The dis Center

Part 1

Chapter One-Introductions

"Your master sent you here, because you were a good slave," Doctor Fulkner said looking up from a medical chart.  After squinting in thought he added, "I'm not sure about rewarding slaves.  You could physiologically damage other subjects with attitude or actions."

"The client paid a premium," said an administration slave to the doctor's left, as the doctor flipped to pages two.

He continued talking mostly to himself, "Her then boyfriend asked her to give up her clit, which WAS the only way she could orgasm as proof of her slavery.  Then proceeded to burn the clitoris off."  I shuddered at the mention of the full word.

He directed my to a gyno exam table, with straps.  "I always strap them down," he interjected as he tighted a leather strap under my C cup breast.  Blinded in bright light, I felt him move the healed scar tissue at the top of my feminine cleft.  "The true Norwegian blonds have pale skin a light pink folds."

Without warning he probed me with two index fingers and proceeded to spread me,  "A lot of damage and to much elasticity for a woman who hasn't given birth."  Turning to the note taking slave he barked, "Large Speculum."

"Get the 3 inch and a flashlight," she said to another slave and continued to write, while he shoved several fingers in my ass and stretched it.  I grunted in shocked pain.

"Silence subject or I'll gag you."  The doctor twisted his fingers,  "She's had limited anal activity,"  roughly jamming his fingers in my poop shoot; I grimaced in pain, "And has a continues to have a pain response."

The doctor was at the side of my head by the time he finished the sentence and shoved the shit smelling fingers in to my mouth.  "No tongue piercing, but bruises in soft upper pallet, indicative of oral activity."  Removing his gloved hands from my mouth he wiped them dry on my light shoulder length hair.

Still at my side he took the speculum and flashlight from the slave a pushed it in to my mouth.  Smiling he said, "I'm guessing both ends take the same size.  Tilt your head back and show me some deep throat skills."

Gaging pain from the plastic device pushing the back of my tongue forward forced a small cough.  "No breath control and some pain, subject must not suck well."  The scribe slave and doctor laughed as he moved the speculum to my fuck tunnel.

Shining the light he resumed, "A lot of scar tissue in here. History indicated use of strapon barbed dilldos by other slaves, resulting in bleeding in both lower orifices."  Leaving the intruder inside he walked to my side.  Painfully twisting the the nipple he looked up in thought.

"Treatment will focus on restoring a vaginal orgasm.  Let say 75% of those exercises and 25% of creating an anal orgasm exercises. "  Now turning to look in to my blue eyes, while hand malling my whole tit he says, "Make sure the subject knows the rules.  Give the subject an extra thousand calorie per day diet, she's too boney for my taste."

"Client requested no permanent changes, so I will schedule a staring session before return delivery," said the nude administrative slave.

"Thousand per day, should be stopped after two weeks if it takes that long." replied the doctor.

I couldn't believe my ears, my master is training me to orgasm again.  I saw the back of the doctor's blue medical coat as he left.  In cute arched letters it read: "F.R.A.C. 'em"  I smiled and the slave yelled "FACE FORWARD SLUT." and she painfully wrenched out the speculum.

Chapter Two - The Rules

Nudity was a right only of staff slaves, was just one of the rules layed out for me with an intense session.

I think it went on for 6 hours, in a small windowless class room.  When I asked to relieve myself I was given a bucket, then slapped across the hands with a metal ruler for not asking about rules of requesting relief.

The subject slave requests relief by moving pussy up and down four times in  a row, rapidly if possible.  From this rule a guessed there are no male subject slaves.

Knowing the drill I inquired of my nude instructor about rules for requesting water.  I was informed that subjects can't request food or water.  The beautiful small chested brunet grinned and replied, "You can only request something be put in your mouth, by doing four come hithers with one's tongue."

I immediately performed the gesture and the gorgeous woman a full foot shorter than me opened the drawer of the wooden teacher's desk an removed a gag.  She said, "Kiss my nipple before I put this in."  Which was at mouth height from my student desk.  I tenderly sucked it, trying to get on her good side.  She then lifted the lid of my student desk and produced a five page test and a number 2 pencil.  I felt 12 again although I had dropped out of my first year of college five years ago.

"You must know ALL the rules.  No grading on a curve your nipples will pay for every wrong answer.  Unfortunately for you we haven't gone over all the rules, so you will be hurting; you will not leave this room or eat until you score 100% on a test. Begin."

She returned to the teachers desk and sat down, and rang a bell on the desk.  She did look beautiful nude, while I was dressed in dirty scrubs and my master's slave collar.  Another slave brought her a lunch tray with several items, but she asked, "Where is my meat?"

"Slave teacher the doctor is experimenting with a new diet to control your PMS."

"Where is my PMS medicine?" ask a women growing increasingly angry.

"Slave teacher the experiment is only diet," clad slave cleared her throat, "I worked in 2 ounces of banana."

"You didn't address me before speaking, I shall ruler those disrespecting tits.  Show them to me."  I snuck a peak her tits were a covered in black and blue bruises and welts and scars.  I buried myself in the test as I here the swing a hit, but the punished slave made no vocalizations.  "I guess they are less sensitive during this healing process.  Give me the palms of your hands."

I heard the strikes and the groans turning to screams, while a turned to page 2.  The first page being True and False, I believe I might have guessed them all.  Now they were multiple choice, and harder.  The first one was how a slave should dispose of her first menstrual blood.  I guessed  c: "eat it" would satisfy this sick center.

I glanced up at the now crying server and the slave teacher, and the instructor caught my eye.  "Well, Miss Looky Lew; you know have only five minute to finish this test, then those boobs are mine."

I returned finished guessing my way through page 2 while I heard her return to the schoolmistress seat and the slave leave and close the door.

"Four minutes," she said through low calorie rice cake.  "Who do I have to fuck around here to get some real food."

Page three was "fill in the blank", my nipple hardened expecting a suffering to come.  First questions was: List the two parts of another subject slave which a subject slave can not touch?  I'm guessing pussy and asshole,  after writing it down I recalled that the server's breast looked untreated even by friends.  My breasts seem tight against my garment as I erased.  These pencil erasers just seem to smear the marks on these tests.  I wrote skin and hair, as the instructor barked "Three minutes."

Moments later with red felt pen in hand, I was called a lucky cunt as she turned to the second page.  Not all of us pretty blue-eyed blonds are as dumb as Paris Hilton.  And I have some more cleavage.

"Eat it?  We don't eat anything the doctor doesn't prescribe around her you stupid slave!  Show me where to torture you."  And I lift my scrub blouse to expose that cleavage.  After screaming from the ruler to my right nipple I told her the correct answer.

Some of the questions took four times to get correct and my nipples have never felt more torment, before we made it to page 3.  Tears flowed down my face and she made me kneel in front of the desk and lift my breast on to the wood surface desk top.

"Everything is wrong on this page.  You get more pain when EVERYTHING is wrong, 25 strikes crushing the utters with the flat side and 25 chopping with the edge." After each strike she pulled on my nipples to make sure I was fully on the desktop, I tried retreating to my sub space, but the pulling on my nipples brought me back.  Those things were on fire, I prayed that one of the chopping stroke would cut my nipples off and stop this misery.

After the first torture session she gave me water from a second glass, I didn't even see the server bring in.

Being a very eager student, I only missed one on the second test.  The Slave Teacher then started teaching me by asking hypothetical questions.  I began to see the most important thing was to report a rule violation within 30 seconds.  And since we are always videotaped, reporting times will be checked.

Handing me the third test, she whispered to me, "when you leave this classroom remember the rules, you will hurt less."  Her first kind act was to gently brush back my hair.  "A good teacher cares about her students,  with the cameras on I'll be beaten if the student and demonstrator don't cry."  She spoke barely above the sound of my labored breathing.

Before I walked out the door she said to remember the the closest rule violation reporting station might be behind me, and that might save me getting it reported in 30 seconds.

End of Part 1

Part 2

Chapter Three-"I'm 1 today"

I miss my bras.  The breast beating yesterday was intense pain; remembered by my tits with every step down the corridor.  I know, since I became a slave; Steven has kept me naked for days at a time, and my babies bounced around without support, but he would generally tit whip me at the end of a long weekend or vacation. And I role play "the girlfriend" in our general lives, so I could go back to supporting these milk puppies while I healed.

I woke myself by just shifting my weight and having the tortured tit pair touch one another.  Being a small C cup; I never wore a bra to bed, but I know every motion tomorrow will add to my loss of firmness in the future.

Slaves are thought of in the short term: droop the boobs, stretch the pussy,  break the strength of the sphincter, what about ten years from now.  Steven can't have a worn out slave.  I recall one ending of "the Story of O" was where "O" asked Sir Steven to let her kill herself. 

This train of thought was broken by a spoken "Get up Slave Subject 9654", by a the teenage slave, which guided me last night.

The teenager or "Slave Subject 9643" led me to this musty prison cell.  Just a bare mattress in the corner and a drain in the middle.  Concrete brick formed three walls and standard prison steel bars inclosed my cell of six cells for temporary slaves.

The teenager was a owned by the Fulkner Research and Application.  "Since I am an experimental slave I have a number not a position, I am hoping of earning a position."  She explained last night.

I got up, causing pain across my chest and looked to my younger attendant.

"Follow me for your breakfast," as another pare of slaves walked passed the bars.

I joked, "I hope they don't get the last of it."

Teenager swiveled her head,  "Shhhh, you almost violated the rule about talking about your food or drug prescription."  Then speaking to the ceiling, "We know there are camera's everywhere."  Although less pitch back than last night, blackness still hid what was up there.

There were certainly cameras in the dining area, easily housing 2 dozen slaves with metal benches and tables to spare.  One side of this institutional green painted concrete enclosure was the buffet line.  This buffet contained: chilled fruit and juices over ice water, through scrambled eggs and meats over steaming water, to donuts and pastries.

Following the teenager example we walked toward the buffet line and large screens showed our numbers followed by food prescriptions.  I guess some camera facially recognized us.  So I got my 4.5 oz eggs including small plastic plate, my 3.5 oz mellon mix including small plate, and my 8.2 oz skim milk including glass, and my 4.2 oz OJ including glass.  Small scales above a sneeze shield turned the text row on the big screens from yellow to green when we were good to go.  I assume they turn red if we would dare over fill a container, but that is against the rules.

Tottering with one hot plate and two ice cold items I kind of juggled to an empty table with the young girl.  The youngster lifted the small plastic egg plate to her mouth and while bending it like a taco shell she slurped some egg out one side.  Slaves here don't get silverware or napkins, and judging by the other tables no donuts and pastries either.

Another teenager approached our table, "9643, happy slaveday."

"Back at you girl." my teenage replied.

From the other table older slave, "Someone's getting chummy with the S-O-M."

"Hey, we went to High School together!,"  this standing slave turned back to my guide, "I hope the best for you today!" and then returns too her shouting friend's table.

I stated, "Almost a question from that other women, I was getting ready to report a rules violation."

"I'm the only S-O-M here, if you want to move to their table feel free."

"I am the first slave of a new Master, so stuff like S.O.M. wasn't taught to me; or how someone so young can give her life to a Master," said I.

"S.O.M. stands for son, no I mean, sibling of Masterless slave.  So my grandmother was a slave, and she had a daughter.  That daughter was born in to slavery lifestyle, but was raised in a Master's sponsored group home.  At fifteen my mother, like me, was set out in to the free world for one year to sample that lifestyle.  My mother, like me, choose to give our lives to slavery.  But my mother wasn't pretty or sexy enough to get a Master to buy her for profit over cost of childhood care.  She's now slaving in another center to repay Masters who sponsored her.  I probably made that center a $10,000 breeding fee, and possibly more if my mother earned money as a pregnant prostitute.", ashamed to look at me.  She titled her head done almost in prayer, "I suck; I'm birthed from an unsexy slave. I'm a fucking S-O-M."

"High School at 15, I assume she was sampling freedom with you."

"9642, yes"

"Calling us by numbers is hard for me to grasp."

"We are slaves, four digit numbers are the rules here, where do or don't..", She slowed down to not make a question " slaves have numbers must be a fictional storybook."

"Watch those questions, 9643," I warned.

"I don't talk often.  They are motioning you over."  Sure enough the yeller was standing up and gesturing to an open seat, I gestured OK and pointed at my current seat.

"Please go, you'll want to be popular."

"Can't; my Master ordered me not to be an asshole to other slaves here."

"Starting out to be my best slaveday ever, by the way I'm 1 today."  I heard that slaves drop their birthdays and only celebrate their years in slavery, but never expected an innocent teenager to be happy to start over at 16 or 17.

Chapter Four- Girlfriend? Please!

Fully exposed with ankles tied wide, I am sex slave.  Blood rushing to my head below my bruised tits on a slight inclined ramp of metal, I show: I am sex slave.

A sex slave has different embodiment, I most value the contact points of my master's pleasure, his not mine; the three orifices.  Even as a young woman, I knew a master was out in the world how owned them.  I must openly exhibit his sex parts for mans and master's please.

Doctor Fulkner approached, "We must be able to judge success.  Did your master require you to ask permission to cum?"

"No"

The Doctor looked pissed, like when he learned my master was rewarding this slave, "Did you hold off cumming to please your master?"

"Yes," I said enthusiastically, trying to appease him.

"How many orgasms did have by self stimulation as young woman, before meeting your master?"

"None"

"It is not uncommon for slave not to have cum before slavery.  What are the most climaxes you have had in one 24 hour period?"

"I lost count at a over two dozen, in a session before my clit was removed," I added the two dozen part to give the Doctor a frame work.

"Today you'll have a monitor inserted, by putting a balloon like device in your uterus; letting that slightly deflate and adding the smooth monitor, more deflation, attaching leads to your G spot area and we're done."  Doctor now patting my head, "You might regret being female today.  Your master said he wanted you trained quickly..."  he gave another pat,  "even when this causes pain.  So you can start training tomorrow no nerve block to the cervix or vaginal area,  and I need you awake for the lead attachments."

My heart jumped at the mention of my master's wishes.

The doctor gestured for a naked nurse slave to bring a nasty looking tray of instruments forward.  "You smiled at the mention of pain do you like pain?"

"No, I prove my love for my master by taking some pain."

"Some Pain!  Forced cervical extension can be the worst pain of your life, I would not let my slaves go through it, I am not that cruel.  Get her master on the phone, I want informed consent."

"This slave humbly begs for her master not to disturbed, about this slaves comfort."  The naked administration slave fumbled with a cell phone, unsure as to if to dial.

"I'm waiting", she eye met mine as she paused, "Dial, I'm not deaf, but the stupid cunt doesn't know shit."

After getting my master at work, the Doctor explained about then extremely high level of pain; and since he was a new master might not be aware.  Although straining to hear I couldn't hear my master's voice, but could see a shocked expression on the doctor's face, and he gave the phone to the administrative slave, "the client wants to talk to the subject."

She bobbled the phone and a tablet PC, "What are your orders, master?"

"You stupid slave, I shall punish you for asking a question, remembering you got this center in to this mess.  A client rewarding a slave." 

A combination of shame and fear was expressed on her face, she looked at the cell phone; and the doctor continued sarcastically, "Well the premium paying client is waiting."

I was elated to talk with my master, as she bent down holding the phone to my ear.  "Yes Master."

"Do you understand and want NO pain relief?"

"This slave want to rejoin her master as soon as possible. Pain be damned."

He asked for the doctor and I informed the administration slave, who passed the phone back to an angry doctor.

I made out the doctor talking about a loose pussy and altering the no enduring clause of the contract.   Something about vaginal tightening before my return.  "Vaginal rejuvenation" I heard him say was the free world term.  He talked for about ten minutes.

Only once before had I been fisted by a man, the doctor was pounding my cervix seconds after hanging up.  "Scream.  Is that what you WANT?"  He jerked is arm out and moved to lean over my face.

"This repugnancy is caused by YOU not being a slave," the Doctor dripped blood from one hand.  Hey, no foreplay and bone dry, your pussy would bleed too.  "YOU said 'I prove my love for my master with my pain'."

"You're a lover wasting this SLAVE center's time, and I will now prove it."

 

He move to stand in front of my gaping cunt, and dropped his pants.  He asked, "Do you like cheating on him?" as thrust in, causing me to shriek in  pain again.

"Answer wrong, and this girlfriend is going home."

My mind was racing, I almost blubbered out "No",  but I can still think in minor pain.  "This slave likes pleasing her doctor."

He stopped mid thrust, "why did you hesitate?"

"This slave was deciding what her master wanted her to say."

He crawled on top of me while fucking, and whispered, "He is doing another slave tonight."  His stare pierced me, searching for weakness.  I tightened my pussy in reply; I am a slave.

Tit sweat worked itself from under my breast, down the slight head-down incline of my cleavage, up my neck and over my chin in the torturous hour the doctor cruelly proceeded.  Funny what you notice in "Sub Space".

The worst pain in my life, please; my master let another slave fuck both my holes with a barbed strap-on.  Suffering and wishing I wasn't female, please; I AM A SLAVE.

End of Part 2