Trained to Obey 2

by Bruce McLachlan

  Endeavoring to rise, her muscles heeded her commands with half-hearted vigor, bringing her to her feet in a series of aborted attempts and ailing sways.

  Perched once again on her heels she lifted her weary head and regarded the smug countenance of her anonymous captor.

  “Follow me,” he commanded, and strode off into the main passage, leading her towards the bathroom. Maria had to support herself on the walls as her balance faltered with sudden waves of giddiness, the trials of her solitude and merciless torment joining forces to cripple her enervated physique.

  The door swung back and exposed a scene of shifting banks of steam, the obscuring veil reducing the interior to vague glimpses and suggestive outlines that her mind pieced together and presented as a rough guide.

  The bathtub was filled with hot water, the rippling pool throwing up columns of extra steam to augment the fog and replace the volumes currently drifting out into the corridor.

  Shutting the door behind him, he sat down upon the toilet seat and bade her undress as he reached down and took up a short but stout cane. The pliant length unleashed a dull howl upon the air when he cast down a preliminary swipe to remind her of the consequences that disobedience would bring.

  With trembling fingers she began to remove the gloss uniform, stripping slowly as he reveled in the show, licking his lips as the heat of the accidental sauna encouraged greater quantities of lecherous sweat.

  The dress fell down and she drew off the gloves and unfastened the suspenders before rolling down the stockings, careful not to snag them lest he use it as an excuse for some sort of horrendous bondage chastisement. Moving from his voyeuristic seat he unlocked the footwear and the hood, allowing her to acquire a nude state.

  Maria knelt on the floor, her hands covering herself as best she could while she awaited further instructions.

  Declining use of words, he chose to manually mold her as he required, laying her on her back and then grabbing her ankles. Applying a cord to capture the joints and connect them he carried her legs over her head until her toes touched the ground, bending her spine severely and making her clench her fists in strain. With his body holding her in this undignified configuration Maria felt his hands running up her legs, exploring the young form trapped and subservient to his will. His caress focused on her rear for a brief time, cupping her upturned buttocks and tracing her blatant weals as she quivered with choler beneath him, fighting to subdue her yells of outrage and to keep still lest he use restraints to force vulnerability.

  “Before we handle your outside, we have to handle the insides, slave,” he announced, and sitting comfortably across the trapped extremities he presented and then introduced a funnel to her rear.

  Shoving the nozzle in, the rough plastic scratched at her sphincter, causing her to whimper as it slid into her anus. Sinking a jug into the hot bath he lifted it up as a mockery of a toast.

  “Down the hatch,” he chuckled and threw the steaming contents into the yawning pan.

  Maria shuffled in her tethered pose, the sudden feeling of hot fluids flowing unchecked into her making her moan at the strange and eldritch sensation.

  Unable to exercise any control, her rear gulped down the quantity, the level draining away and then vanishing into her as another jug full was thrown in. This one proved harder to digest. Her stomach was already swollen and engorged with water, but still the flood continued to flow undiminished into her. The well of pressure began to exert a force throughout her tracts, the growing ocean opening its arms and reaching out as the funnel fed it and let it grow ever larger, stretching her stomach as she began to moan and twitch, her fingers clawing at the condensation slickened floor.

  The remaining dregs vanished from the plastic bowl and joined the sea within her, and to her dread, another was deposited without reservation.

  Unable to tolerate this indignity she reached up with hesitant enthusiasm to remove the funnel. Her hands were snatched just as they brushed the sides. With a rotating turn they were pinned back down, the twist making her joints thunder as he held firm and let her anus swallow the last of the douche.

  “Please! No more! It’s too much!” she wailed.

  The pressure in her belly promised to rupture her innards if she did not expel it immediately, the addition of another droplet assuring her abdomen that it would tear under such unnatural cleansing.

  “Almost there, slave. You’ve plenty of room left,” he commented, eyeing the water level as it slowly plummeted,

  His hands left hers and the funnel was snatched away before he stepped from her legs, letting her flip them back down and turn over, stretching her back as the rippling swell within her body suddenly changed direction and barged to her sphincter with massive impetus.

  “Okay, you can go,” he said with a fascinated smirk.

  Clenching desperately, Maria leapt up and jumped onto the toilet, riven with humiliating shame as he watched her with an amused mocking.

  Perching himself on the edge of the bathtub, he observed the private affair, the noises delighting him as she trembled from degradation and seethed with resentment.

  “Most amusing. You’ll provide a fine evening’s entertainment,” he proclaimed and with a throaty chuckle he arose and left the room, deserting her to the solitary task of expelling the enema.

  Maria screwed her hands into fists and attacked her own thighs with virulence. The pounding assault numbed her skin as she let bitter tears sting her cheeks, her teeth grinding as she swallowed her despair and tried to think of a way in which to escape this hideous lot.

  Chapter Three

  “Have you found anything yet, slave?” came her Mistress’ stern voice, the words issuing straight into Kirsten’s ear with near perfect clarity as she scaled the side of a squat office block, her claws and preternatural strength facilitating a swift ascent that no human climber could ever dream of rivaling.

  “No, Mistress,” she replied, her answer issuing on panting breaths, the throat microphone gathering her response for her owner.

  “Head towards the city center, slave. The sightings were more frequent in that area,” was the soft command, the directions revealing that Kirsten’s current position was accurately determined by the tracer.

  Turning swiftly, she looked across the belated cityscape from her vantage point while holding tightly to the concrete. The barren streets were bathed in the yellow light of the street lamps, the winding veins of amber dots weaving out across every portion of visible land. A main road below her arched up upon the hump of an overpass and bore occasional traffic to and from the heart of the city, offering her a quicker route to her destination.

  Reversing her direction she retraced her climb and then threw herself out into the air when she spied a vehicle that met her requirements.

  The wind rushed across her insensible skin, dragging at the sculpted armor as the ground rose towards her. With a shrill clang her claws pierced the steel hide of a massive truck, her fall slowing rapidly as her talons etched grooves down its metal flank. The cargo container squealed from the trauma, the wrench at her arms from being torn to the same speed as the vehicle making her grip momentarily falter.

  Kirsten curled her fingers into the wounds she had carved, and clutching ferociously her hold remained true. Assured that she was secure, a quick flurry of harsh tugs drew her atop its wide back where she punched holes in the metal and kept the piercing claws hooked to them for a firm anchor as she rode the truck onwards.

  The driver had failed to notice the arrival of his hitchhiker, her chameleonic skin causing him to glance into a mirror at the sound of the impact. After seeing nothing he dismissed his doubts, turned up the radio and casually returned his weary eyes to the road.

  Chapter Four

  The door opened and Maria snapped her gaze up to see him swing his arm out.

  “A quick reminder lesson and then we can continue,” he grinned and the handle he gripped cast a swaying veil of leather cords into her flank.

  E
ach stroke was a withering slap that had her gasping in surprise as to its effulgent power. Flipping from the toilet Maria dropped and tried to shelter herself from this harsh rain. She wailed as he continued to slice through the air and have the cords illustrate her naked frame with flushed rosy contusions, the riots of suffering settling into a darker pulse as they gradually shed their fervid pitch.

  Choking back her cries, she hissed and squeaked in response to his assault, intending not to aggravate her dilemma by venting any more screams.

  At least a dozen strokes had been applied when he stopped, leaving her huddled in the corner, her face pressed to the tiles, her body quivering and laced with perspiration and beads of condensation, her breath rapid and weak.

  “There, that should cut down on your resistance, slave,” he remarked, gathering up the coils as he assessed her exhaustion and shock.

  Having deprived her of strength he leant in and snagged her without effort, flipping her up and dumping her into the bath where he began to shove her under and scrub at her with solemn verve. Her bound legs bucked as she was pinned beneath the waters, her mortified stare glaring up through the shifting pane above her as he held her down. Fighting to rise and access the air he leant his weight to his task and kept her submerged.

  The hold fell away and she slammed her legs to the interior and shoved, pushing herself up and out of the waves. With a deep gasp she broke into splutters and hacks, debilitated by the minute inhale of water she had rashly stolen while still trapped beneath the waters.

  “Down we go,” he notified.

  “No! P—” she began.

  A palm clapped to her crown and shoved, driving her under again as her fingers pawed at the sinewy forearm, clawing at the digits, trying to peel them off. The other hand of her abuser ripped at her with a coarse brush, the rigid fibers tearing at her skin and leaving it raw.

  All choice to hold some breath in reserve broke as the brush scraped across her sex, the sudden rending nova of pain making her shriek beneath the fluid. A plume of bubbles poured from her mouth and she commenced her fight to escape with all the greater intensity. Even when the savaging of her loins stopped she was so desperate for air that there was no dwindling in her efforts.

  The villain let her rise and she dragged herself to the lip and leant over, retching and coughing, crippled by the ordeal but glad that it was over at least.

  “Do you think you’re clean enough, slave?” He pondered aloud, drawing her head back and slotting a ball gag into her slack jaws. He then tightened the belt at the back until the corners dug painfully into the corners of her mouth, stifling any response she might have made to the question.

  “Yes, I think you are. But germs might still be a problem, and fortunately I have the perfect way to deal with that problem,” he chuckled grimly.

  Two clasping hands locked about her biceps and drew her languid form out of the bath and dropped it heavily to the floor. A few cursory rubs with a towel removed the excess moisture and she found herself being removed from the bathroom, lost in a daze of tiredness and shock.

  Casting her face up onto the mattress in the bedroom he drew out her limbs and used slender lengths of rope to affix her wrists and ankles to the bedposts, drawing them tight to stretch her between the four points, her limbs resounding with tearing aches.

  “First, I think a little more punishment,” he pronounced, causing Maria to fight the effects of the gag, pleading for clemency from the sadist, her words distorted into gibberish by the trespassing ball and her panic.

  Holding up a cane to her petrified gaze, he scalded the flesh of her thighs and abdomen with sharp staccato beats. Maria wailed and jerked as he crisply applied the cane with an unerring exactitude, her skin blushing from pink to a sorrowful purple.

  “Such a wonderful dance,” he stated. “But let’s add some more decorations to this tasty body of yours.”

  Pausing in his attack, he delayed the rest of his blows to wind rope around her upper chest. Squeezing the loops to a closer fit he crushed her breasts to her ribs, making every inhale fight against the corset of nylon weave.

  “And now to sterilize these feet of yours,” he hissed with eagerness.

  As she struggled against this new torment he began to encase her feet in wraps of tin foil, the crinkling silver layer being pressed to her skin before the unsettling growl of a match being lit stirred her fright to new levels.

  A candle accepted the match and lifted a tall thin flame that the man moved to the foil. The metal heated to an unbearable peak in an instant, spreading a burning flare through her soles, the affliction of such tender skin an insufferable abuse.

  “I bet you can actually feel them getting cleaner can’t you?” He taunted, swaying the flame beneath the quivering feet.

  Yowling upon the ball gag she fought to try and break her feet from their fetters and get them out and away from the roasting fire, the wandering candle distributing its ardent storms across her extremities. The foil cackled as she wriggled and wept for pity, her malefactor continuing to delight in her torture, the foil blackening from soot as he licked her skin with the fiery tongue of the candle. The sterilization was more than she could endure, the attack churning her mind and sanity with its virulence.

  Having left her feet raw and throbbing, he blew out the flame and set the candle aside as it trailed acrid smoke from the glowing wick.

  Maria sank into the sheets, her body shaking, drool and tears sliding down her features as she ground her teeth to the gag. Her breasts were throbbing from their compression, her gasping shrieks having caused the garroting strands to chafe her as her chest rose and fell.

  In an instant he returned to applying the cane, hacking into her as she howled into the gag and wrung her joints against the scratching ropes ensnaring her, her torso bouncing beneath the strokes as she squirmed and instinctively sought refuge.

  The doorbell issued a peel of chimes and brought an instant stop to the assault, leaving Maria a wheezing devastated ruin, unaware of anything save the pounding ache in her body.

  “Ah, he’s here,” whispered the tyrant, brushing his hair back with his fingers, his reckless attack having ruffled his preened appearance.

  Setting aside the cane he walked calmly from the room, leaving her to the silence of her own apprehension. Taking advantage of the lull in her torment she closed her eyes and reached forth with her thoughts, extending her mind and taking hold of the rope. Closing a mental fist she drew back, straining on the weave. The knot trembled slightly but she failed to drag out the loose end.

  When the door swung back her concentration faltered, the mystery surrounding her fate erasing all hope of keeping control of her infant powers.

  The new arrival was brutal in build, his head of brown hair cropped short to emphasize his heavy brow and rigid jaw. Without pause he snatched the forsaken cane and smiled broadly as he looked over the spread-eagled female before him.

  “Nice,” he purred, swinging the weapon in a few oscillating wiggles to limber up the slender bamboo stave.

  A capricious flick skimmed to her bound breast, making her dance upon the sprung mattress, her urgent quest to slip her bonds rising as he began to mark her torso with his blows.

  Aroused by the sight of her suffering, he dropped the cane after only a few blows and fumbled recklessly with his clothes. Through tear-bleared eyes Maria froze with appalled dismay as she realized what his intentions were. Her fight against the bonds became more urgent but her chagrin made any coherent psychic manipulation impossible.

  Stripping off his clothes he climbed atop her, his hands running across her skin, groping and squeezing, fully exploring her form as she murmured in revulsion. A tube of lubricant appeared which he used to coat his turgid length before wiping his slickened digits onto her loins.

  Lowering onto the prisoner he guided himself into her sex, locating the orifice with gentle confirmation and then with savagery he threw himself deep into her womb, impaling her and making her abdomen
burst with scintillating feeling as she unleashed a croaking wail. Despite the fiercest clenching of her muscles the lubricant allowed him to steal entry without resistance, easily defeating her attempts.

  With reckless abandon he battered her with a vicious phallus until she was squealing from the profanity of this violation. Throwing her head from side to side as she howled in delirium, lines of frenzied spittle slipped from her lips as her rabid response erased all sentience from her mind. But despite his celerity and the joy this method elicited, it seemed to take him an eternity to near climax, his shaft swelling against her speared womb with the onset of orgasm.

  Before he achieved this elusive goal he drew free and moved upward, removing the gag and dropping his shins across her arms, squashing them as he placed his hands about her head and hauled it up, forcing her mouth onto his raging length.

  “Suck it,” he hissed, and started to guide her head back and forth.

  Maria was reluctant, hesitant to comply with the fellatio and repelled by the feel of the tumescent shaft pushing at the back of her throat.

  “Obey me!” he growled, jerking her all the more savagely, the grip on her hair making her scalp burn with every whiplash snap. The abuse was too much and with a sense of defeat she locked her lips to the shaft and provided the required suction, the grim taste of the lubricant and her submission making her wince.

  With a smile of rapture he lowered his eyelids and savored the feel of her mouth attending him, his movements slowing as he drew out his pleasure. Maria’s neck burned with the constant plunging motion and the brutal jab into the back of her throat that made her retch and gurgle as he continued.

  A stiffening jerk marked the moment of climax and he drew her so deep onto himself that she felt him virtually capable of ejaculating directly into her stomach. Swallowing the foul salty treacle she closed her eyes and tried to distract herself from the entire affair, to forget her imprisonment and the foul debasing acts that were so freely heaped onto her.