fate for injury. With irrational bitterness playing merrily with his thoughts he watched as the last of the crates were broken apart and hidden in the bushes.

  After having used the last projectiles for the stolen grenade launcher and a single shotgun cartridge the group had proceeded to strip the trucks and the dead. Loading up on weapons and explosives, they quickly guzzled their fill of rations and then pocketed another quantity to last them for the journey. Their scavenging had barely lasted minutes before they set charges and destroyed the truck to hide their reaving, and forestall knowledge that a mutant band was equipping itself for conflict.

  Once the remaining truck was shattered they broke and scampered back into the darkness, merging with the forest to avoid any reinforcements.

  After dividing the cache of arms the others were either hiding or disposing of the rest and readying to move towards the base in a wide arc, the longer route designed to hopefully throw any trackers.

  Gary believed that storming the base was a ludicrous concept, one that would surely get them all caught or killed. But then again he also did not like the idea of leaving his comrades to face the foul realm of the KGP bigots without his backup. He was fiercely torn between his powerful motivations of self-preservation and a nibbling guilt at leaving them to their fate.

  The group would have surprise on their side but would it be enough? His confidence was a little stronger for the resounding success of the ambush. It had been flawless. The KGP hadn’t even known what hit them. The only blotch on the event was his paltry injury. But were they good enough to take the base? If there were other mutants held there they would surely be seasoned guerrilla fugitives like themselves. Such additions to their group were exceptionally valuable and more than worth the gamble of this attack.

  Despite his reservations it had felt glorious to watch the Knights die and see them perish in flames. He had forgotten how sweet revenge tasted, and with the nectar of this sensation still prevalent on the palate of his soul he was eager for more.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The fabric of Kirsten’s being felt as though it had been reduced to a lumpy pulp. Every inch of her was raw and battered, the flesh responding ever more aptly to the monstrous hug of the fabric. The shower washed away her tears of despair, her grizzling cries as the process renewed being metamorphosed into croaking screams and hissing gasps of impaired respiration.

  The frantic tugs of her limbs had left her loins contused and sore from the wrench of the crotch band between her legs. Her muscles were ragged and torn, the overexertion of her frame against the stalwart bonds leaving them useless.

  The deluge of withering rain ended and her frame dripped with excess until she managed to shuffle it off, the drips being set loose mainly from her pained vibrations rather than any conscious effort.

  Slowly the suit began to open its atrabilious arms, letting her breathe more easily, her flesh aching as the fist let go and let her slouch upon her noose. Kirsten burbled meekly against the echoing voice that demanded her obedience and assured her of how worthless she was, how she was flawed and needed to be trained to gain redemption through service to her physical and mental superior.

  With a soft hiss the doors slid apart and the chorus cut out. Opening her heavy eyes she saw through her fogged vision and beheld the seraphic image offered before her. The darkness of her torture chamber made the dim light of the room without wreath the officer in a halo of dazzling luminescence, causing Kirsten to whimper with awe.

  Totally sheathed in a layer of impenetrable gleaming shadow the Mistress wore a tight fitting dress, the sleeves of which opened onto smooth gloves. The high collar was trapped beneath a studded choker and the short skirt rode over latex leggings that in turn flowed beneath knee high boots, the gloss material laced down the front and set with a dagger heel. Again, at her side was the control box, the device poised to shred Kirsten with duress should she disobey.

  “Has my slave learned her lesson?” she quizzed, putting a hand out to massage the midnight material of her slave’s skin and run a finger along the bumps of the studded lines. “Well have you?” she repeated, Kirsten being too tired to gather her response.

  A pinch to her hidden nipples made the flesh smart as the applied strength overcame the cushioning effects of the organic hide.

  “Yes, Mistress! Yes, I have! I won’t disobey again, I swear it!” blurted Kirsten, screwing up her face and issuing the heartfelt words with celerity.

  “I’m going to grant you the benefit of the doubt, slave. But betray this trust and I’ll make all you have endured thus far seem trivial with the punis
hments I’ll inflict,” she warned, reaching up and unfastening the bonds that kept her aloft.

  Her legs were dropped to the floor, the flesh cursed with discomfort as they changed from the eternal suspended pose. She quickly used them to take the weight from her neck, easing the havoc being applied there. The single sleeve was unfastened and detached from her collar, her emerging arms flapping weak at her sides, left languid by the long containment of her anatomy.

  With the removal of the collar Kirsten toppled like a felled tree, striking the cold steel with a harsh smack, the impact on her bruised flesh making her unleash a croak of shock.

  Languishing upon the floor, she remained listless as the Mistress began to unfasten the other bonds, setting her limbs free of the restraints and then commanding her back onto her knees.

  Delirious with sleep deprivation and the rigors of a crushing and suspended embrace, plus the near drowning of the many storms of fluid, only the need to obey allowed her to rise up once more and slip into a humble crouch at the side of her owner. A leash was then swiftly applied.

  “Follow me, slave,” stated the officer, patting her fondly before turning and striding from the chamber, the light refracting upon the wrinkles of her jet shell and mesmerizing the depreciated slave.

  Kirsten’s adoration of the Mistress was at a fanatic peak, her love for her tormentor raging. Even though she had been the agency responsible for her suffering, Kirsten felt grateful for having been set free by the woman, looking on her as a liberator, an angel of mercy that had delivered her from her terrible incarceration in the shower cubicle. Kirsten yearned to just topple forward and smother the woman’s legs in kisses, to serve her in any way to show her gratitude.

  Entranced by the haunting fetishistic apparition before her, Kirsten did not notice when she was led into a new room at the furthest end of the corridor. When she saw that she was in a bedroom she gasped with astonishment and closed her eyes tightly before opening them to verify that she was indeed seeing the truth.