Jade Ch. 02: Erasure

This is the second part of "Jade", I advise you to read the first part "Chapter 1 : A Jump into the Abyss" before reading this chapter.

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Jade woke slowly, her thoughts murky, her body heavy. She had no idea what time it was -- there was no clock, no sound, no hint of movement outside. But in truth, it was around 4 a. m. She had been unconscious for seven full hours.

Her eyes opened to absolute darkness. Not just the absence of light -- this was something deeper. A suffocating blackness, like being buried underground or lost in a cave. No outlines. No shadows. Just void.

She tried to move.

Nothing.

Her body was upright, her knees bent tightly to her chest, arms folded and bound at her sides. The box was barely large enough to hold her. She couldn't even shift a few centimeters. She tried to test the boundaries with her feet, but there was no room to stretch. Her hands were locked in place -- no chance to explore, to push, to find an edge.

She was helpless.

Time passed. She had no way to measure it. It felt endless.

Her body ached from the position, but she could breathe. The air was stale but steady. She wasn't in danger -- not yet. But she was powerless. Sealed. Stored. An object in a box.

That thought -- cold and cruel -- thrilled her.

She imagined herself as a packaged toy, waiting to be unwrapped and used. The idea sent heat pulsing between her legs, sharp and electric. She tried to move her hips, to grind against anything -- but there was nothing to press into, no way to touch herself. Her hands were pinned. Her body was locked in place.

At some point -- she didn't know when -- she became aware of the pressure at her neck. A thick band, snug against her throat. A collar. She tilted her head slightly, feeling its weight. She tried to reach it with her hands, instinctively -- but of course, she couldn't. Her arms were bound too tightly.

So she was there. Blocked. Stored. Waiting. And she waited for what felt like an eternity.

Her limbs cramped. Her mind drifted in and out of lucidity. She lost track of time, of thoughts, of everything but the sensation of her own breath and the pressure of the box around her.

Then -- suddenly -- a noise.

A door opening. Hinge and echo.

And light.

Blinding at first, flooding the darkness, it poured into the box in narrow streams. That's when she realized: the box had holes -- maybe ten of them, round, each the size of a few fingers -- just enough to let in thin beams of light. They hadn't mattered in the dark. But now, those holes lit up around her like stars piercing the black sky.

A calm voice spoke through the silence.

"Hi Jade. I'm Fred -- but for you, I am Master. I hope you slept well. You must feel a bit uncomfortable in that box, but don't worry... you'll get used to it."

She opened her mouth to speak -- confusion and instinct rising in her throat -- but the voice cut her off immediately.

"You speak only when a direct question is asked. Otherwise, you stay quiet. Understood?"

She hesitated, then whispered, "Yes..."

A pause.

Fred's voice corrected her, calm but firm: "The correct answer is: Yes, Master."

Flushed, throat tight, she repeated quietly, "Yes, Master."

Fred continued, his voice still calm, almost instructional.

"You must feel the collar on your neck. This is a shock collar. It will be used to correct your behavior. If you do not comply with an order or behave badly, you will be shocked. It has different levels -- one to ten. At ten, it will likely knock you out, just like a taser."

A pause.

"For you to understand, here is what level one feels like."

A sharp jolt hit her neck. Not truly painful, but sudden, stinging -- enough to make her flinch and emit a small gasp.

There was barely time for her to recover before Fred spoke again.

"And here is what level five feels like."

The shock came without warning. This time it was nothing like the first.

It hit her like a wave of electricity -- sudden, full-body, vicious. Her muscles seized violently, her back arching despite the cramped box, a strangled cry catching in her throat as her breath was torn away. Pain radiated from her neck outward, clamping around her ribs and chest. Her vision swam even in the dark. Her limbs, though pinned, twitched against their restraints. It only lasted a few seconds. But it left her panting, shaking, her skin clammy with sweat.

She needed almost a full minute before her breathing returned to something close to normal. Her body throbbed. Her mind reeled.

That was level five.

Fred's voice returned, still composed, still merciless.

"Do you need to try level eight?"

Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper, nearly crying, "No... please... no."

A beat of silence.

"A slave does not say no," Fred replied. "The correct answer is always: 'Yes, Master.'"

Before she could correct herself, the collar activated.

Level eight.

It was like being struck by lightning in the dark. A brutal charge tore through her, more than just pain -- a full-body takeover. Her lungs locked. Her thoughts blinked out. Muscles convulsed in sharp, chaotic jolts that pressed her against the sides of the box. Her breath vanished. She couldn't scream, couldn't move, couldn't think. She hit her head on the back of the box, hard, and her vision pulsed with a flash of lightless white.

Even after the current stopped, the aftermath remained -- a frozen second where she wasn't sure if she was alive. Then air came back in ragged, shallow bursts. She trembled uncontrollably. The pain faded slowly, but the fear did not.

Two minutes passed -- maybe three -- before she stopped shaking.

Fred's voice returned, calm and steady as ever.

"I'm sure you don't need to try level ten to understand what that could be like."

There was a pause, then his voice continued.

"Now. I have a few things to explain to you, but first -- we need to go over some documents. You'll need to sign them."

She didn't want to agree. Every nerve in her body told her to protest, to scream. But fear pinned her in place. The memory of the last shock was still fresh in her muscles, in her breath.

And deep down, she knew: this was what she had asked for. The ad. The message. The keys. The pills.

And now, reality -- unvarnished and brutal -- bit hard. Not fantasy, not the script she wrote in her mind. This was no longer about control through ritual or arousal laced with mystery. This was pure submission, and she was trapped in it. It was real, and it was merciless. A small part of her -- the part that used to be sure -- began to wonder if she'd made a mistake.

Still trembling, her voice thin and barely controlled, tears streaking her cheeks, Jade replied through a quiet sob, "Yes, Master."

She heard a mechanical click -- the sound of something unlocking. Then another. A series of dull metallic pops echoed around her from inside the box. The lid creaked.

Light spilled in as it slowly opened.

Fred leaned over the edge of the box, his face shadowed by the glare above. Without a word, he reached in and carefully unbound her right hand. Then he placed a pen into her palm.

One by one, he handed her several sheets of paper. She couldn't focus on the words. Her vision was blurry from crying.

She didn't count the pages. Didn't read the text. She just signed -- again and again -- blindly, mindlessly, automatically.

When she scrawled her name on the final page, Fred took the pen from her hand, set the papers aside, and gently but firmly reattached her wrist to the restraint. Then, without a word, he closed the lid over her once more.

Thin light still streamed through the holes in the box, just enough to outline the curve of her knees, the faint rise and fall of her breath. From beyond the wooden walls, Fred's voice returned -- measured and quiet, but no less sharp.

"Would you like to know what you just signed?"

The question hit harder than she expected. A chill threaded through her chest. She was deeply scared -- terrified, in truth -- of what those documents might have contained. Her mind swirled with possibilities: contracts, waivers, transfers, things she'd agreed to without looking, without knowing.

Her throat was tight, her limbs still trembling. But the last jolt had burned obedience into her. She answered as she'd been taught.

"Yes, Master."

Fred didn't pause.

"It's very simple... did you really think you would only be here for a weekend? Of course not."

His voice was patient, almost amused.

"Those documents were necessary. They're the first steps to erasing your past life."

He let that hang for a second.

"The first one was a contract to sell the full contents of your flat -- and your car. The buyer will collect everything next week."

"Then there were the documents needed to cancel your rental agreement, resign from your internet, phone, and other service contracts, and cancel all your credit cards."

"There's also a declaration to the Swiss authorities, informing them you're going abroad for two years -- so you won't be taxed during that period. Since you're officially leaving the country, they don't need a forwarding address."

"All perfectly legal. All perfectly designed."

"On paper, you're just another young woman who decided to travel the world for a few years."

"In reality... you've disappeared."

When she heard this, something deep inside her recoiled. Her body tensed, her breath caught in her throat. No. No, she didn't want this. Not all of it. Not her entire life erased, just a weekend.

Her heart raced, panic swelling. She opened her mouth, desperate to protest. "But--" she began, voice shaking.

The collar answered first. A sharp jolt cut through her words. Her body stiffened, a gasp catching hard in her chest.

Fred's voice followed without delay.

"You speak only to answer questions, understood?" he said coldly.

There was a pause.

"I ask you a question: do you understand?"

Still shaking, she managed a small, broken response. "Yes, Master."

Fred's voice was sharp. "What have you understood?"

Her voice cracked as she answered: "I should speak only to answer direct questions, Master."

Fred was silent for a moment, then said evenly, "Good. Now I'll leave you to think about your new condition. I'll return this evening to explain how your training will continue."

She heard his footsteps moving away, slow and deliberate.

Then the sound of a door opening... and closing. Silence returned -- heavy and absolute. The light filtering through the holes vanished as the door closed, plunging the box into pitch black once more.

Jade was alone, locked back inside the box, in a silence so complete it felt like the world had ended outside. She didn't know what to do. There was no escape. No way back.

This was what she had asked for -- but only for a weekend. Not this. Not her whole life unraveling like paper soaked in water. She was scared. Truly frightened. Not by Fred, not even by the box -- but by herself. By what her own hunger had driven her to do. It was too late to undo any of it. She had signed. She had consented. She had given away her address, her keys, and her life. There were no escapes.

Hours passed, or maybe it was only one. It felt like a month. The darkness distorted everything. Her body was sore, every joint burning from the folded position the box forced her into. Her legs tingled, her back ached, and yet she remained silent -- because there was nothing else to do. Just endure. Just wait.

After a long moment, something strange stirred inside her.

She kept replaying Fred's words -- her life erased, her flat emptied, her name vanishing from paper and record. The more she thought about it, the more a part of her rebelled. She didn't want to disappear. She didn't want this to be permanent. She had only wanted to escape for a weekend, not forever.

But beneath the fear, something else stirred -- quiet, deeper.

The longer she sat in the dark, the more she realized: she wasn't panicking because she had lost her life. She was panicking because she hadn't expected how much of her wanted this.

The idea of returning -- to her lectures, her sterile apartment, her well-meaning but shallow friends -- now felt distant. Flat. Meaningless. That world had always felt like an act. This box, brutal and absolute, felt more real than anything she'd known. It scared her -- the truth of that. And she was starting to understand that maybe she hadn't made a mistake at all.

All those thoughts spun endlessly in her head when suddenly -- again -- the door.

A creak. Then a click. Light returned in a rush.

It streamed back through the tiny holes of the box, stabbing into the darkness. After so long in pitch black, it burned her eyes. She flinched instinctively, squinting, breath held.

Fred's voice came again, cutting through the silence.

"Are you starting to get used to your box?"

The answer inside her was clear: not at all. Every muscle ached. Her limbs throbbed. Her mind screamed to be let out. But she answered quietly, voice barely above a whisper,

"Yes, Master."

Fred replied, low and satisfied. "Good girl."

He paused for a moment, letting the silence stretch.

Then he spoke again, voice casual but pointed. "You must be thirsty. You haven't had anything to drink in hours."

And yes -- she was. Now that he mentioned it, her throat felt dry, her lips slightly cracked.

She heard the box lid creak as it opened. Fred leaned over and looked down at her. "How do your hands feel?" She blinked at the sudden increase of light, then answered truthfully, "They feel a bit numb, but it's supportable, Master."

Fred gave a single nod. Then, slowly and deliberately, he reached down and untied both her hands. The restraints slipped away, the pressure releasing with a dull throb. He removed the bracers, setting them aside.

"This will give you a bit of freedom to move"

And just like that, he closed the lid again.

Moments later, through one of the larger holes, she saw a bottle being passed inside -- the curved silhouette unmistakable.

Fred's voice followed, firm but composed. "Take the bottle, drink all of it, and return it to me. Be quick. Don't make your Master wait."

She obeyed without hesitation, fumbling slightly to grasp it. Even with her hands free, the cramped space made it difficult to lift and tilt the bottle properly. She shifted as best she could, careful not to spill, her movements clumsy but urgent. The water was cold and sharp against her dry throat. She drank greedily. Then, as instructed, she slid the empty bottle back through the hole.

Fred's voice returned, calm and clear.

"So, for the coming days, you will have two simple tasks. Here's the first one."

Suddenly, a sharp green light illuminated the inside of the box, flooding it in an unnatural glow.

"When you see this green light," Fred said, "you will say: 'I am an object made to be used.'"

The green vanished, and a moment later, a cold blue light replaced it.

"And when the blue light appears, you will say: 'Thank you, Master, for helping me to become a good slave.'"

His tone was even, almost instructional.

"You will have five seconds to say the correct phrase after each light appears. If you speak too late or say the wrong thing, the collar will be activated."

A pause.

"The shocks will start at level three. Each mistake will raise the collar one level, up to level six. You must go thirty minutes without error for the punishment level to decrease by one."

A silence followed, deliberate and heavy.

"Do you understand?"

She replied quickly, quietly, "Yes, Master."

Fred continued immediately, testing her memory.

"So... green light. What do you say?"

She answered without hesitation, "I am an object made to be used."

"And for the blue one?"

She swallowed, then repeated carefully, "Thank you, Master, for helping me to become a good slave."

"Good girl," Fred said smoothly. "Now, the second task is simpler."

"You'll hear three beeps. After that, a phrase will be spoken. You will have also five seconds to repeat it exactly."

His voice darkened slightly.

"And once again -- if you make a mistake, the collar will be correct it."

He let the threat hang for a moment.

"Do you understand the second task?"

"Yes, Master," she said. "After the three beeps I have to repeat the phrase."

"Good girl," Fred replied. "So be attentive and concentrate. We don't want to fry your brain with shocks too often."

Fred paused, then spoke again, calm but commanding.

"Repeat once more the phrase for the green light."

Without hesitation, she replied, "I am an object made to be used."

"And for the blue light?"

"Thank you, Master, for helping me to become a good slave."

"Good girl," he said, with a smooth voice.

Then he stepped away. She heard the familiar sound of his footsteps fading into the distance. A door opened... and closed. The room fell silent. The light vanished. And once again, Jade was alone in the dark. But this time, the dark didn't last long. Maybe ten seconds passed -- no more -- before a sudden burst of cold blue light flashed through the holes of the box.

Without hesitation, she responded, "Thank you, Master, for helping me to become a good slave."

Another ten seconds. Then green.

"I am an object made to be used."

Ten seconds later, another green.

"I am an object made to be used."

The rhythm began. Every ten to twenty seconds, one of the lights blinked on -- sometimes blue, sometimes green. The timing varied just enough to keep her alert, tense, never able to drift. The box became a training chamber. The rhythm of obedience. A place where silence wasn't rest -- it was preparation for the next command.

After perhaps ten minutes of this rhythm, she heard three quick beeps.

Then a voice spoke, clear and slow:

"I exist to serve my Master's will."

She repeated the phrase exactly, her voice slightly hoarse, but steady.

The beeps returned in cycles -- every five to ten minutes -- each followed by a different sentence:

"Obedience is freedom."

"I don't think, I obey"

"I am nothing, just a object"

"I exist to please my Master."

Each phrase etched deeper into her awareness. The repetition wasn't just training -- it was reshaping. Slowly. Quietly. Thoroughly.

And through it all, she remained focused, her voice steady each time. Not that she didn't want to be shocked but more that she wanted to be a good slave. Sometimes, instead of a mantra, the voice delivered rules -- the list she would be expected to follow as a slave.

"Rule number 1: All requests from Master are to be treated as commands. Commands are executed without delay."

"Rule number 2: I am allowed to speak only to answer direct questions or when permission to speak has been explicitly given. I may ask for permission to speak once per day."

"Rule number 3: I am not allowed to orgasm without explicit permission. I am not allowed to ask for it."

"Rule number 4: My ass and mouth exist for pleasure, my pussy for torture"

"Rule number 5: If I break any rule, I will be punished."

The repetition continued. Mantras. Rules. Lights. Beeps. Her world shrank to that endless cycle.

The first two hours passed without incident. Jade stayed focused, alert, obedient. She was determined to succeed -- to please, to perform.

But then exhaustion crept in. Her body was cramped and aching. Her mind was dulling, slow to catch the lights. Her concentration began to slip. She missed a cue. The collar punished her instantly.

The shock snapped her back into focus, but it also shook her -- inside and out. A reminder: no mistakes.

Yet more followed. Even though the tasks were simple -- repeating phrases, reacting to colors and sounds -- they became harder the longer they dragged on. She could no longer think of anything else. No past. No future. Just lights, words, and pain.

Her thoughts blurred into fragments of commands and rules. Her voice was hoarse, her hands trembling. Each error pushed the collar one level higher. Before long, she was at level six. Harsh. Jarring. Almost unbearable.

Each shock was followed by three minutes of silence. Time for her to recover. But it wasn't enough.

She was doing her best. She wanted to be good. But no mistake for thirty minutes? Impossible. And so she stayed at level six -- suspended in that fragile space between obedience and collapse. It was harder than anything she had imagined.

And it continued. And continued. The lights blinked. The beeps returned. The voice delivered its phrases like clockwork. Six hours. No pause. No mercy.

She floated somewhere between exhaustion and automation -- too tired to think, too afraid to slip. Her body trembled, drenched in sweat. Her mouth was dry again. Her thoughts had dissolved into the box.

Then -- suddenly -- it all stopped.

No light. No sound.

And then, the door.

A crack. A shaft of light. Footsteps.

Fred was back.

He crouched beside the box, pushed a bottle of water through the hole, and said simply, "Drink it all." She obeyed immediately. The water was warm, but it felt like relief. She drank greedily, then returned the bottle.

Fred's voice returned.

"So. Harder than you thought, isn't it?"

Jade took a breath, her voice shaking with fatigue. "Yes, Master. It is a very hard training... but I'm doing my best."

Fred gave a small, satisfied exhale.

"Don't worry. You'll get moments of rest. From now on, the game will run for five hours, followed by twenty minutes of rest. After each rest, your punishment level will reset to its lowest."

She stayed silent, but he continued.

"And I saw how much you struggled with level six. So I've decided to set the minimum at level one, and the maximum at level four."

Weirdly, without thinking, she answered automatically:

"Thank you, Master, for helping me to become a good slave."

Fred chuckled once, low.

"You're welcome."

Then he turned and walked away.

The light vanished again.

And for the first time in hours -- no commands, no shocks, no lights. Just silence. Those twenty minutes of rest felt like paradise. But paradise was short. Brutally short. Barely had her breath steadied before the lights blinked back on. The beeps resumed. The voice returned.

And the cycle began again.

This time, the shocks were lighter -- yes -- but everything else felt heavier. Her body groaned from stiffness, her mind sluggish with exhaustion.

Worse, a growing discomfort gnawed at her lower belly. She needed to pee. Desperately.

The training continued.

Mantra. Beep. Light. Rule. Repeat.

She clenched her muscles, trying to hold it. Every light became torture, every delay an agony. Then came a shock. Her body convulsed -- and that was it. Her control broke. The heat and shame spread through her as she realized she had wet herself inside the box. The smell. The dampness. The humiliation. But there was no stopping. No acknowledgment. Her training continued as if nothing had happened.

By the time the next break came, Jade was broken. Her voice was nearly gone. Her limbs ached. Her mind floated.

But this time -- no Fred. No water. Just silence. A mere twenty minutes of stillness. And then it all began again.

The following break, Fred returned. Without a word, he passed her a bottle of water and, to her surprise, two small bananas through the hole. Her fingers fumbled to peel them in the dark, but she ate both quickly and drained the water. The food gave her the briefest spark of energy.

After this too short break, it resumed. And it continued -- hour after hour, break after break -- until time lost meaning.

Each cycle chipped away at her awareness. At every break, Jade collapsed in place, sometimes falling instantly asleep. The brief silence no longer restored her -- it merely paused the spiral.

She no longer woke to beeps or lights. Only the sharp jolt of the collar pulled her back into obedience. Each time, a fresh wave of pain would remind her where she was -- and what she was becoming.

She was no longer Jade.

She was barely conscious. A husk of effort. An automate. The lights came on. The voice spoke. She repeated. Over and over. Again and again. The rules, the mantras -- they weren't just phrases anymore. They had become her. There was no space left for thought. Only repetition.

Two full days passed.

Then, during a rare break -- when the box was silent, the lights off, and her breathing ragged -- Fred's voice broke the stillness.

"So. The weekend is over. You have a choice. You can decide to stay here... forever. Or you can go back to your life."

His words pierced the fog in her mind.

"I give you three hours to decide. But if you choose to return to your old life, there will be no way back here. No second chance. Do you understand?"

Her lips parted, dry and cracked. Her voice was barely more than a breath.

"Yes, Master."

Fred left the room, and for the first time since this began, she was truly alone with her choice. Three hours. Time to decide. But Jade's body was beyond thought -- she was too exhausted to hold a single coherent idea. Her limbs slumped. Her breath slowed. And almost instantly, she fell asleep.

She didn't hear him return.

She didn't hear the steps, the soft click of the door, the light or his voice.

Only the shock brought her back -- level seven.

Her body convulsed violently, the pain waking her faster than any sound ever could. Her eyes flew open. Her throat caught a breath that felt like fire.

Fred waited as she gasped and trembled in the dark.

"Now. Tell me what do you think? Time to return to your life... or to continue your training to become a slave?"

She didn't even pause. The words leapt from her lips before thought could intervene.

"I don't think, I obey."

Fred's voice, low and pleased, answered: "Good girl. But what do you want?"

And then -- silence.

He gave her space and in it, her thoughts began to spiral again. She tried to remember who she was. The lectures. The friends. The flat. But they felt thin now. Distant. Like echoes from someone else's dream.

What felt real was this box. This voice. This training. Her body ached. Her throat burned. Her mind was hollowed out. But in her gut -- in the place below the noise -- she knew.

I want to stay.

I want to serve.

I want to obey.

I want to be his slave.

But something inside her shifted further -- clearer, sharper than ever. The idea of "just a weekend" had always been a fantasy, a safe boundary. Something temporary. A contained fire where she could play without getting burned. She thought she'd return to her studies, her apartment, her ordinary life.

But now, after three days sealed in darkness, spoken to only by commands, jolted back into obedience again and again... she realized that it wasn't fear holding her here.

It was truth.

What terrified her most wasn't staying -- it was how deeply she wanted to stay. She didn't want a door left open. She didn't want a way back.

This -- this brutal clarity, this stripping away of everything -- was what she had always searched for. Not a game. Not a fantasy. But surrender. Real, irreversible surrender. A no-return trip into darkness. Or, to her -- into something far brighter. Into ecstasy.

So yes. She would stay.

She took a breath -- shaky but full -- summoned the last of her strength, and spoke:

"Master... the only thing I want is to be yours. I want you to turn me into your slave. I want to stay. I want you to erase my past life."

There was a pause.

Then Fred's voice, calm and firm:

"This is a great answer. And I accept to take you as my slave -- with pleasure."

He didn't leave right away. He remained nearby, silent. Present. Letting the moment stretch between them. Minutes passed. And then, in a soft, uncertain voice, Jade broke the quiet:

"Master... may I have permission to speak?"

"Yes. You have permission."

She took a breath.

"I am infinitely grateful to have finally met you, Master. And I am infinitely grateful that you agree to take me as your slave. I will do my best to serve you as well as I can. I trust you to train my mind and body to the highest standards. Thank you, Master.."

Fred's voice was soft but certain.

"You will, for sure, become a great slave. I am sure of it."

He paused.

"Now get some rest. I'm giving you eight hours of sleep. Training resumes tomorrow morning -- four and a half hours of training, thirty-minute breaks, four times a day. That will leave you with four and a half hours of sleep per cycle."

Then, calm, controlled, resolute.

"Enjoy the first night of your new life."