Slave's Indoctrination Diary - 3

February 5th

When they said today was going to be busy, they weren't kidding. I am tired and sore, but in a good way. I'm not much of a gym rat, mostly because I don't have the time or money, but there is a certain exhilaration you get from a thorough workout. That's how I feel now.

I was awakened by a guard. The guy in his 30s that I was referring to as the elder guard yesterday.

I don't know any of their names, except for Robert last night which was pure chance. It doesn't really matter since I'm not allowed to speak anyways. It was startling to wake up and have some strange guy standing over you. Yet, I quickly adjusted, remembering where I was.

He permitted me to use the toilet and wash my hands. Once again, it was strange to have a man watching me, but I guess I'll just have to adjust.

He laid out 2 bowls on the floor. This time I didn't need prompting. I knelt down and ate my breakfast like a good doggie. It was kind of of a granola and fruit mix. Tasty, and more importantly, not oatmeal. I was even getting better at lapping up my water.

Like the previous morning, he was mostly quiet, except for the occasional command.

He attached a leash to my collar, led me out of the room and down the corridor. Along the way, I saw two other young naked women being led on leash in the same direction as me. One was the blonde I briefly saw last night, and the other was Asian.

We arrived at the showers, the same shower as the previous day. There were two additional women already there, a Latino, and a blonde woman in her mid to late 30s. This group shower was apparently simply part of the morning routine, because none of the women gave any indication of being nervous or outraged. All of the women were beautiful in their own way, which ironically made me self-conscious. And except for the lady in her late 30s, the other 3 were like me in their late teens or early 20s.

The blonde in her 30s and the young Latino had already been placed in the stainless steel handcuffs, and their hands were bound to the hook above them.

The men worked with a practiced ease, saying little to one another. The girls seemed to accept this treatment as well, as there were no signs of resistance.

The Asian girl who was ahead of me was led to a shower spot, and stood patiently next to the girls already bound to the overhead hooks. She made no motion as the steel cuffs were placed on her wrists, and her hands were raised up into the hook, trapping her. Her collar was removed, and then they left her hanging.

Meanwhile, the young blonde and I stood back and watched. We each had a guard who had us on a leash. We could also see there were two more hooks, and we awaited our turn to be strung up like a meat carcass.

This was terrifying yesterday. Yet today, this was just how slaves were washed. While it was nice to be among other young women again, our mutual acquiescence to our male captors reinforced the belief that this was just the new norm.

Not that I was any better than the others. When my time came, I stood still as they placed the cuffs on me. I allowed them to bind me to the hook, which fully exposed my unprotected body.

The men acted in an assembly line fashion. One of the men washed us, and shaved us if necessary. A second dried us off and reattached our collar and leather cuffs. A third applied a skin lotion that soothed any bruises such as a red bottom, and made our skin smooth and shiny. The fourth man brushed our hair and gave us a final inspection for stray hairs, etc. They worked their way down the line. One girl was washed, unhooked, and then handed off to the next man. It worked because all of us girls accepted being treated as products, and patiently awaited our own turn to be manhandled.

Likewise, the guys were completely professional. Even though they were touching us naked women all over our bodies, and all of us were attractive, they didn't appear to be aroused. They had done it all before, and had no problem treating us like livestock.

It dawned on me that there were 4 men, and 5 women, which told me that one of us was submitting without any need for supervision. That person soon became apparent.

Our leashes were reattached, except for the woman in her mid to late 30s, and we were led out of the room.

I noticed as we were walking that there was a mark on the right shoulder blade of the unleashed blonde. It was somewhat faded, telling me it was at least a few years old. It wasn't a tattoo, and appeared to be a burn mark. Yet, this was no accident, there was a distinct pattern, a symbol. I nearly gasped when it dawned on me. This was a brand. She had been branded like livestock.

We walked in an orderly, single-file manner to wherever the men were guiding us. As it turns out, it was a studio space.

To my surprise, though apparently no one else, the men all left the room. The elder blonde stepped forward, appearing to be an instructor.

"OK bitches, let's pick up where we left off yesterday, practicing our slave positions. You, Brunette..." she pointed at me. "... just follow me and learn."

"Liz. My name is Liz."

"No one gives a shit what your name is bitch, and no one gave you permission to speak. Shut up, and follow my lead."

So much for women's solidarity. I kept my mouth shut, realizing there were no allies here.

"Let's start with Bara." Our instructor, and the other girls, lay face down, crossed their wrists behind their back, and crossed their ankles. I followed suit.

"Good Brunette," The instructor called out to me. "Now just keep your head down, look to your left. Always keep your head down. There is no reason for you to be aware of what's happening. You are an object waiting for a man to use you."

We held that position for 10 to 15 minutes. It was certainly not strenuous, but it was uncomfortable on the hardwood floor. It really did give the sense that we were waiting, waiting for a man to use us.

"Next position, Bracelets." We all changed position, so that we were kneeling up with our legs spread wide, hands clasped behind our backs, and staring ahead.

"Shoulders back Brunette. I want to see your tits out. You too Blondie, you know your melons are what men want to see."

I was caught off guard by a woman using such crude terms. Yet, I suppose that was the point. We were learning to objectify ourselves. And to be fair, the blonde's D-cup breasts are impressive.

I suppose if I did yoga, or some form of exercise, I wouldn't have much trouble holding a pose. However, my arms and shoulders were already feeling the tension as we held this position for at least 15 minutes.

"Next position, Belly." Once again I followed the others' example, laying face down, arms at my side, legs spread wide, and head down. Technically, it was an easy pose to hold. However, it was more humiliating. It's only purpose was to make yourself exposed and vulnerable, waiting for a man to use you.

For the next couple hours we rotated through a series of slave positions. Sometimes the elder blonde, as I started to call her in my head, would repeat a position just to keep us on our toes, and to reinforce knowing the poses. Most of the position names made sense, such as: Hair, Collaring, Leading, Leash, Run Command, Slave Lips, Table, Tower, Walk, and Whipping. This last one filled me with a particular dread. If they were training us for what position to take for a whipping, it meant that there would be more whippings. I suppose I suspected that, but it didn't help for it to be confirmed.

Then there were the unusual names which I had to repeat in my head to remember them.

Apparently there is a whole culture for the enslavement of women. One that I am being indoctrinated into. That's not comforting. How else do you explain names such as: Bara, Nadu, She-Sleen, or Sula.

Equally confusing were the terms that could mean anything. For example, Obedience. Weren't all the positions a demonstration of obedience? And then, there was Slaver's Kiss, which is nothing like Slave Lips, and closer to the position for a whipping. Perhaps I'm just thinking too much. A quality that is clearly not valued in a slave.

This doesn't sound all that intense. Alternatively kneeling, laying down, bending over, and stretching out. Yet my muscles tensed up, and the hardwood floor was unforgiving. It became increasingly hard to hold each position for 10 to 15 minutes.

It was like a form of meditation. I had to concentrate on holding each pose, making me focus on my muscles, my breathing, and the slightest movement. I was memorizing each position, the name, and where each part of my body should be. I internalized what each pose meant.

For example, the positions Hair and Leading were relatively easy to adopt. It's just bending over with your arms behind your back. Yet, as your core muscles begin to tighten, and your back becomes sore, how do you maintain the proper height? Is your hair flowing down properly? You want to be positioned perfectly so a master can easily seize your hair or grab you by the collar. That was just it. I wanted to entice a master to claim me.

There was even an element of competitiveness. The other girls were all so beautiful. They looked so serene, elegant, and yes, docile, as they adopted the various poses. Their features were amplified in a manner that highlighted their beauty. I instinctively wanted to show that I belonged, that I could convince a man to choose me over them.

It occurs to me that it was similar to yesterday's whipping. I was managing my physical discomfort by embracing my submission. Was my pussy properly exposed? Were my shoulders back to present my tits? Was my backside raised enough to expose my cunt so a man could easily mount me? Were my wrists and ankles positioned correctly to be easily shackled? I was constantly thinking of how to demonstrate that I was a good slave. It never occurred to me that I should be thinking about what I want. I only thought about what others, my masters, would want from me.

We got a break from our exercises as two of the guards entered the studio. One being my elder guard. "OK bitches, lunch time."

Ordinarily, one would think men would be surprised, or at least aroused by 5 naked women kneeling with their head down, ass up, and legs spread in a whipping position. Not our guards. They had seen it all before.

Initially, I was kind of resentful. We are doing all this work to please them, and they didn't even care. Yet, I calmed down from my internal turmoil. I was a slave, and I will be used when, and however they see fit. My duty was to be ready, and to accept it.

Kneeling down to eat from the bowls they set down on the floor in front of us seemed perfectly natural. Nor did any of the other girls object.

I noticed that the elder blonde spoke quietly to my guard. It was clear that we were not meant to speak, but she was afforded some privileges as a trainer. That being said, she was still naked, collared, and ate her meal from the floor like the rest of us slave girls.

With our lunch over, and the men gone once more, our trainer took charge once more. "OK bitches! It's time for some throat training."

I didn't know what that meant until she retrieved a dildo from the bag the guards had brought in. It was rather realistic with the cock and balls, except for its size. I haven't had a lot of boyfriends to be an expert on this, but this was well above the average size. It had a suction cup at its base, so she pressed it against the wall adjacent to the Asian girl.

"Here you go, Suk Wong," then giggled at her awful pun. It was blatantly racist and degrading.

The Asian girl took it in stride, leaning forward to lick the phallus. I suppose given her current circumstance, a little verbal degradation was par for the course.

Our instructor proceeded to mound a phallus on the wall for each of us, including one for her.

"OK bitches, I want to see you sucking these cocks, and licking those balls. I want to see them going deep in your throats."

Hesitantly, we all shuffled forward, and took the cocks into our mouths. We had just finished our meal, so we were already on our knees. Unlike the other exercises, our instructor walked around, watching each of us, and judging our cocksucking techniques. She didn't say anything, but from the shake of her head, I could see she was disappointed.

I rarely gave my boyfriends a blowjob. I thought it was disgusting and generally refused to do it. So, my technique thus far was simply not gagging.

I found that the phallus itself was quite realistic, based on my limited experience. It had the right hardness with veins along its length. The outer skin shifted slightly with our lips like a real cock. It wasn't clear what material it was made from. Although it was obviously artificial, it didn't have the taste and feel of rubber. The balls were full, but softer. There was even a slight musky smell that reminded me of the disgusting smell which repelled me when doing this for real.

Our instructor pulled us all together after seeing our attempts. "Well, that was terrible! Not one of you deepthroated the cock. I didn't see much saliva to provide lubrication. And none of you seemed happy. This is the symbol of manhood!" She pointed at a phallus. "It is the thing which embodies their superiority! We shouldn't just stick it in our mouth, and suck on it like we're sucking our thumbs. We should worship the cock! We should show our masters that we are honoured to be of service!"

It was an impassioned speech. A week ago I would have called her crazy, and a slut. Yet, after a morning of adopting various poses that accentuated our bodies, and our desire to be of service, it all sounded true. We all nodded, accepting our verbal reprimand.

"OK, I want you to come closer so you can see. I'm going to demonstrate how to worship a cock properly." She knelt down before her phallus. She was on all fours with her legs spread.

I noted that she said 'worship a cock', and not suck it. It reinforced that this was much more than a blowjob or cocksucking. Everything we did was more than a physical act, but also a way of thinking.

She licked along the full length of the shaft, leaving her saliva dripping from it, and then took it in her mouth. More licking, then back in her mouth, even deeper. She licked and sucked the balls while stroking the cock with her hand. She rarely used her hand, but when she did it was in a rotating motion that massaged the cock, rather than just holding it.

We knelt around her, observing closely, and marveling at how she took it deeper and deeper. I was stunned, and so were the others, when she reached the base. I mean, this phallus had to be 9 inches in length, and thick. It was a monster cock, but she had taken it all the way in. You could see the bulge in her throat as she held it in, cutting off her air way.

She pulled back, gulping in air before lodging the monster deep in her throat once more. She was tearing up, struggling for breath. She pulled back, pausing to like the balls, before deepthroating the phallus once more.

I had the sense that she could have kept going for a while. If this was a real cock, she would have sucked it until she was rewarded with a warm load of cum. However, she had provided a good demonstration, and now turned back to us.

"OK bitches. Let's see what you can do."

I must admit, I was nervous. It was clear what she expected, and ultimately what our masters expected. Yet, despite seeing her do it, and attentively watching how she relaxed her throat, managed her breathing, etc., I doubted my ability. I wanted to though.

This time, she did offer some instruction as she observed us. Instructions which we all followed, even if it was directed at one of us.

"Come on Suk Wong, get those legs spread. You need to show the masters your cute little pussy is still available for use, even if your mouth is occupied."

I don't know why the racist slur offended me. We were all being denigrated, so a bit of racism shouldn't matter to a group of bitches. It didn't seem to matter to the Asian girl.

"Relax your breath Chica. Think of it like a yawn. Open up that throat. Only this time, something is going in rather than coming out."

I could hear the Latino girl gag, and then coughing and gasping for breath. I was also beginning to accept the racist denigrating terms.

"That's OK, it will take some practice to get over your gag reflex." Our instructor had a surprisingly soothing tone. "You don't have to rush it. Keep licking, and slowly adjust your throat to take it all in. Remember, it's not about our pride. It's about pleasuring our masters."

I was listening intently as I continued to worship the phallus. The yawning analogy did help me to stretch open my throat.

"Oh come on Blondie, you can go deeper than that. Big titted blondes like us are meant to be slaves. Don't make us look bad by not taking a cock deep in your throat."

Even though she was beside me, I couldn't make out what was happening in my periphery vision. I did hear more gagging.

"That's better. All the way down your throat where it belongs. Now just hold it. Your throat contractions feel nice on a master's cock."

If that bitch could do it, so could I. I redoubled my efforts. Blondes make the best slaves? I'll show them.

I successfully reached the base of the cock just as the instructor's attention turned to me. Internally I was rejoicing, and perhaps I was expecting some compliment.

Perhaps in a way I did. Her hand brushed along my sex, and she thrust 2 fingers inside me.

I pulled back from the cock and gasped, looking back at her.

She smacked my ass with her other hand. "Back on the cock!"

I immediately complied.

"What is being done to you is irrelevant. Your duty is to service your master's cock. If another master wants to slide his cock into you, and start fucking you, then you keep sucking. If they want to molest you, fuck you, whip you, it's irrelevant. You keep sucking."

She grabbed my hair and pulled me off the cock. Her other hand now had 4 fingers inside me. "Who does this pussy belong to? You or your masters?"

"My masters."

"That's right!" She pushed my head back onto the cock. "So you never take your attention off your master's cock. If another master chooses to use you, then that is none of your business. They have the right to do whatever they want."

"Your mouth," She stroked my cheek. "... Your tits," she squeezed one of breasts, and pinched a nipple. "... Your ass," She delivered a hard slap. "... and your pussy, all belongs to them. You are their property. So, you never stop without permission, and certainly not to concern yourself with how they are using their property." Her fingers were thrusting quickly, hitting just the right spot.

I moaned, but managed to keep it muffled with the phallus in my mouth. It was hard to keep the dick lodged in my throat as my breath quickened with my arousal. The desire to service this cock heightened my arousal.

I held as still as possible as a climax rode throughout my body. It was only my second orgasm since 'arriving' here. Again, it was from my cunt being fingered by another person. Even my frequent masturbation in the cell had left me frustrated. All my pent up erotic tension over how wrong this was had now come flooding out. Literally.

Eventually, it was too much. I pulled back, coughing and gasping for breath. I expected to be chastised by my instructor for taking my mouth off the cock. Yet, she was surprisingly forgiving. Her fingers which were still deep in my pussy felt the waves of my orgasm.

She pulled her fingers out, dripping with my juices. She raised them to my mouth, allowing me to taste my own arousal. I licked them clean.

"Not bad," she said. I could tell from her breathy tone that she was aroused as well. "A little pro tip that you'll have more of a sense of when sucking a real cock. You can increase the intensity by sucking in and out, bobbing your head up and down on the cock. And when you feel the man tense up... He may place his hand on your head to hold you in place... Then you wrap your lips around his cock. You can also cup his balls, caressing them. You should have the cock fully in your mouth so your tongue and lips are stimulating him, but not in your throat. You want to be in a position to swallow every drop of his cum. If it's in your throat it can go down your airway, and you'll end up coughing and spitting it out which would be a huge insult."

She was gently stroking my hair which was very soothing. "You don't want to do this too quickly, otherwise you will appear too eager to get this over with. Remember, your only desire is to worship the cock. However, it can be quite erotic to channel the intensity of your orgasm onto your master's cock so that you can cum at the same time. As I said, one downside of these," she tapped the artificial cock, making it bounce unnaturally. ",,, is that there is no delicious cum in the end."

She stood up and patted my bum. "Good job. Let's keep going." She rotated back to the other girls. I resumed sucking my phallus, worshipping it.

We kept it up for a while, practicing our new found techniques.

As if sensing our thoughts, likely from her own experience, our instructor called out. "Remember bitches, if your jaws and throats are getting sore, you can always take a break by using your hands, and licking his balls. You can't stop worshipping your master, but you can show your devotion in different ways."

This was very revealing. So long as I was submitting, I could be forgiven for errors. Needless to say, I began licking the balls immediately to relieve my aching jaw.

The logic of using these artificial cocks became clear as we kept going. We could experiment with our technique, and bit by bit we all lost our gag reflex. No man could stay hard like this for over an hour. And not to boast, but I think they would have cum long ago.

Our mouths weren't getting a reprieve in the next exercise though. Our guide had other ideas.

"OK bitches, it's time for you to learn a different oral stimulation. One in which you have no control."

She was wearing a large strap-on. I think I understood what she was implying, but I was hoping I was wrong.

"It's time for you bitches to get face fucked!"

That's what I was afraid of. She scanned the room choosing her first victim.

"Let's start with you Chica." She stepped towards the Latino girl, trapping her against the wall. She grabbed a fist full of her hair, holding her in place. "Open your mouth bitch!"

The Latina was nervous, but did as instructed, wrapping her lips around the strap-on.

With the grip that the instructor had of her hair, she couldn't move her head. Yet, it soon became apparent that it would never have been possible, as the cock was thrust into her mouth.

"Now, just steady yourself, and open up your throat."

It reminded me of being raped yesterday, remaining steady with my legs open. It was similar. You were being fucked, and you had no control over it.

The Latina was initially struggling to breathe. Yet, ironically she began to relax as the intensity of the strap-on being thrust into her mouth increased. Her surrender allowed her to focus only on her breathing, and her mouth just being another hole to be used.

Next up was Suk Wong, as even I was beginning to refer to her in my head. For such a petite woman her ability to take a monster cock was impressive.

Then came Blondie. It seemed like the elder blonde was especially strict with her. It seemed like there was an expectation for her to be a natural sex bot. She certainly had the features of a bimbo: long blonde hair, big tits, nice curves, and a tanned skin that was unnatural for winter months. Mind you, I had never heard her speak, so she could be a Rhodes scholar for all I knew.

Then, of course it was my turn.

"Open up Brunette. Let's get that throat of yours stretched." She was trapping me against the walk like the others. "You know, I'll have to come up with a better name for you. Perhaps the men will think of something since their smarter than us."

I was tempted to say that I have a name. It's Liz. Yet, I knew that wouldn't go over well, so I held my tongue.

I couldn't have spoken anyways as the large dildo filled my mouth. The benefit of going last meant I had seen the others, and I listened to all the instructions they received. So, I concentrated on opening up my mouth, and allowing the cock to push down my throat. As with the others, she wasn't gentle, and really pushed past any remaining gag reflex I had.

I thought it would be easier than cock sucking. After all, I wasn't doing anything but remaining still. Yet, I was wrong. Despite having learned to stretch my throat open and control my breathing, I started to gag on it.

She didn't relent though. Quite the opposite. She was hammering the prick into my throat.

Instinctively you want to have some control. Even if you are giving pleasure against your will, it is you doing it. This required a complete absence of control. Only acceptance. My mouth is a hole. If I tried to move, the strap-on would hit my throat uncomfortably. If I tried to breathe, I would end up choking. I was getting face fucked and there was nothing I could control; not my movement, my breath, or anything.

I placed my hands on her thighs, instinctively trying to hold back the onslaught.

Big mistake. She did pull out of my mouth, but then slapped me hard. "How dare you use your hands to push back!" she shouted.

I was dazed, and a little frightened. My face was numb from the force of her slap. I cried out, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

I could see that the other girls were also scared, and perhaps a little relieved that they had already passed the test.

Truthfully, I hadn't consciously put my hands on her. It was pure instinct. In retrospect, I realize that is kind of the point. The instinct of a slave should be to remain still, open and vulnerable, and accepting whatever happens to her. I had to understand my place and change my instinct accordingly.

She looked down at me, deciding whether to accept my contrition. "OK then. But when the masters come, I want you to tell them you resisted, and ask for punishment." She gripped my hair, forcing me to look her directly in the eyes. "Do you understand me slut?"

"Yes mistress," I cried out in terror.

She patted me on the head. "That's a good instinct. But I'm not a mistress. I'm just a slave like you, just with years of experience. You can call me Fuck Doll."

"Yes Fuck Doll."

"OK then," she patted my head again. "... and you better not forget to ask for your punishment."

Without another word, she shoved the dildo back into my mouth. I had learned my place. I now remained still with my mouth gaping open, accepting the cock.

She didn't relent for a while, or so it seemed to me. Perhaps she felt the need to be extra rough because I had resisted. Fortunately being last also meant that she was worn out herself. So, eventually she eased off and pulled out, allowing me to cough and gasp for breath.

For the remainder of the afternoon, we returned to practicing our slave poses. We reviewed some from earlier, and learned some new ones.

Fuck Doll now expected us to know them, and delivered a hard slap to our ass if we got something wrong.

I have never been the athletic type, so my body was screaming out in agony by the end of the day. I was relieved when the masters returned. I was happy when a leash was attached to my collar because it meant we were being led out of that room.

As per usual, the men said nothing, and us girls complied without a word. We were led to a rather plain dining room. It had a long table with two benches on either side. There were some high windows through which the fading sunlight gave a warm glow to the room.

Initially it surprised me to see dishes laid out on the table. There was no cutlery, but at least we could be semi-human as we ate. However, the catch was apparent immediately. Along the benches were a series of dildos sticking up from the seat.

It got worse.

"OK bitches," one of the guards spoke up. "I've already lubricated the cocks, now just stand still so I can lube your assholes for penetration."

Fuck Doll was the first one to get her hole stretched. I suppose it shouldn't have surprised me, but her lack of a response showed a practiced ease at being molested and having her ass filled. She even said, "Thank you master."

I suppose we were fortunate to have lots of lubrication to make this more bearable.

Without prompting, Fuck Doll proceeded to the bench, maneuvering herself above a dildo, and guided it into her ass as she sat down. She seemed perfectly comfortable having a dildo deep in her ass.

I was waiting with dread. I'd never had anything in my ass before, and I wasn't eager to experience it. Yet, like everything else, I had no say in the matter.

Apparently the other girls had already lost their anal virginity, because they also appeared to be at ease as their asses were lubricated and they impaled themselves on the dildos.

This left only me. I tensed up, but knew better than to resist, as the guard thrust his oily fingers into my ass. Then at the bench, I hovered over the dildo before forcing myself down onto it.

Fuck Doll was seated across from me and gave me an icy stare. Any hesitation to submit seemed to be a poor reflection on her training.

Upon reflection, I understand that sentiment. I was here learning to submit. I had been plucked out of the world, and dropped into a realm of subjugation and exploitation. This operation was very thorough and organized. There wasn't even a hint of how one could resist, much less escape, and none of the other girls seemed inclined to try. Why should I think I'm better than them? Perhaps I should just accept my place.

At the dining table, I only knew it was pointless to resist. I lowered myself onto the cock, allowing it to slowly pierce my asshole. Even with the lubrication, it was painful. Yet, there was no choice, so I continued to push downward until my bum was firmly on the seat.

I was surprised by a subtle pat of my hand by Chica who was seated beside me. I don't know if anyone else noticed, and I hope I'm not ratting her out here. It was just the reassurance I needed, like a simple 'good girl'. Slaves take it in the ass, and I now had this huge dildo stretching me open. Another barrier gone. It was getting harder and harder to think of myself as an independent woman with self-dignity.

Like the other girls, I leaned forward and ate my meal, and lapped up the water. After a full day of exercise, it was very fulfilling. Even the cock buried in my ass was no longer painful, but giving me a pleasant ache.

As we were finishing our meal, the head master entered the room. I don't know why, but I was excited to see him. Was it some lingering daddy issues that made me want his approval?

He circled the room, greeting all of us. Perhaps that was his appeal, he actually spoke. I barely noticed the table being cleared.

"Hello Suk Wong," he said as he casually groped her tits. Apparently he had been monitoring us, and he approved of our assigned nicknames. "You took the cock really well today. Good girl."

The Asian girl was positively glowing with the praise she was receiving. I guess I wasn't the only one who craved his approval.

When he came to me, I received my new name, Wonder Cunt. I liked it. I was a super slut. And it felt so nice to be fondled by him which he could tell from my smile.

"You did good for your first day of training Wonder Cunt. You have adapted well to your place as a slave. Any problems?"

That seemed to be an odd question. Did I have a problem with being held captive, naked, and being trained to be a slave? Uh, yeah, I do have a problem with those things. However, I knew he didn't want to hear that. Yet, when I saw Fuck Doll staring at me, I gathered his meaning.

"Uhmm, I did make a mistake," I muttered.

He was listening intently even though I think he knew. It was up to me to ask.

"I resisted being face fucked. I put my hands on Fuck Doll, trying to slow her down."

"Ohh" he feigned shock. "That's not very polite."

"I didn't mean to," I started to defend myself, but immediately stopped. That was not what I was supposed to say. My tone softened. "Please Master, could you punish me, so it will be easier for this cunt to remember her place."

He gently petted my head, and smiled. "Of course sweetie. We are here to help you. Inferior cunts like you are bound to make mistakes because you're not capable of complex thinking. So, we understand that you need guidance and discipline. Instinctively you want it too, don't you?"

The gentle stroking of my hair, the light fondling of my breasts, and his pleasant tone of voice was very soothing. I just wanted to make him happy. "Yes master."

"Of course Wonder Cunt. Stand up."

I slowly stood up, rising off the dildo. I imagine my asshole was now gaping open. He guided me to the end of the table, and directed me to bend over with my legs spread.

He stroked my exposed cunt. "Does this belong to you?"

"No master."

He took his fingers, now coated in my juices, and thrust them into my mouth. I dutifully licked them clean.

"And who does this mouth belong to?"

"You master."

"That's right, me and the other masters. And when we have entrusted her with your training, Fuck Doll has the right to use you as well. So, it is totally inappropriate for you to restrict access to any part of your body." His hand roamed over my body, emphasizing his point. "We own you. And we will use you however we we see fit. You have no say in the matter. You should have known better."

"Yes master. It was a mistake."

"I understand pet, you are very weak minded. I'm going to help you to remember. 25 strokes should be sufficient. You do know how I like you to respond, don't you slut?"

"Yes master," I whimpered.

The first blow of the leather strap quickly followed. I thought I was prepared, but the sting still shocked me.

"1. Thank you master."

As I was bent over the table, I was staring into the eyes of my fellow slaves seated on the bench. They mostly had a dispassionate look, learning to obey and thankful that they weren't the one being punished. It was clear that they had all been whipped at least once, and this was a routine occurrence.

The look on Fuck Doll's face was disconcerting. She was clearly aroused by my whipping. I could even see her shifting in her seat, thrusting down on the dildo in her ass. And the look in her eyes! She was enjoying the crack as the strap hit my backside, and the gasps and moans from me. That bitch was getting off on the suffering of another woman.

In hindsight, what was strange is that her look wasn't one of animosity. She didn't hate me, and wish me to suffer for making her look bad as a trainer, or some other obscure reason. She loved to see a woman being whipped. I even think it would be true if she was the one being whipped. Is this my fate? Will I come to savour the lash of the strap along my bottom?

I endured the 25 strokes, counting out each one, and thanking him for them. I must confess the lesson was fully received. There is no way that I'm going to resist being face fucked again.

I hesitated after my strapping, not knowing if I should stand, return to my seat, or what I should do. I remained bent over, not having received any other instruction. This turned out to be correct.

"OK bitches, it is time for your reward. Stand up, and bend over."

The girls all stood up, somewhat relieved to have the dildo out of their asses. Yet, they also knew what was coming, even if I didn't.

"David, I'll let you try out your new charge. She is nice and tight." The head master spoke from behind me. I was getting a wary sense of what our 'reward' was.

The elder guard, as I had been referring to him, who had awakened me this morning stepped behind me. The head master moved behind Fuck Doll.

As I suspected, the men lowered their zippers and pulled out their cocks. Then, with no particular order or ceremony, they penetrated the bitch in front of him.

I gasped when David's cock slid deep into my cunt. His cock was impressive. And despite myself, I moaned in pleasure. At least I wasn't getting fucked in the ass, although I suppose that is inevitable. For now, it was pure pleasure. After adopting poses to serve an imaginary master, and sucking on an artificial cock, I now had a real man inside of me.

And I hate to admit this here, knowing he will likely read it, but David is rather hot. He's tall, muscular, and has an impressive cock that he knows how to use. He was fucking me slowly, but with powerful thrusts, just how I like it. I could see myself hooking up with him out in the real world. I think I have a 'thing' for older men, even if I had never dated one before.

I wasn't alone in appreciating this 'attention'. The other bitches were also moaning in ecstasy as they were bent over and fucked. Each of us naked and vulnerable, taking a hard cock in our pussies by a man holding us captive. Each of us loving it.

David increased his pace, pushing me over the edge. I climaxed for the 2nd time today. And David wasn't far behind. His body tensed up with his cock deep inside me. He moaned loudly. A guttural, manly moan. He collapsed on top of me, pinning me to the table.

I lay still, catching my breath, and feeling his sperm inside me.

I don't know if this is proper slave protocol, but I tilted my head back and kissed him. He returned the kiss. A deep and passionate kiss. It was an intimate embrace, with his cock still inside me, and his cum filling my hole.

It was not long afterwards that we were allowed to rest. It was still early in the evening, but I don't think I would have had the strength for any more training. We were led back to our rooms. The intimacy we had just experienced was replaced by David silently attaching a leash to my collar, and walking me down the hallway like a pet. Strange as it sounds, it simply felt like a different form of intimacy.

Now that I'm back in my room, writing in my journal, I have been reflecting on the overall process. That is what this is, a well organized process of enslavement. In a way, I'm surprised that they are allowing me to write this journal. Of course they're reading it, but I would think that allowing me to organize my thoughts would be counter to their plans.

I suppose the journal hasn't really had any effect. It occurs to me that I haven't given much thought to how I could escape. In fact what I'm thinking about now is David. Having him inside me, and our kiss. I don't think for a second that I could seduce David, and coax him into helping me escape. I'm thinking of being a good girl so I could earn a 'reward' tomorrow night.

Isn't that ingenious. I know I'm complimenting my captors again. Yet seriously, bending us over and fucking us from behind is the perfect reward. Especially together in the dining room, where we can all see one another, and the ecstasy that us women share in being overpowered and penetrated. It is interesting that the ultimate act of intimacy, the one we crave, is defined by a particular power dynamic. The woman gets fucked.

I could deny the power it held over me, but why? After a day of learning positions that accentuated my servitude and availability. Then sucking on that dildo to stretch my mouth and throat. It was all to be of service to my masters. Even the whipping excited them. My body exists for their pleasure, so why should I be ashamed when they claim it.

Perhaps David would appreciate it if I adopt the Leading position for him to seize my hair or collar when he is guiding me to the showers in the morning?

Sure, I would have called this ridiculous and insulting only days ago. Yet now, it just felt that this was the normal way for bitches to be treated. And yes, I am aware that even I am calling us bitches. Damn sexy bitches! And I'll be damned if I let any of those other bitches outshine me with the masters.

The interesting part is that I know what they are doing. Well, they're trying to break me and make me an obedient slave. The head master said that. What I mean is, I have some understanding of the stages and methodology they were using.

Step 1, create a dependency. I learned that in the cell. My life depends upon them. They could do anything to me, and I couldn't stop them.

Step 2, dehumanizing her, making her feel worthless. This has been a constant theme. From defecating in that awful bucket, to being naked, and not even permitted me to wash myself in the shower. It was hard to see myself as an independent woman with rights when I had no control over the most basic things.

Step 3, gaslighting and manipulation. Demanding that I request a punishment and then thanking them for it. Of course this whole training is a manipulation, but the fact that I have been doing my best to comply, suggests that it is working.

I think I'm now in stage 4, addiction. I am craving their attention. I like it when they fondle me. I want to be fucked again. If I saw an open door, I'd still make a run for it. Yet, even now, I'm touching myself, thinking of what lies ahead.

The next stage is a loss of identity, or a sense of self. I may have responded well to my new name, Wonder Cunt, but I am still Elizabeth Childs, a struggling college student.

And the final stage that I know is coming, unless I can find some way to escape, is resignation and submission.

Interesting. I know precisely what they are doing, and it is still working.

I should get some sleep. I'm still sore from the exercises, and my bum is aching from the strap, but I no doubt have another busy day ahead of me.