Trained to Obey 2

by Bruce McLachlan

  All prediction as to what was to follow vanished as she took hold of his penis and began to massage it. With frantic might he tried to distract himself from her clear intention to arouse him, conjuring every repulsive and anti-erotic thought he could summon. Running through a plethora of foul images he tried to stop his libido from answering her caress, but it was a futile notion and within moments she had crafted a tumescent shaft.

  “There, that’s much better. You see, you do know how to respond correctly when something pure and superior to you is touching you,” she crooned, swiftly bringing him towards orgasm with her rough though sensuous caress.

  “Oops, but no relief for you, my mutant rebel. Bad mutants don’t get treats,” she laughed, stopping as she felt him swelling against her fist, denying him on the verge of release. Steven snorted and gasped, straining, almost begging her to finish her stimulation, the temptation of pleasure eclipsing the need to remain stalwart.

  “But we don’t want this fading do we?” she announced, and began to tie the center of a thin wire around his turgid shaft.

  Steven gurgled and croaked with strain as she formed a hideously tight noose at the root of his penis. She started then tightening it even more and lacing it towards the tip, criss crossing upwards, hauling in to make the flesh bulge around the strangling wires. The impediment to circulation on this sensitive organ made him jolt and writhe, mewling as she cocooned him, his face red with stress as he subdued the urge to beg and howl.

  A knot and a leaden weight on the end stretched him downward, the bite of the garroting cable preventing him from wilting and sloughing off the accursed plexus.

  “But I forget my manners, even though I am overheating, without your rags you must be feeling the cold, especially after all that time in the sun,” she offered with fake concern and a malicious edge to her voice.

  As fingers touched his rear he clenched with a sense of impending jeopardy, trying to deny her wishes as she forced her way onwards and started to work a cold lubricant into the orifice, her probing digits defeating his clenched muscles and working the gel deep inside him. Smoldering heat unexpectedly savaged the tender tracts, the embrocation cream searing the flesh with its chemical fervor.

  “There, that’s warming you up a bit isn’t it? But I just can’t get it deep enough,” she commented and the burn of the cream was eclipsed as a thick rubber dildo dove inward, opening his virgin rear and being sheathed deep within him. The shock of this violation rocked his abdomen and made him yell out in outrage at this brutal defilement.

  “Oh hush now, I know you mutants are all sick depraved types. It’s in your blood. You’re probably enjoying this aren’t you?” she questioned, and with a devilish precision she began to shift the replica phallus back and forth, turning it to drag at his stunned tissues and pivoting it to churn and punish his anus. Against such profanity he was howling for her to stop, begging without reservation.

  “Come on, admit it. Admit you like this and maybe I’ll stop so as to deny you your disgraceful perverse pleasure,” she offered, continuing her drives with more gusto, the cream being carried deep into him as she added more to her glove and massaged it onto his testes. The delicate skin erupted with volcanic force, making him truly believe that he was suffering the most heinous chemical burns, that his skin was being dissolved by the acidic searing appetite of a corrosive compound.

  “Come on, say it!” she ordered, stabbing the toy from root to tip and squeezing her hand with increasing forcefulness about his testicles, slowly compressing the lucid orbs.

  “I do! I do! Now stop!” he cried, the degradation and pain worse than any mistreatment he had ever endured in his life. Physical abuse and hardship could be handled but this woman was a more cunning and evil foe.

  “Say it in full. Tell me how much you enjoy this!” she demanded, her fist making his groin throb and nausea to rise within him.

  “I love this! I love taking a dildo in my arse! I love it so much! Don’t stop!” he wailed, demeaned tears trickling down his face as he soiled his throat with the words of his defeat. No guard had ever managed to taint him. They had beaten him unconscious and still he had refused to acquiesce, and now this woman had taken his dignity and pride in a matter of minutes with almost absent ease.

  “Good boy. Maybe there’s hope for you yet,” she commented and withdrew her dildo and released her hold.

  The woman moved back and then walked back around before him, standing to attention with a broad grin on her lips.

  “Oh look at these tears. Not such a brave and hardy mutant now are we? Just another pathetic wretch. How easy it was to break you. I’ve had children last longer than that, and there I was thinking you’d be a challenge. So much for that notion,” she accused, using every word to hack at his pride.

  His hatred of her speech could not gather with any significance, his self-pity and utter defeat were in charge now and her verbal harrying only made him weep more profusely and sink deeper into his vanquished apathy.

  “Well, it seems I overdid it a little with the heat. I should cool you off before we continue with your lessons, mutant,” she stated firmly and walked around back into the darkness.

  Moments later a freezing nugget of ice was pressed to his sphincter and shoved rudely forward. The arctic burn of the ice cube brought him to a thrashing fit as it slithered in and drifted into his hot insides, the radical temperature change bringing cramping pains and intense shock. He yelled and groveled freely, his resistance in tatters as she deployed the dildo, using it as a ram to thrust the cube even deeper into him before adding another. The distinct presence of the ice remained within him, sending radiant cold into his insides that was both horrid and painful.

  The woman inserted a full dozen, the waters from melted cubes dribbling from him as she continued her despotic work with obvious satisfaction. Each thrust of the dildo sent another into his tracts and forced back those he was trying to spit out. The straits were more than he could take but he was defenseless.

  “If you annoy the guards again, you will be sent back to me for more therapy,” warned the woman. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, yes, just stop, please!” he wept.

  “Then let us toast our agreement,” she smiled and moved back into the darkness, leaving the dildo sheathed within him, making him use his muscles to try and force it out. The length emerged slowly and finally fell out to bounce against the slat at his ankles and roll off onto the floor.

  “Drop something did we? Here, let me get that for you,” announced the officer, walking around him, taking up the toy and putting the tip to his rear and pausing for a moment. Slapping the palm of her spare hand to it she drove it in like a nail and made his tracts erupt with scintillating force at the brutality of this injection.

  “Now for that drink,” she uttered and moved to his side to lift a pint glass near full to the brim with golden fluid.

  “My own, personal vintage,” she grinned as it was brought to his face and the smell of urine washed under his nose, turning his stomach and numbing his thoughts with repelled shock.

  “A toast,” she chuckled. “To your obedience.”

  Gloved fingers pinched his nostrils shut and lifted up, causing his lips to part as the glass rim was delivered towards his mouth. He turned and tried to shake his head away, the oscillating spasms denying her will.

  A brutal smack fell across his face, stunning him as she ducked in and snatched his genitalia, her fingers rolling as she squeezed and caused the flesh to pound with a nauseating blast of torment. Squealing in distress as she crushed ever tighter, he heard the woman hiss her demands once more and apply a warning.

  “Drink it, or I’ll twist these off and make you eat them! Understand?”

  With a wrenching twist she let go, letting his cry drop into a concussed murmur.

  The glass appeared before him and without resistance he remained still and opened his mouth to accept it. The first sip almost made him retch and he spat it back into th
e glass, unable to comply with her will.

  Her spare hand instantly slammed his head up and sank fingers into his hair, dragging up with strength to make his scalp flicker with stabbing sensation. Assailed with the pain of this abuse he accepted the renewed flood, the woman pouring it in freely as he deserted his dignity and gulped down with alacrity.

  The last of the contents vanished and she backed up with an iniquitous grin, the foul tang lingering on his taste buds, refusing to depart as he coughed and gagged.

  “There, now isn’t that better,” she mocked, and began to restore her own clothes prior to adding his.

  Via a hand radio she summoned the KGP sentries to return him to the barracks in which the prisoners were held. In the last moments before the arrival of his escorts she unwound the wire, the sudden release causing him to cavort and yowl as angry sensation skipped back and made the flesh reveal its rancor.

  “If I see you here again, I’ll really make you suffer some indignity,” she warned.

  The sheer grotesque malice and authenticity in her voice sent an aghast quiver through his very soul as Steven was convinced he had experienced but a minute fraction of what this woman was capable of.

  With a snort of intense shock Steven jerked awake. His eyes snapped open to regard the darkness of the forest. All was quiet save for his racing pulse, his heart stamping in his chest from the memory he had been forced to relieve by a vindictive subconscious.

  Exhaling deeply he soothed his thoughts and visually checked to make sure the sentry was awake. Anna was propped against a tree, scrutinizing the blackness, her features locked in intense concentration as she brooded.

  Having doped up the Hound with sedatives from the first aid kits, the group had left the abandoned mine, the forgotten relic a valuable last resort hiding place, one too precious to use frequently lest it be discovered.

  While marching through the forest, Steven had been dwelling on his old memories, the stagnant thoughts rising through the barriers he had set up to keep them buried. But the description of the officer involved in the training of the Hounds was a little too close to his own knowledge to let him forget and while he slept the attack she had visited upon him had floated up into his dreams like some cadaverous body rising from the ocean depths.

  The prospect of a return to her iniquitous attentions had quelled his defiance for weeks thereafter, the mere threat of taking him back to be tormented being enough to end any dissent. If the woman had been honing her skills on the prisoners of the camp in preparation for training Hounds, Maria was in serious jeopardy. He had already seen one broken mutant, trained to obey, and the shock of such atrocities had left Anna a virtual mute since she had seen the process. Unless they freed her soon, Maria might become lost to them forever.

  * * * *

  Anna kept still as she listened to Steven settle back down and re-enter sleep. Leaning back she continued with tears in her eyes, fighting to stop herself but helpless to do so.

  A pair of her hands sneaked back down across her body and slipped between her legs, her fingers etching swift patterns on her wet sex. Another pair caressed her breasts, squeezing them and pinching at the nipples as she winced and arched slightly against the meager distress. Her mind’s eye rolled with visions stolen from the Hounds mind, images of women in latex and vinyl, leather, perched atop heels, crop in hand and snarl on lips.

  Since the invasion of Kirsten’s mind she hadn’t been able to get such deviancies from her thoughts. The long silent trek had allowed them to swell within her, becoming more detailed as she imaged being held under the stiletto heel of a powerful owner, someone who would train her, take care of her and above all use her for her own twisted erotic pleasure.

  Anna wanted to desperately push these alien feelings from her psyche but they would not be so easily removed. The intensity of Kirsten’s training and the woman’s initial fascination for such pursuits had infected her to her very core. She couldn’t believe she was thinking along such lines, that she was now aching for surrender to another, of being their property for life, but there was little she could do. Her libido was at a fervid zenith, she needed to relief the tension before she went into battle and all she could do to facilitate her sly onanism was to conjure images of her subjugation, of being placed in intricate bondage and tormented and teased. She yearned to be stretched out and bound tightly, to feel a monster dildo be forced into her as clamps gnawed upon her most tender parts, all of it acting as a precursor to a most virulent scourging. She wanted to feel the hot lick of a weapon across her vulnerable dildo stuffed rear, to be made to service another woman, to have one do the same to her. She wanted to be entombed in latex skin and restrained to be of use as furniture as her painfully gagged mouth could offer no protests.

  Dreaming of being made to perform like this at the booted feet of a stern female force, Anna tightened and moaned softly to herself, treating her body and mind to a long and succulent climax, one riddled with visions of delightful sexual slavery.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  With a spluttering gush the cold waters splashed across her face, saturating the cloth in an instant and shutting off her breath. The flow entered her nostrils and choked her as it seeped into her throat.

  Sucking at the impermeable veil, the moisture flecked her breath as she opened a narrow passage, the vent quickly sealing as the flow of water was increased with a gentle squeeze.

  The pattering pressure of it striking her face testified to the futility of seeking breath until it had stopped, making her strain against the restraints, her capacity to hold her breath being stretched to the very limits. As her lungs started to burn from starvation and her pulse thudded in her temples, she increased her fight for freedom, trying to get her face from under the flow so she might find access to air.

  The flow ceased and the waters slowly drooled from the fabric, allowing her to gulp down a rash breath, the entry of water droplets reducing her to hacking fits as her lungs reacted poorly to the intrusion.

  Barely had she recovered her respiration when her exhale was cut off by the splash of water, the flow denying an inhale that she might store and use to keep herself from drowning.

  Instantly she flew into paroxysms, the proximity of suffocation increased immeasurably, making her writhe and panic in mortal calamity.

  The application ended and left Maria in torment as she hauled at the cloth, fighting to tear out the fluid as more flowed in behind it to seal her away from air. The upper reaches of the cloth ran dry and descended, allowing her task to find success and once more she banished the fires of her torment with deep, rasping inhales.

  Again the waters descended, smothering her, robbing her of breath, offering up her drowning demise again and again and then taking it away, giving her all the horror of such a slow winding route to destruction without any final release.

  When the cloth was ripped from her face she was barely conscious, her thoughts swimming in chaotic ruins of recovery, the Mistress looming over her like some specter of the reaper and savoring her distress.

  “There, that’s all for now, slave,” she said softly, petting her property as she unfastened the head cage.

  Maria looked up at her with adoration for ending the ordeal.

  “Thank you, Mistress,” she said as soon as her jaw was freed, the words completely genuine.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Stirring from a chemically induced coma, Kirsten gathered her strength. The drugs had been swiftly processed by her enhanced mutant metabolism and had been broken down, bringing her back to awareness vastly ahead of the band’s schedule.

  Letting the dizziness fade, she concentrated her will and flexed her muscles, slowly straining and forcing outward. The crippling enfeeblement of the gunshot wound had gone, her body was totally healed of all damage and without the danger of armed guards or the debilitation of suffocation or psychic rape, the chains were an adversary she could at last overcome.

  The metal links creaked as they started to
bend, opening and then parting with a series of rending snaps.

  Gathering her breath after the labors, she flicked off the slack metal coils and arose to her feet. Grabbing her sections of armor she snapped them back into place, locking them to her rows of studs.

  Flexing her clawed fingers she turned and sniffed at the air until she was sure where the fresh influx was wafting from, the scent of pollen and the wilderness revealing all she needed.

  Having located the route out she broke into a sprint and made for the surface, intending to pursue the group to the base and if possible, stop them.

  The sense of jeopardy she felt at her Mistress’ own danger was eating at her more potently than ever before. The re-living of her training through the psychic attack had brought back her will to obedience, strengthening it and making her loyalty a far more forceful presence within her.

  The notions of freedom in the wilderness had evaporated. Kirsten wanted to return to her halcyon training, to grovel and fawn at her owner’s heels, to be the object of sadistic attention. The thought of such bliss increased her speed still further and dashing up through the last stretch of tunnel she sprang into the awaiting woodland.

  Kirsten swiftly scaled a tall tree and scanned the horizons to locate the distant smear of pollution marking the city and thereby the base on its outskirts. Noticing the muddy stain she dropped down to the ground from her elevated perch and pounded her feet to the ground as she commenced and frenzied sprint.

  Her lungs burned, her heart thrashed like a wild beast against her ribs as she pushed her body beyond all normal tolerances in order to reach her goal in time. The pain in her body was nothing compared to the pain her heart felt should the Mistress not survive.

  Chapter Thirty-Four