Liberation of Greta	Back to R	Back to main page

Collected by Djian

It seems obvious, but this story is for adults only. If you are under
the age of 18 please leave this site, you don't belong here. I
will not be held responsible if children read this story. For the rest
of you, I hope you enjoy and can read - it's fiction.
Rape is a heinous crime and the penalty is many years in prison.
Any man who commit rape are despised everywhere. But fantasies are
all right if they not hurt somebody.

"So now you're going to rape me," I spat at him. "That's how you get off." I'd awakened from the drugged sleep to find myself naked and restrained. At first I thought I was blind, but then the cloth over my eyes was suddenly removed, and I looked into a large mirrored wall directly in front of me. The view terrified me beyond words. My leather-cuffed wrists were locked into the links of a chain above my head, my feet rested on the floor with a bar spreading them wide apart. My breasts felt swollen and I saw there were leather straps buckled around the base of each one, making them appear even larger than the D-cup that I ordinarily wore. Worst of all, there were little bands around both of my nipples making them painfully erect. And around my neck I wore a leather collar with several rings attached to it.

The man who appeared in front of me was for a moment a complete stranger. But gradually, with no little effort, I dredged up the memory of his face at the bar where I'd been with my husband and some business associates. This man and I had been dancing. After that, the memories were mere fragments. And now he stood in front of me, smiling in a self-satisfied, supercilious way. I had no idea where I was, but considering the manner in which I'd been posed, the purpose was hardly a mystery. I wondered what might have already happened to me while I was under the influence of whatever sedative he'd used. And it worried me that he obviously didn't care that I could see him quite clearly, and thus identify him as my abductor should I ever have the chance. I stared back at him as he stood there tapping a leather riding crop on the palm of his hand.

"Rape is mundane," he replied with a hint of mockery. "Those who enjoy it the most generally have little imagination. Gang rape is a bit more interesting. But still it's only a matter of grabbing some poor bitch off the street, or breaking into her home. Perhaps they stop for a stranded maiden in distress. suppose it has its arousing features, certainly the inevitability of it once the rapists have made their intentions clear. And there is amusement in the struggle of the object of their attention, as if her cunt were some valuable prize worth protecting. I assure you it isn't."
"So what are you then? Some sort of crusading misogynist?"
He laughed. "Hardly. That implies a hatred of women. Nothing could be further from the truth. Where would we be without the female of the species? They are a source of pleasure, a means of servicing our needs, alleviating our boredom, and providing amusement. And there is the obvious biological imperative-they are constructed for breeding, and thus perpetuation of the species itself. In my case, they are all of the above, and a focus of intellectual, and scientific study.
"Study! This is science, I suppose, tying a naked woman spread eagled?"
"Only the laboratory setting," he replied. "However, in your particular case, I will admit there is a dual purpose. And we will get to that a bit later. First of all, though, I may as well explain that I have well documented my theories on the appropriate role of females in society, a large number of them at any rate. The exceptions--the aggressive, discourteous, uncooperative, ball-busters as some call them-are merely the result of a sadly misinformed social education. Most of them can also be brought to heel, with some work."

"To heel? Sounds as if you equate acceptable women with properly trained dogs."
He smiled broadly. "Precisely. You have grasped the very heart of the issue. You may be one of the brighter bitches I've entertained here, and I do not use that word in this context as an expletive, but rather a description categorization. There are males and there bitches created for enjoyment by males. But let's begin with a rudimentary introduction to the art and pleasure of submission.
He moved closer and cupped one of my swollen breasts in his hand, then gently ran the tip of his riding crop over the nipple. I shuddered. "In this position, naked and vulnerable and quite helpless to say 'no' to what happens to your body, you are eminently more open to training, simply because your body will always respond, no matter what your conditioned closed mind, the bullying superego, tells you. If I do this..." he closed his mouth over my sensitive nipple and sucked at I briefly, "... your animal instincts take over. The part of your brain that reasons, that makes judgments about what should and should not happen is rapidly rendered impotent. Its pathetic arguments cannot prevent this." He rapidly ran his hands over my mound, then slid his fingers between my pussy lips. To my horror, when he held those fingers up to my eyes, they were glistening with moisture, with my arousal.
"You see? The body responds because it is designed to do so, in the same way a bitch of any species will respond if properly stimulated. I am simply returning you to your more natural state. And you have an advantage over the lower species in that you can be conditioned to be "in heat" as they say, in terms of arousal potential, all the time, not just during a breeding cycle. When you are fully reprogrammed, shall we say, it will take only a mere look of desire or the touch of any man to fill this lovely cunt with lubrication so that it is ready to be used."
"You're insane," I hissed at him.
Instantly, the riding crop arced across my field of vision and landed first on one breast, then the other. I tried not to scream.
"One rule is never to interrupt when you are being taught. Or speak, unless you spoken to. Further infractions will warrant not only tit punishment, but this as well." He held up a rubber phallus with straps attached. "Rather than a simple gag, I will stuff this down your throat and strap it in place... Now, where was I? Ah, yes, the process."
"The first step is to relieve the female of any moral or intellectual conviction that sexual desire is anything other than perfectly natural. If anything, the female's focus should be on every aspect of pleasure, every fantasy, however dark she might think it is. In my vast experience, the best way to begin is in restraints, thus your cuffs and the spreader bar. Nothing about your experience here involves choice on your part. Your pleasure, as well as your pain, depend entirely on my whim."
He made a full circuit of my body, running his hands over it with a decidedly proprietary attitude. He spread my ass cheeks, probed at my anus, explored between my legs yet again, then firmly squeezed my engorged breasts together and licked the nipples several times each. Utterly against my will and judgment, I felt the heat in my belly, the precursor to arousal. I said nothing, but he looked long enough into my eyes that I could almost believe he knew exactly what was happening inside me.
"If any female were completely honest, she would admit that being completely subdued and made to immerse herself in pure lust is liberating. There is no guilt, no moral rectitude, no withholding of sexual favors, because she learns to know herself AS lust, the embodiment of that purest of hungers-to be filled, satisfied, to be of service-without debate, without uncertainty. This passage I can fondle or use at will," he reached between my legs again, "is for one purpose only. And you know full well what it is. The only obstacle is obliterating your resistance to what you want, what you know to be true. And one of the ways I do that is visual stimulation."

He held up a photograph. "Now this very likely arouses you, but you wouldn't admit it, at least not yet."
I stared at it for a moment, trying to focus, then looked away. He yanked my bound nipple hard. "When I tell you to look at something, do not disobey me." I returned my attention the glossy 8x10 photo.
"Now, note the significant features of this frozen moment in time. It's not posed, it is quite real. I commissioned this rape, and had it photographed, for my studies in female sexuality. You'll be able to see the film later. Now, I find responses depend on age group. So on this occasion I sent three of my employees out to find a relatively young bitch, and I wanted an "auto rape" as they call it, or a "motor rape," which takes place in or around a car. Away from home, the vulnerability factors are significantly increased." He raised my chin with the riding crop. "Pay attention! You see that they've wrapped a blindfold around her eyes as a sensible precaution against future recognition, since I deplore unnecessary disposal of my study subjects. But the technique also serves as a method of rendering her psychologically no more than an object of amusement, satisfaction, and service. Just as your current state of bondage does."

Against my will, I continued to stare at the photograph. It seemed I could not look away, even if I wanted to.
"In the first photograph of the series, they have torn off most of her clothing and she is well secured in their grip. One of her rapists is behind her, large and ungentle hands trapping her tits in his tight grip. This man is kneeling down next to her, spreading her cunt lips open for the camera. I particularly like that shot. It's as if he's examining their 'catch.' They've gone hunting and succeeded. Of course, the prey is hardly difficult to bring down. But I enjoy what must be her humiliation at being lewdly opened up and fingered in broad daylight. She cannot even see who else might be watching. The drawback of course, to the blindfold is that we cannot observe that very appealing look in a slut's eyes when she feel the head of a cock pressing against her precious little pussy and knows that nothing will stop it from penetrating her."

He paused and ran the riding crop between my legs. Then he spread my pussy lips apart, much as the man in the photograph, and fingered me casually, flicking at my clit with his thumb until I squirmed in my restraints.

"You see, Greta, there are key elements to the process... control, usage, humiliation, degradation, objectification, punishment, reluctant surrender to the body's natural responses, and finally complete submission. The first, we are accomplishing right now. You are completely helpless to resist. And the second, usage, well, I'm already enjoying myself, aren't I? Just the fact that I can spread your precious little cunt when you don't give me permission to do so, and stick my fingers in you... we're practicing usage. And whether you enjoy it is of no relevance... though I suspect part of you enjoys it very much."
He walked around behind me and stroked his hand across my ass, before showing me the next photo. "Here they have their chosen bitch on the hood of the car. This man opens his prize, rubs his cock up and down the wet opening that is now his to claim. He finds the entrance, and simply thrusts himself into her cunt, while another is grasping her head firmly and fucking her mouth. The third is roughly enjoying her ample tits. And in this photo you will note the change in her facial expression, a relaxing into the unavoidable reactions of her animal instincts, like any bitch being mounted.

Of course, in this case, I added a little psychological twist that produced the expected results. Another of my staff, fully kitted out as an officer of the law pretended to 'catch' them in the act. She naturally switched back, without thinking, into the role of poor victim, begging him to arrest them and rescue her. He pretended to consider it, and then, to her horror, let the rapists talk him into overlooking the situation by offering to let him have a go at her. See this photo, where they have her on the ground, and my policeman is in a modified 69, dropping his thick cock into her mouth, and fucking her now very wet and relaxed pussy with his long baton." He smiled as if remembering the thrill of the little experiment.

I noticed something about the photo and started to speak, but no words came out when I glanced at the riding crop in his hand. He stopped, hearing my intake of breath. "You may ask a question."
"She's not wearing the blindfold anymore."

"Ah, yes, quite. How observant of you. So let me clarify. I do not condone even the occasional practice of killing bitches simply because one has used them forcibly. And I find the idea of murder as an aphrodisiac to be nothing less than mentally unbalanced. It's a waste of resources, and unnatural to the order of things. In this instance, while my staff were entertaining their acquisition, one of them contacted me, as instructed, with details of her identity. A swift background check through a very efficient agency I retain reported within two hours that this particular subject was for very suitable for retention. That is to say, her parents were estranged and living thousands of miles away. She had no steady man in her life, and earned a living as a temporary employee. In other words, no one to stir up much of an investigation into her whereabouts. Thus I allowed her to see her captors, and she was transported to my facilities for training and for sale."

He waited to see if I would respond, but I didn't, although my heart was racing. Sale? That could only mean that white slavery wasn't an urban myth after all.

"Had the report been different, the blindfold would have remained in place, and she would have been left there, on the verge, lying naked and tied to the bumper. In that instance, my staff would have left a concealed camera behind to record the conclusion of the experiment. In most cases, the subject is rescued by a good Samaritan, or a police officer. Every now and then, however, the man who finds her cannot resist a blindfolded, spread-eagled piece of ass. What has he lose anyway? The opening is there, so to speak. And he uses what is available, assuming, correctly... what difference could one more cock in that pussy possibly make."

He probed my vagina with his fingers, this time a little more aggressively.

"It's all in the design of the species, the construction of the female, which is what makes my vision a quite logical one of how society should be. Here, where they spread her... displaying an orifice designed to be invaded, filled, stretched to accommodate a man's cock. His pleasure is to have her opened for him and use what is his. And the mouth of a bitch is soft and warm, perfect again for performing the proper service. How else to explain that we have been enjoying the act of violation, of taking, of penetrating without any need for permission for thousands of years? The liberal feminists would tell you it's only about violence, not sex, but I disagree. Men may sometimes love the object of their lust, but it is hardly necessary. And our needs are more constant, more overt. No man should tolerate an unserviced erection. I certainly do not. And the activities should be enjoyably, even playful in a dark sort of way."

"One of my most successful parties had a playground theme. I strung up half a dozen very comely bitches in harnesses from the ceiling. They were hanging there, some face up, others face down, with legs spread wide, and heads hanging down. Objects in which to masturbate, and deposit sperm. Each guest could stand quite still and simply swing the cunt back and forth on his cock. For oral pleasure, the pulleys moved up and down." He flicked my rigid nipple again and watched my face for reaction. "Ah, yes, quite sensitive, isn't it? That's another reason I don't understand certain fetishes like using a bitch who's been rendered drunk and unconscious. Where's the psychological thrill if you can't see her resist, see her blush with shame at her own sluttishness as she grinds her own pussy on your fingers, begging for an orgasm."

I steeled myself to resist the rising warmth inside me. I would not be one of those wanton whores who could not control their own libidos. It was absurd. I was not like those women, not like the one in the pictures, even if I were forced to to, I would not enjoy it.

"I know some find it arousing to violate a passed out slut, but a rubber doll would do as much. Though I must admit that showing them photographs of their violation afterward, and then using those pictures to force them to perform is a bonus of sorts."

He walked over to a file cabinet. "Here's one as a matter of fact. Left lewdly naked on a kitchen floor after several party guests made use of her after her husband had passed out. See the legs awkwardly splayed, cum dripping out of her pussy, and sprayed over her tits and face. I enjoyed showing her that series. She became almost ludicrously compliant, begging me not to show the photos to her husband. I let her please me in a most subservient manner... and I sent the photos anyway." He laughed. "Now she wears a dog collar, goes naked about the house, and wears her husband's brand on her ass so she does not forget to whom she belongs."

"You might wonder why bother subjugating a bitch to the natural order when there are so many sluts in the world who will gladly spread their legs and open their mouths to hungrily suck a cock." He looked at me. "They are no challenge. It's the independent ones, the rebellious and yet highly sexed ones like you, Greta, who deny their deepest and most lewd desires, those are the ones worth playing with. You want to pretend that you aren't a slut, but you are. And I'll find the key. This photo I showed you, of my employee spreading open a cunt with his fingers and showing it to the camera. You rather like that, don't you?"

"No! I don't," I said, struggling against the wrist restraints.
"You may say anything you wish, but a the bitch of the species always gives herself away." He moved closed and looked into my eyes as he turned his hand vertically and ran it roughly between my legs again. He smiled. "You're even more wet. If I were to remove your nipple bands, they would stay erect and hard. And I can see the beginnings of what you need."

He consulted another file drawer, returning with several folders he laid on the table. Then he rolled a cart over. On it was some sort of machine. He began attaching sticky pads to various parts of my body. "not to worry, this isn't painful, though I can't promise there won't be pain in your future, for there certainly will be some. But in this case, the purpose is scientific. I can accurately measure through galvanic skin response, pulse, and breathing, your responses to various forms of sexual activity." He finished and attached the leads, and turned on the machine. Dials lit up and a low hum filled the room. "Then there's the very reliable pussy test. And I will use that tool as well."

Without warning, he thrust his forefinger into my pussy, and I yelped. He smiled again. "That wasn't part of the test, more of an object lesson, you being the object in question. The beauty of this restraint for example is that I can easily do as I wish. If I want to put my fingers in your wet cunt, or anything else in it, I will. If I want to whip your ample tits again, I shall certainly do so. It's all up to my whim, my impulse. And soon I will more fully explain what you will be doing in the near future. But let me proceed more scientifically and insert the proper testing instrument."

He picked up a cock-shaped metal and plastic probe and without hesitation slid it into me. I shuddered at the coldness of it and the rude violation of my vagina. He simply attached another lead to it. "This will measure moisture, heat, and the strength of your cunt's natural contractions, which are by the way additional evidence of the perfection of the design-the female orifice is genetically programmed to squeeze the man's cock, to milk it for its natural life-giving properties and provide pleasure in the process."

He returned to the pile of folders. "Somewhere in these photos is the, shall we say, perversion, that especially arouses you, so shall we look at some more?"

The next series was of a woman severely stretched, pierced and bound, with actual wounds. "Hmm," he said, consulting the readout on the machine. "That does not make much impression. Negative in fact. I see a lessening of some readouts. Some pain will be good for you, but I think your slut nature is inspired by something other than extreme pain. Though there are those..." he shook his head.

The next series showed a middle-aged man and a young adolescent girl with a hairless slit-him licking her, and her licking his cock. Him penetrating her small pussy. My captor glanced at the instrument panel, apparently noted nothing exceptional, and started to file them away. But he stopped, pondering for a moment. "What if I explained the origin of these photos. This is a close friend of mine whose preference is for somewhat young pussy, but not just any pussy. This is his daughter, the third one he's trained to serve him. He was the first one to use his daughter's virgin cunt. He prepared her with proper training, and then deflowered her before witnesses."

My captor's eyes lit up as he surveyed the readouts. "Ah, now we're getting somewhere. A significantly heightened response at knowing that this is pure incest, father-daughter incest-society's great taboo, however illogical." He moved in front of me. "Tell me the truth, Greta, because lying will be punished severely. Was it your dear Daddy who first touched you here?" He cupped my sex in his strong hand. "Was it he who taught you what this opening was designed for? Was the first cock you sucked your father's?"
I gritted my teeth, and he squeezed my mound hard, then yanked at the hair until I cried out. "Yes! He was the one."
"Excellent! That will make my work so much easier. When, Greta? How old was your virgin pussy when he first used it for his pleasure?"
"Fourteen," I admitted, my face blazing with shame. He raised my chin.
"He was quite patient then. So that was when he fucked you. But what about before that? He played with you before that, didn't he? Taught you games, how to rub your hands on his cock, how to masturbate yourself for him?"
"Yes."
"What else?"
When I didn't answer he flicked the riding crop across one nipple. I felt as if I'd been electrocuted there.
"Questions I ask always require thoughtful and truthful answers?"

My mind was working furiously. There were so many times, so many little games. "He liked bathe me, rub soap all over me. And sometimes, when were home alone, I'd come to his bed and straddle him so that I could slide back and forth on his cock as it lay against his stomach. That was before... before I got old enough that he put it in me."

"Fucked you would be better terminology. More basic. And as you slid your wet hairless little slit back and forth on his hardness, you had orgasms, didn't you?"
I debated the answer, but my nipple was still on fire. "Yes, I did."

He smiled broadly. "Hardly anything to be embarrassed about. Happens in the best of families, and it should. What better place to train a proper bitch? But that's not what bothers you, is it? It's that you liked it, you enjoyed servicing Daddy's fat cock, being his fucktoy, didn't you?"
This time I couldn't seem to form an answer, but he took pity on me. "Of course you did. He licked your soft smooth slit, made you squirm with pleasure, rewarded you for being a good little girl. And taught you to enjoy being owned, being fucked. Believe me, you will again."

He picked up the next folder. "I think this might prove interesting." These were photos mostly of women together, but not just making love to each other. In some, one woman was clearly grinding her pussy into a tied woman's mouth while a man looked on. My captor found a significant rise in the readings. "Now which would you rather be... the woman on top, or the woman serving?" He ran his fingers over my nipples. "I daresay you'd like to be forced to eat her pussy, especially if a man fucks you while you do it." An interesting conundrum for a woman as powerful as you are in the world of finance, always giving orders, making demands. And look at you now. Your slit is dripping at the thought of Daddy's cock, at the image of that girl being lewdly spread open for public viewing. And even servicing another pussy. Fascinating."

Next came a series of a woman in a fenced in yard or corral. She wore a collar and a leather animal halter that made her breasts distend until they dragged the ground as she crawled on all fours. These photos had titles - Barnyard Bitch in Heat, and so forth. Some showed men's cocks dangling near her mouth and ass. In others, it looked as though a dog was preparing to mount her while the men watched. To my horror, my reaction showed a response on the meter.

He laughed out loud. "Definitely the submissive, my dear Greta. You can see yourself on all fours, these enormous udders dangling in the dirt. Perhaps there is a dog in your future. At the very least you will spend much time on your hands and knees. In my experience, submissives are very much like livestock, and can effectively and profitably be treated as such. They respond with animal instinct. When a bitch dog or a cow is in heat, they'll take anything shoved into them, just like a properly submissive human bitch. As a matter of fact, some of them become so accustomed to the role, they end up being kept in stables and kennels, mounted, bred, fed out of bowls or troughs. Some of my clients have invited me to their estates and farms to observe the progress of some of the fine bitches I've acquired for them. But, we are getting a little off the mark here."

He opened the last folder he'd brought from the files. At first glance, I thought they were merely of another gangrape he'd staged. But I caught myself staring when I realized it was more than that. A white woman in chains was being impaled on an enormous black cock. Another one stretched her mouth. A black man's hands were pulling her nipples so hard her breasts were distended to their maximum limits. The next photo followed quickly-the woman lying on the ground while six black men jerked off on her body. one had his naked foot pressed into her cunt. She actually looked as if she were humping it. And lastly, a triple penetration of enormous cocks.

The response meter actually beeped. My captor looked utterly pleased with himself. "So, my demanding little bitch... that's the best one of all. Black studs raping your every hole." He put the folders back. "Just to be sure." He spread my pussy lips, pulled out the probe and examined me manually. His fingers came out covered with wetness which he wiped on my face and lips. "Taste your own arousal. You passed the test. Simply put, deep down inside you're a natural slut. And it's time you took on your proper role. You will need conditioning, however."
"You can't keep me here," I suddenly screamed at him, angry and humiliated. "Surely you don't think I can just go missing. My husband will certainly have called the police by now, when I disappeared from the restaurant."
"I'm not very worried about that. And I don't think your husband is worried either. But I am concerned about your lack of obedience and your attitude."

He retrieved the rubber phallus from the table and came toward me. I struggled against the restraints to no avail. But instead of putting in my mouth, he shoved it rudely between my legs and up inside me. I yelped. It wasn't all that big, but I was so shocked. He pumped it in and out several times, while staring at me, unsmilingly. And I was ashamed at how easily it moved. This was no dry hole he was raping with a dildo. Then he pulled it out, grasped my jaw in an iron grip to force it open, and shoved the wet object into my mouth. I couldn't turn my head away, and nearly gagged as it hit the back of my throat. He buckled the straps, securing it firmly in place. " I tried to protest though my mouth was full.

He shook his head in disgust. "Does the word silence have no meaning for you? I don't mind a few screams when punishment is administered, but that dildo was only a reminder of what a bitch's mouth is primarily for, and you are still trying to talk. That won't do, Greta."

From a drawer nearby he removed a very thin 1/2 inch wide strap, perhaps four or five feet long. On each end was the sort of hook that latches into a loop. He quickly clipped one end on a ring at the front of my collar, ran the strap between my legs, parted my pussy lips with his fingers, then reached around to grasp the other end. I felt my ass cheeks being spread, and something being pressed against the tight sphincter. "I suggest you relax, or this might prove uncomfortable." I tried, and whatever it was may not have been huge, but it seemed so at first. Then it got past the muscle and settled itself inside my ass. Next, there was a new sensation as the strap was pulled taut against my clit, and deep between the lips of my pussy, and firmly seated between the cheeks of my ass, pressing against whatever object he'd inserted in me. I heard him snap the other end of the clip on the back of my collar. I couldn't avoid a small yelp and I lowered my head, trying to take some of the tension off the leather strap.

"No, that won't quite do," he said as he came back around in front of me and firmly lifted my chin. I squirmed as the strap pulled taut again. "Your head will stay erect because we are about to begin visual stimulation." If you drop your head, I will replace the butt plug I have already inserted with something much larger, and less pleasant. Besides, I think you will discover that every movement of your collar will cause some interesting stimulation to your dripping cunt."

"He went to the wall and flipped some switches. A screen came down in front of the mirror, and ceiling projector flickered to life. Videos, he was going to show me videos.

Thus began at least two hours of non-stop pornography. His collection was extensive. One after another, he chose high quality films of the topics he had deduced I found most fascinating. And all of them were real, not staged. Periodically, he stood behind me and pinched my almost numb nipples. I could feel a hard bulge in his pants, pressed against my ass. Other than that, he did nothing except comment from time to time.

"What do you think of that?" he asked periodically, "do you like that?" knowing full well I couldn't answer. "Just nod your head for me, Greta." He knew that each time I did, the strap moved back and forth on my clit. Without realizing it, I began to do so without being asked, tipping my head in tiny movements, just enough to rub my aching clit.

If he noticed, he didn't comment. The next film began. "Another of my experiments, a white woman thoroughly fucked by four black gentlemen. Notice how they verbally abuse her as well. It's really quite just if you think about it. They're able to exact a certain revenge for the way their ancestors were treated. That's why we filmed this experiment on a vintage movie set, circa early 1700s. The roles are reversed. I've often wondered what it would be like to create such a world, to not only time travel, but to jump into mirror universes. In this one, the black man is the master, and the woman is chattel."

"Why do you suppose it's such a deliciously wicked taboo? Simply because of skin color. But there's something so arousing about a stupendous black dick stretching a white pussy. You wouldn't mind being that woman, now would you. See how she's starting to moan, how her hips are moving as my 'technician' pumps that enormous rod into her cunt. And she's practically swallowing another completely. She even seems to like how roughly he's mauling her tits. You do to,, or you wouldn't be trying to masturbate yourself on that leather strap."
I felt myself blush.

"So tell me, Greta, how did it feel when that happened to you?"
I felt myself go cold inside, and was, for the first time, very grateful for the dildo in my mouth that prevented an answer. But I wasn't going to get off that easily. He unstrapped it and pulled it from between my aching jaws.
"You may answer now," he said pleasantly.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Lying is punishable, I will keep reminding you of that. But I suspect this is rather difficult for you in these initial stages, so I will only inflict a mild reminder." He gave both nipples another stunning blow with his riding crop. I gritted my teeth, afraid that an outcry would provoke another lash.

"Actually, Greta, I already know the truth. Let's just say I have a knack for finding out old secrets." He looked me in the eyes. "University, your second year. Drunken binge at the pub, your usual round of cockteasing, then a ride in another student's van to the next party, only it was a very small party, you and three black male students. You must have known pretty much what could happen, but you went along anyway. Of course, having some measure of integrity, you wouldn't press charges, and the school hushed it up. But that's what happened. Was it like that, Greta, those images you're seeing now? Did they violate you in every way, amuse themselves with your pink pussy, lily white tits and ass? Did you swallow their cocks and suck hungrily while they fingered and fucked you? How many times did you cum that night? Or do you even remember? Yet I'm quite sure you did."

My face was flaming with remembrance of that night. He was right on all counts, but I refused to admit it.

"Come now, honesty is always best." He moved aside and with his remote, he froze the image of the man who was roughly abusing the girl's breasts. Then he suddenly squeezed my swollen tits and then mashed them against my chest. I whimpered and moaned, and he chuckled. "A little pain, but much pleasure. You are transparent. And I tend to think your slut cunt feels very empty. But I like it that way... you needing it badly. And it will be much worse before I allow you the privilege of a large dildo, let alone the honor of servicing a male member.

"First the other phases, and your satisfaction is far down the list. We still must accomplish your complete humiliation, your utter degradation. You must see yourself as an object, as I do. As you've been seeing in that mirror for many hours. You hanging here, exposed, nothing more than a piece of ass. And behind that mirror, all day, my employees and guests have been in and out observing your progress."

I was mortified to discover that I was not alone in my humiliation, but had been public entertainment-a twisted little sex show.
"Keep watching the screen, my little bitch. All that penetration. Ah, and here is my favorite daddy-daughter film... so soft and virginal, and her father, he is a strict one. Not a terribly tender seduction, is it?. But I like how he reddens her ass first, and then teaches her to suck his cock before fucking her." He squeezed my breasts again. "These were much smaller back then, but I imagine your father liked them tiny, didn't he." He stepped closer and whispered in my ear as he tickled the hair on my pussy. "At first he came to your room every night, didn't he? Hmm? Made you sleep naked so he could just climb on top of you and slide his cock into your mouth or between your legs. And you fingered yourself waiting for him, didn't you? Wanted him to fuck you so badly."

My whole body was shaking with arousal, no matter how hard I tried not to show it. But he knew. He ran his fingers over my belly. "I read your file. You have a brother who's three years older. When did Daddy start letting him fuck you, too. After he'd had you a while. Then, what was his name, Garrett, ah yes. A horny teenager must have kept you busy sucking and fucking. He use you like a slut? Answer me?"
"Yes," I nodded meekly.

"Used you to relieve his morning erection, no doubt. Keep watching the film, Greta. This is where my friend let his brother, the girl's uncle, have her. The two of them handling her, spreading her open,... look at her holding both their cocks, licking each one in turn. Who else did you service for Daddy? Or perhaps your brother Garrett? There were others, I'm quite sure. Daddy's best friend, his boss perhaps? Answer!"
"His business partner, and a man he owed money to."
"Ah, and your brother. Surely he brought home a friend or two. Wanted to show off his cocksucking little sister."
"Yes," I whispered.
"When did Daddy make you stop wearing panties to school?"

I was stunned. How could he know all this. No one knew! "When I was 15, and started high school."
"How delightful... a naked cunt within reach of all those horny boys. I would imagine that your father began to tire of just fucking you when you got to be about 16 and amused himself by making you act the slut. Fuck any boy who asked perhaps? I would imagine, if he's anything like some of my friends, that he liked to take you to pornographic movies and make you suck him off where all the perverts could see your head bobbing up and down on his cock. That would amuse him and satisfy your latent exhibitionism. So, did he do that?"
I dropped my head in shame. How could this man know so much about my life? "Yes... and..." I stopped, but it was too late. He caught the 'and' in my response.
"There was more, wasn't there? More to the movie house game. What was it, Greta? And again, don't lie to me, or omit any detail." He cupped my mound in his hand. "And speak clearly so that your audience can hear you."
My belly was on fire, my face blushing furiously. His grip got tighter and my tits were so swollen already. "There were only four other men in the theater, all of them jacking off under their coats. It was the middle of the night. When they realized what I was doing, they all came and sat down close enough to really see."
"So they watched you suck your father's dick. And what else?"
"He talked to them, he told them I was a cheap whore he'd picked up on the street and I'd agreed to suck him off for five dollars, or $20 for whatever he wanted."

My captor smiled. "And I imagine the others thought that was a bargain."
"When one of them asked if he could be next, my dad said yes, and I had to crawl down the sticky aisle and suck another guy."
"You did them all, I take it?"
"Yes, but not there. The movie ended and the lights started coming up. Dad said he had to take a leak and he was taking his whore with him. If anyone else wanted to come along, they could."
"This is getting better and better, Greta. Your father was quite the artist of domination. So what happened in the men's room?"

"He rented me to them. He made me strip completely and I had to take two cocks at a time. One in my pussy and one in my mouth. When they'd all cum, Daddy said he still had to take a leak. There was this big round urinal in the center of the room, big enough so a dozen men could stand around it. And I had to get into it and spread my legs and masturbate while they all relieved themselves on me."
"Greta, you are perfect, and you amuse more than most others have. Such a tawdry and delightfully slutty adolescence. Excellent. I assume, of course, that your father took many pictures and films and kept a record of your training."

"I will have to obtain those and see them for myself. And you will admit, my sweet little bitch, that you were wet every moment of it, wet and hungry for more, and panting to be filled up... until your father found new amusements, and you went away and decided to be in control of your own life and stop being the hungry slut you really are."
"Yes."
"Well, it's time to return to your natural self, Greta, though not primarily for your sake. It's actually for the satisfaction of the man to whom are married."

"What?!" My head snapped up. "He would never want me to be this way. Never."
"But that's where you are sadly mistaken. You are only here because your husband wanted you to be. I have many powerful friends, my little slut, but I'm not foolish enough to simply take a woman of your social standing and high profile. That could draw far too much attention to my little hobby, a business sort of. Call it a training center. And your husband has paid handsomely for your education. I imagine he's arranged some sort of explanation as to why you are not cracking the whip today at your company."
"I don't believe you."
"Doesn't really matter if you do, but I assure you that the most eager observer of your experiences today has been sitting in a comfortable chair behind that mirror, your dear husband. And a lovely and very subservient slave of my own has been attending to his needs while he watches me teach you how to perform that role properly. She is a quite an adept cocksucker. Just think about it, Greta. All this time I have been arousing you, controlling you, humiliating you, making you reveal your darkest secrets, your husband as been happily reclining in a soft chair, a drink at hand, and a slut's warm mouth wrapped around his cock. I wonder how many times he's cum from watching me do things like this." Once more he mauled my breasts. "And from hearing how much having your pussy used and exposed really excites you."

I was too shocked to think of anything to say. Peter himself had orchestrated this humiliation. But why? And I'd never told him about my past. Now he knew everything, all the things I'd kept secret. But why had be brought me to this place?

"I think some audio stimulation would be helpful at this point. I've recorded a number of conversations with all types of individuals, both male and female. Embedded within these audio files are thousands of suggestions, inaudible to the human ear, but quite accessible by the mind. Sometimes you will hear music, followed by more dialogue. And always the whisper you cannot hear will be remind you of your true nature."

"This first transcription is from an ex-soldier who ran a secret interrogation camp many years ago. I won't say when or where. But he still enjoys remembering his exploits there and he was willing to share them with me since there are few with whom he can be quite so honest and open."
My captor placed large acoustic headphones over my ears, effectively blocking off all other sound. Then he wrapped a blindfold around my eyes. And, after a few bars of something classical, a voice began. It sounded old, and harsh-toned.
"So, you ask me about the bitch rapes." He chuckled. "No, it wasn't for interrogation, not really. Most of those cunts knew nothing of value. But we called it interrogation. Made the big muckety-mucks turn a blind eye to what went on. But the cunts were for entertainment-mine and the soldiers in my command. Besides, what else was there to do besides fuck pussy? The prison and the compound was secure. Those sorry bastards couldn't have escaped. And what were we gonna do? Sit around and play cards and watch stupid movies when we could be doing every bitch in sight.
So we had a lot of time to be creative. Those first few weeks it was so easy to grab any cunt within reach and shove your cock into one of her holes. We'd emptied out whole villages during the summer campaign, men women and children. The compound was crawling with pussy-young ones, old ones, whatever. Everyone could indulge their vice of choice.
So at first we just raped at random. That was fun for a while since we almost always did it for an audience. And we'd whip 'em with belts. But even that gets old. So we came up with good games, because humiliating the bitches was more fun. Got us harder, we could fuck longer, punish their pussies and asses longer."

"We had the stocks, of course. Specially built to put them on display, their heads locked in so you could fuck their mouths. And their asses nice and high. Gave easy access to both holes. We'd leave a bitch their for a week, mark her up with a whip, put weights on her tits so they'd hang down low. That was a punishment for them, so we'd hold contests to see who wouldn't have to go the stocks. We'd get a dozen or so in the stables, and then make them compete to see who could beg the loudest to be fucked, or suck the hardest and longest, or really abase herself. One slut was so afraid of the stocks, she offered to lick my boots, suck my cock, lick my ass, and bark like a dog. We made her do all of it, then I put her in the stocks anyway." The man chuckled, then wheezed a little.

"Another good game was blindfolding the men and women and pairing them up anyway we wanted, making them suck and fuck and sodomize. Then once they'd cum, we'd take off the blindfolds so the men could see they'd just fucked their daughters, sons had fucked their mothers and sisters. Sometimes we'd make them choose. We'd ask a man, which pussy do you want to fuck most-your daughter, or your mother? Pick one or we'll send them both to the dirtiest whorehouse in the city.
And we had a round-robin fuckhole room. One of my men thought it up. Quite ingenious really. He rigged up cradles to lay the sluts in, and then the cradles slid under a low wall so that all you could see was twenty pairs of legs with a cunt in the middle. They couldn't see at all who was using their pussies, and we didn't care. It was ultimately dehumanizing. Later we added a second feature where we locked their heads in position between clamps, blindfolded them, and they just became mouths for cocksucking.

"Yes, you asked about whether the bitches got pregnant. Of course they did. We didn't care whether they were in heat or not when we fucked 'em. So we had a breeding program. Of course the war went on for 18 years, so we had plenty of time to enjoy the fruits of our fucking, lots of virginal pussy to break in. It was a good time to be a soldier. My command had a good reputation. Got promoted twice when some of the general officers dropped in for some entertainment. I'm only sorry the war ended, or I'd still have some slut sucking on my dick three times a day."

There was a another music clip, and I felt a brief sting in my arm as the next voice began, this time a young woman's soft tones. "I belong to Sir Reginald. I'm his favorite bitch, at least for now. It pleases him that I lick his wife's pussy every day, and keep her satisfied. My master also breeds championship German Shepherds. His best stud male is Gerhard, and I service Gerhard, too, as an entertainment... " the voice seemed to fade into the distance, and I could hear only a buzzing though somewhere in the buzzing there were words I couldn't quite make out. My head fell back, and the leather strap yanked between my legs, but it no longer pained me at all. I wanted it to rub harder, and harder. I began to flail my head to pull at the strap. I could feel the anal plug rocking back and forth in me. It felt so delicious, and I couldn't get enough. There seemed to be hands jiggling my tits, fingers pinching the wrapped nipples. I wanted that, too, more. Most of all though, I wanted something IN me... something hard and thick and long... something stretching my fuckhole... rutting into me until I couldn't think, until I could cum over and over and over. But I was sinking into a grey cloud. And then it was all just darkness except for something sliding deep into my aching cunt.

What I got...

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