Trained to Obey 1

by Bruce McLachlan

  The slave arose slowly and folded at her middle, presented her naked rump for attention.

  “Spread your legs wider, and take hold of your ankles,” she demanded, causing the girl to instantly comply, offering up the cheeks of her rear and the backs of her thighs for methodical targeting.

  Taking a stern grasp of the thin implement, Jessica drew it back like a springed joint and with the application of all her strength she swung the tool in to smack it across the proffered flesh, the cane instantly drawing a vibrant weal and making the buttocks ripple.

  Four of her harshest strokes failed to make the girl move, her need to obey overwhelming her natural response to the bite of the weapon. Another three were added, the last gaining a slight quiver but little else. The girl was ready.

  “Good slave,” she remarked, noticing tears running down her face, her breath uneven from the grand trial of enduring the beating. A weak smile emerged across her lips as she regarded Jessica, accepting her hand and placing a single humble kiss upon it.

  Using the collar and a leash, the slave was taken from the chamber and to the initiation room. Sashaying down the passage, her rubber skin slick upon her, Jessica gave soft tugs to the chain links, relishing the feel of the naked humble woman at the other end following diligently behind, obsessed with the alluring form controlling her so methodically.

  The room itself was not a large place, its duties being rarely called upon because of the extensive time it took to prepare or rather break a slave. A single sunken vat occupied the centre with controls and monitoring stations situated in an adjacent booth. Two metal crosses with copious trammels rose to lean against the wall, two pneumatic guns hung nearby, the weapons akin to riveting tools. A heavy chair, like a barber’s but with numerous added restraints lay beside them with a range of strange implements hung across its back while a number of cylindrical flasks adorned the shelves upon the walls, each one holding a dark ragged root in yellow fluid.

  The slave was unmoved by the sight as she was taken to the side of the vat and laid face down, her stockings removed and her legs splayed apart with the nudge of Jessica’s pointed boots. The girl was truly submissive now, broken down by the indoctrination and by the depths to which Jessica’s cruelty had taken her.

  With the captive locked into this position by fright, Jessica took down one of the flasks and after setting it aside took up a pair of long surgical gloves. With savouring haste she slid her hands into the tight sheaths, clenching them into fists to relish the feel of the thin latex stretching over her knuckles.

  Unscrewing the lid of the jar she took up the large root, its tendrils dripping with the sustaining fluids as she shook free the excess and brought it to the slave’s rear. A soft murmur escaped the girl’s lips as the eldritch item was introduced, the bizarre nature of the ordeal shocking her dazed senses as fingers controlled her slack orifice and made it amiable to the entry of this warped creation. Forcing it deeper, the black plant slipped into her and began to ride onwards, facilitated by the slick yellow slime of its cultivation, loosing itself in her tracts as she shuddered from its clammy and chill passage. Still she did not speak.

  Slipping her fingers from the slave, Jessica guided her into the vat and held her slave’s head up with a fist applied to her hair. The moment the nude form sat down, two panels slid automatically from the side, emerging just below floor level, closing at her neck, the small aperture there accommodating her throat and trapping her body inside.

  Leaving what seemed to be her slave’s disembodied head upon the floor, Jessica proceeded to the control station and after scanning across the readouts to check that all was in working order she activated the mechanism. Immediately, a warm thick sludge began to fill the inner chamber in which her slave had been trapped, the viscous fluid rising up around her ankles, flowing forth to fill the vat to her neck, her body being completely submerged. The captive moved about, churning the liquid, feeling a terrifying tingling upon her skin as she fought the drag of the treacle, afraid of the unknown, confused but unable to disobey by speaking without permission.

  Jessica spied the fright prevailing across her face and emerged to reassure the faithful pet. The latex-sheathed form of her oppressor towered over the diminished prisoner, the girl’s gaze set at ankle height and looking up a mountain of dark impermeable skin.

  Removing her jacket to expose the latex bra she wore, Jessica cast it aside and put her hands to her hips, glowering down upon the tiny form far below—so powerless before her will.

  “There is nothing to fear my pet,” she stated. “A layer of engineered living tissue is being cultivated across your skin. It has some of the properties of a plant, and is exceptionally durable and tough. It feels like latex but can seal any cuts and damage like a living thing. The root will grow and affix to this layer and feed it, keeping it alive and healthy, digesting your waste so you need never leave it. Your new skin will remove sweat, dead skin, faeces, everything, and as the root grows into your innards, it will anchor itself there and can never be removed.”

  The girl looked shocked, horrified, but could clearly see that resistance or complaint was futile. Fresh jewels of sorrow began to form in her eyes.

  Without word Jessica removed a gag from the collection of tools behind the weighty chair and returned to crouch before the submerged form, the latex of her tights creaking as she lowered before the terrified features of the girl. Pushing her fingers into the prisoner’s cheeks, the jaws parted without resistance and accepted the large solid ball as it was forced in. Closing the buckled strap tightly about the back of her slave’s head she cupped the captive’s chin and lifted her tear-filled, humble gaze from her legs and into her eyes.

  “It will take a day to establish the layer, then I will return then to finish the procedure,” she announced, and rose to leave the slave to her inexorable fate. The sight of her was proving too distracting. Jessica’s need to relieve her sexual tension was becoming overwhelming. Once the slave was in her skin, then she would be removed from at least some temptation. Kirsten would be even more compliant once she had been transformed, and then perhaps Jessica could let herself be more indulgent with her slave. Until then she needed to stay clear headed, and that sultry innocent form was making it difficult to stay in character.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Kneeling on the floor beside him, Maria held the tray as motionless as she could. Watching him eat, bearing the tray with its cargo of condiments and drinks as though she were an inanimate table, he seemed barely aware of her presence, treating her as though she were truly a piece of non-sentient furniture, his attention locked upon the television.

  A deep grumble emerged from her own starved stomach, the frugal measures he allowed her being insufficient to keep her hunger placated. The famine was serving to make her more amiable to performing as required for her meal, either through carnal acts, fellatio, or in demeaning acts such as auto-eroticism or begging like an animal, all of which she had done of late to gain the most meagre nuggets of sustenance.

  Setting his emptied plate on the tray he stretched out along the couch and reached forth to absently twist her nipples, his arbitrary sadism making her pant through her nostrils as she sought to endure his harsh play. The pinches made her wince and the tray wobbled unsteadily as she fought to keep her balance.

  With a slothful pull he opened the zip at her mouth and drew out the saliva-sodden cloth, setting the rag aside and indicating the leftovers on the plate.

  “Set it down and you can feed,” he permitted, but as she reached out to take up the dish, the cane leapt into his palm and danced twice on her arm.

  “Feed like a dog!” He spat with a smile.

  Settling back with glee to watch her lower with arms wide and lap at the meal, cleaning the plate with her tongue as it strained out through the metal cogs of the zip, his sense of amusement had him radiate his joy at depreciating her thus.

  “Now, how about something to wash it down,” he muttered with wicked se
crecy, the signal of a zip lowering making her heart sink.

  Settling into an upright position he beckoned her forward and closed his palm about the nape of neck, guiding her mouth down onto his erect penis, the sight of her under his power rendering him fully erect.

  Lounging back he returned to staring blankly at the television as Maria complied with his demands and began the required act. It was more strenuous than usual because he kept stopping her as he neared the point of climax, letting his lust retreat so that he might savour the long build up once more without the culmination that would end his fun.

  Residual whiplash began to send out prickly riots through her neck, the muscles pushed to tolerance and beyond, her neck aching and weak from the constant rocking motion.

  After what seemed like hours of this constant stimulation he ascended to a point where he could not be denied and closed his eyes in delight, letting her continue unopposed before he growled and tensed. His soft murmur of ecstasy was accompanied by the revolted gulps of Maria as she downed his issue and wept with self-pity at the injustice of her lot.

  As though she were no more than a toy to be discarded after use he pushed her aside and set his feet up on her back. For several hours she was deployed as a stool, her body gradually going numb as her blood flow was subjected to the tourniquet of her folded limbs and the bite of her tight uniform.

  The weight on her back came away and with a push to her hip he rolled her onto her side where she flopped like a stranded turtle, grimacing in her mask as the assault of pins and needles bounded through her starved tissues.

  “See to the dishes,” he ordered, and ignored her presence as she gathered up the cutlery and plates from the meal and carried them to the kitchen.

  Escape was a paramount concern to her, but sealed within the uniform and without any other clothes available to her she had no way to move unnoticed back into the wilds. In her current garments she would be picked up in seconds, and horrendous as this perverse confinement was, it was nothing compared to life long servitude and slow demise in a Sanctuary camp.

  Performing the last of the washing up she set the final plate aside and hauled off the rubber gloves that had protected her PVC ones. The delayed realisation that she was out of his vicinity and not gagged struck home and she turned her appetite to the fridge. Listening for sound of his movement within the next room she slyly opened the small door and felt the cold wash of air slip over her legs, revealing the array of succulent foods on offer. Taking only from sources where she could rearrange them and conceal her theft she began to lightly scavenge, the delight in the tastes fleeting as she stuffed them down and gained only a cursory moment of relish before the hazard of being discovered forced her to gulp it down half-chewed or swallowed whole.

  The door swung open and her jaw fell agape as she turned to see him brazenly exposed within the portal, a wide and monstrous smile dwelling on his lips, a strap in his hands.

  “I knew you would do something like this. So you’re hungry eh? Well I’ll teach you to thieve from your superior!”

  Wilting as he stomped forward she lifted her hands as a shield to defend from the first blow, only to have one of the protecting wrists grabbed and used to haul her up onto her feet. Cowering, she was held firm and a chair swung into the backs of her legs, folding the joints painfully and dropping her into the seat.

  “Please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I—”

  A backhand slap span her face aside and filled the cheek with a deep throb.

  “Keep quiet!” He rumbled.

  Opening a drawer he removed a bundle of washing line rope and began to tie her down, using coils to pin her shins to the chair legs, to fasten her waist and chest firmly to the back, with her arms laced together and affixed down the back. With Maria fully and comprehensively restrained he tugged at various strands to ensure she was held tight and took out his belt to affix it tightly around her head. The leather strip closed around her brow and formed an anchor that accepted a rope and hauled her head painfully back before connecting to the rear of the chair. With her face lifted up and her mouth held ready for attention he turned to begin his task in lustful earnest.

  Removing tin cans from the cupboards he started opening them, preparing a huge menu. Thinking him ready to begin cooking the foods she was unperturbed as he started rummaging in the drawers again, only to have him lift a peg and a short, wide section of sundered pipe, the stubby rod being brought to her lips. The peg clipped her nostrils shut with a harsh pinch and his fingers dug into her cheeks with increasing strength, breaching her maw with main force and then shoving the pipe in. The diameter of the rod kept her jaws wide, preventing her from closing them as he held it in place, her tongue squirming as she gagged upon the intruder.

  Taking up the first can of cold beans he lifted it over the wide funnel he had created and with unbound rapture began to pour. Maria gurgled and her eyes bulged in calamity.

  “Swallow them!” He demanded, and set the can aside to take up the strap and begin clapping it to her thighs, making her jolt and send bubbles of her breath through the smothering layer of beans. Straining at the peg she fought to gain access to air as she tried to gulp down the cold fare. Her contorted pose made it difficult but with a few manic attempts the last of them disappeared down her gullet and left her coughing and spluttering for breath, her lungs having been tainted by residual droplets that she had accidental inhaled with her first frantic wheeze.

  Another deluge from the can fell in, her oppressor suffocating her with food until she had guzzled it. With jeopardy encouraging her, the last of the can was swallowed only to have a tin of peas lifted up. The rough greens were harder to cope with because she was unable to chew and they stuck in her throat and went down with an obstinate defiance.

  As the dregs of the contents vanished he took up a large can of ravioli.

  “No more, I can’t eat anymore,” she implored, her words distorted almost beyond recognition because of the pipe.

  “You should have considered that before you stole from me.”

  The can was dumped in before she had finished imploring, cutting off her words and preventing a preparatory inhale. With less breath stored she had to act quicker, her mind churning as she sought to access air. Straining against the ropes she maniacally took huge swallows, her stomach protesting at the overlarge influx.

  The cold pasta disappeared and left her retching uncontrollably, the overflow of her ordeal trickling down either side of her mask as the cold lumpy flow trickled down into her belly. The chill from the ingested substances spread throughout her gut and wrung punishing myalgia from the innards that had her jerking against her bonds, as it demanded that she double up in pain, only to have the ropes thwart such wishes.

  Lifting a can of soup high over the pipe he began to steadily pour, drawing out the application and making her jolt as she strove to keep pace with him. Her stomach was full to capacity, there was no more room, yet if she stopped, she would drown. A rash attempt to draw air before the reservoir was fully drained threw her into a berserk panic, squirming against her bonds as she hacked and cast the fluids from either side of her mouth, her shuddering head spilling them as her lungs spasmed and tried to force out the accidental influx.

  An entire tin of rice pudding was cast in and he dropped the emptied vessel to grab her chin and hold her still, leaving her unable to free herself of the well of pale sludge. With every gulp her belly strained with a struggling force, her innards ready to split and rupture with the application of another single morsel. The sense of calamity was rising with every gulp she took down, and if she could have, she would have screamed for help, save that her cries would only rob her of valuable breath that was better spent keeping her alive in the face of this assault.

  The pipe was yanked out and the belt unbuckled to set her head free. Before she could respond, a plastic bag was drawn down over her head, the opaque white pane settling over her face and being closed at her neck by the entwining belt. The
plastic hood was left baggy, allowing her to draw in breath and have the last of it hampered as the dwindling balloon stuck to her face and made the acquisition of a full breath a vexing feat. With her respiration curtailed and leaving her to the heat of re-breathed air he chuckled and simply deserted her.

  The banquet she had been force-fed was not resting easily and it constantly rose up to seek escape, forcing Maria to battle against her spasming canals lest she fill her tiny prison with the semi-digested meal. Cursing her oppressor for his actions she had no choice but to endure the bloated pressure languishing in her gut and fight to keep it there against all reason as she struggled for air and to slip the woven coils, the very act of breathing a chore within her bondage. Was there no hope of salvation? Anything was better than this.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Churning the thick ocean in which she was held, Kirsten pawed at her body, the thick film of the sludge having settled and congealed across her flesh. For hours after her introduction she had sought to force out the root, but it had lodged deep inside her and become lost. When sudden painful cramps began to rock her rear she knew it was spreading its influence, the sensation steadily escalating until she felt a soft tickling plaguing the orifice. The prickling feeling kept growing in ferocity, forcing her into conducting an examination.

  Taking hold of the stubborn layer that was constantly growing on her, she braced and pulled at the new skin covering her rear, unleashing a howl of pain as the synthetic skin held to the roots of her hair and kept its teeth fixed in her pores. The shallow holds upon the hair of her rear came away only after a fearsome nightmare of suffering that impressed upon her just how immobile the layer would be once it had sunk its claws all the way into her.

  Panting, she probed her rectum and found to her horror that several small stalks had wiggled out of the orifice. Taking a pinching hold of these growths she tugged and found them secure, the root having send probing tendrils out to access the cultivated skin.