Chapter 1

Abigail was eighteen, blonde haired, blue eyed and very pretty. She was popular with women and pursued by men. When she had finished her A levels she went with a group of girlfriends inter-railing around Europe before going to Art school. She hoped her results were good enough but her favourite teacher John Dickenson had left the year before. She had quite liked him although he was rather old. She remembered when she had tried to flirt with him. He had smiled and patted her bum. When she thought about it she realised she could have got him into trouble but she had rather enjoyed it. He was much nicer than some of the dirty old men and equally dirty old women that had taught her. Some had stripped her naked with their eyes since she was twelve. Perhaps she would look Mr Dickenson up.

For now school was out and life was fun. Clubbing and drinking and occasional fucking. She didn’t particularly enjoy screwing and had rarely had an orgasm but was sure there was something there. The sweaty short fumblings she had experienced so far must, she thought, get better. She knew from masturbation what was possible. Sometimes she wondered if it was her. Her mother had told her sex was unpleasant and Abigail wondered if she was right. But mummy had been a man hater ever since the divorce some five years before. Daddy had been denied access rights and Abigail had not seen him since. Had mummy’s admonitions made her frigid? Did she intimidate her partners? But these worries were transient and soon forgotten in the pleasures of the Aegean. Swimming, sunbathing and then, one glorious evening making love on the beach. Hans was the best yet she mused as she drifted exhausted into sleep.

Her slumbers were filled with troubled dreams and half heard noises. Slowly she awoke. She went to turn towards Hans and; what was it? She couldn’t. She panicked and opened her eyes. Nothing. It was blacker than the deep of the night. And there was no sound of the sea. She moved her arm. Nothing. She lay still feeling her restraints. Her wrists were fixed by the side of her head but perhaps a foot on either side. She went to raise her head and felt the restraining collar. She could feel the air on her naked thighs and then the metal bands around her ankles. She was firmly fixed unable to more than flex her muscles against her restraints. Blind and deaf she lay scared. She was, she realised, in the ideal position to be raped. Terrified she ran her tongue over her parched lips and moaned.

Then she screamed. A hand had brushed against her thigh. “Who are you. What do you want?” she moaned” Silence was the answer. “Please” she whimpered. “What do you want with me. I haven’t any money.” A hand stroked her thigh down the inside getting perilously close to her cunt and then played with a breast, gently twisting and pulling at her nipple. “Please” she moaned. “Please don’t.” It stopped. “Thank you” she whispered. “Thank you.” Her relief was short-lived. The hand was on her thigh again. Insistently, slowly a finger traced a line to the very edge of her labia. “Please” she sobbed “please” Then a finger ran along the slit. Back and forth it rocked. “Please. Please” she whimpered like a whipped puppy. She was terrified, she knew her body was responding. She hated it, but the erotic finger gently stimulating her aroused her. She could feel she was becoming moist and, Oh No, she was opening to that finger. It slid without resistance into her. A shock went through her body as it touched her clit. She tensed her body and realised in despair she had thrust her hips up. The finger was deep into her. She pulled back but the finger followed. “Please don’t” she begged as another joined it. They squeezed that most sensitive spot. Then slowly oh so slowly she could not help responding. Her hips were beyond her conscious control as they ground against the fingers. She pushed towards them, all the while begging for it to stop. But she wondered whether her body or her mind was right. She could feel the heat rising. She knew she was about to explode, to melt. Her nipples were painful her tummy on fire and then without warning the fingers were gone. She sighed in relief and disappointment. And then a thrill caused her to strain up. A tongue was on her clit. She could feel unshaven cheeks rasping against the sensitive skin at the top of her thighs. He was sucking her swollen bursting clit between his lips, the tip of his tongue gently flicking against it. She felt his teeth, nipping gently. And then, in despair, she had the best orgasm of her short life.

An eternity later exhausted and satiated she lay still smelling the scent of her arousal. She was horrified and deeply ashamed. Her body had been played like a musical instrument. His tongue the bow across her clit shaped violin. She remembered with warmth the wracking passion that had destroyed an intelligent modern woman and made her a writhing moaning animal. Whoever he was he had used her just as he wanted and she had hated it. She had loved it. Confused and frightened she lay pinned and splayed worrying what was to happen to her.

She drifted in and out of shallow sleeps, each awakening a reminder of her shame and her pleasure. Then there were hands at her groin again. Were they the same. To her horror she knew she would never know. There could be hundreds of men watching her. Watching her writhe in ecstasy. Watching her beg in shame. Watching her tight sharp nipples and her heaving breasts. Seeing her raise her hips to those hateful exciting fingers. What was happening. She could feel something but what was it. Then she felt something cold and hard. What were they doing to her. She moved her hips and felt something gritty beneath them. Then she felt something warm brushing her groin. It was gentle and soothing and rather pleasant. And then there was a scraping. With a scream she understood. She was being shaved. She begged; she promised, she threatened, but the razor continued its work. She felt it sliding across her mons, across the junction between her stomach and her thighs and then between her labia and her anus. Fingers ran over her. She could feel how smooth she was. Then, could it be true, she was licked. All of her private parts felt the sliding tongue. The razor returned and then the tongue. Eventually it appeared he was done. But was it a he she wondered. The cheeks had been smooth.

The bands holding her ankles were moving. She could do nothing as they were brought up and back so her thighs, splayed wide were pressing against her nipples. Her hard nipples she realised. Then something was clipped to her labia. They pressed insistently on either side. Not painful but causing her to feel the blood coursing through her body. She felt them being pulled wide ... Abigail lay exposed pulled wide like a laboratory animal awaiting the vivisectionist. There was nothing she could do. The realisation of her complete vulnerability sent her into floods of tears. She was beyond begging, beyond intelligent thought. She moaned and whimpered. Then something painful was pushing into her there. She tried to move away from it but was held rigid. Suddenly without warning her bladder relaxed and she felt the relief as it emptied. But she could not feel wetness on her thighs. Desperately trying to think rationally she realised that a catheter had been inserted. Then despite her moans something was pushed into her bottom. Abigail had never been buggered so had no way of estimating the size but it felt huge. She lay in despair. What worse could they do to her. With a shriek she realised liquid was invading her bowels. She could feel it bubbling inside her forcing its way higher and higher distending her stomach. She tried desperately to expel the invader in her rectum. Straining as with the worst constipation. But it was held firm. It was awful. But then it was worse. Suddenly, without warning, it was removed and, to her despair and shame she shat. She could feel the explosions in her bottom and then could smell the results. Her bottom was sponged with warm water and patted dry with a soft towel. She could feel powder being dusted on. Then she screamed as something was put back in her anus. It felt huge. It stretched her painfully. However much she strained and moaned and begged she could not get rid of it. She sank back in despair.

There was a prick in her arm and she could feel a needle being inserted. She could feel sticky tape strapping something hard to her arm. Her jaws were opened wide, held apart by something hard and metallic and she felt her teeth being cleaned. She gulped nervously lest she choke. Then she tried desperately to choke. She could feel a tube being pushed down her throat. Now she could not speak. She lay there unmoving knowing she was helpless. Then there were strange sensations in her stomach. Not painful but it was being stretched, and stretched, and stretched. Just before it became unbearable it stopped. She could feel fingers running over her belly testing the tautness of the skin.

Her legs were moved so they were clear of her breasts. She felt fingers playing with her nipples making them tight. Then It was a strange sensation; a gentle pressure, not painful rather as if someone was continuously sucking them. The fingers returned to her pussy. They ran along her outstretched labia. She realised how obscene she must look. Then she moaned, she was being frigged again. She felt sure now it was someone different. This one was less gentle more urgent. The fingers squeezed and pulled. It was painful. But she recognised the sensations in her belly. She was aroused. Then with an inarticulate moan she came. Almost instantly it seemed her cunt was on fire. An agonised shriek came from her gagged throat. She twisted and bucked her hips. It was impossibly painful. A hand pushed her groin holding her firm and then as another excruciating spasm of white agony shot through her she passed out.

Slowly she recovered consciousness. She remembered it. But there was no pain now. She felt fingers working at her pussy. She could feel a needle being pushed into her and then a thread being pulled through the hole, but no pain. It stopped, her feet were returned to their starting position and she was left. Abigail wondered what had been done to her. Slowly, very slowly, the pain returned to her cunt. But it was a throbbing aching pain not that ghastly heart stopping stab of pain. What had they done? Abigail panicked. They could have done anything. Perhaps she had been sterilised. She started to panic. She struggled against her unmoving restraints. Then a soft female voice started speaking to her. “Abigail is a slave, Abigail is a slave” It repeated insistently. “Abigail loves Master, Abigail belongs to Master. Abigail worships Master. There is only Master, Abigail is nothing. Abigail is unworthy of Master. Abigail wants Master to use her. Abigail’s wishes are nothing. Abigail is nothing. Abigail wants Master to take her. Abigail wants Master to fuck her. Abigail wants Master to bugger her. Abigail wants Master’s cock in her throat. Abigail begs to kiss Master’s arse.” On and on it went softly insistent repeating. Abigail wanted to scream. “I am not a slave. I am free, I am free.”

But she began to wonder. “Who is Master? What is he like? Is he kind? Will he love me? Will I love him?” “Abigail wants Master’s babies. Abigail wants Master to make her belly swell. Please Master fuck Abigail. Abigail is nothing. Please Master make Abigail whole. Please Master let Abigail lick your balls, suck your prick. Abigail wants Master to fill her cunt. Abigail wants to be impregnated. Please Master put Abigail to stud. Abigail begs Master to steal her milk.” She felt that insistent sucking at her teats. Would Master be like that? Abigail was thinking what it would be like when Master took her. “Would he be gentle? Would he make her come?”

She had no idea of time. Every so often she felt food being pumped into her. Always her stomach was overfull. The plug would be removed from her bottom and unwillingly she would shit. Sometimes the surface she was on would vibrate easing her aching back. And all the time, awake and asleep, “Abigail begs Master to use her. Abigail is Master’s pet, His brood mare, his milch cow. Abigail is unworthy of Master’s children. Another slave should cover Abigail. Abigail begs to give Master slave babies. Abigail is an animal. Abigail begs to be kept in Master’s kennels. Abigail is a little bitch to be covered by a dog.” Abigail thought constantly of Master. Who was he? How did he own Abigail? Slowly unwittingly she became a slave. Her very being yearned to feel Master, to give herself to him.

Then one day it changed. She felt her ankles being unfastened and then almost immediately refastened. She could feel pedals beneath her soles. Her feet were moved. She felt as though she was cycling on her back. She felt wires being taped to her skin on the soft inner thigh and under her breasts. She continued cycling for a while; it was pleasant to exercise her legs. But she grew bored and stopped. A pain shot from her thigh to her breast. She gasped for breath,. She tried to scream. Then hands were at her feet making them pedal. She learnt. Stop pedalling and agony would result. And still the voice. “Abigail wants her thighs to be strong. Abigail wants to wrap them round Master. Abigail wants to be fucked by Master. Please Master fuck Abigail.” Without realising it she was trying to mouth the words.

When the cycle stopped Abigail flinched awaiting the pain. But nothing happened. Her feet were returned to their original position. Her hands were freed and fixed to a bar above her. “Abigail wants her arms to be strong. Abigail wants Master in her arms. Abigail begs to hug Master. Abigail loves Master” She felt her hands being pulled down. She pulled feeling the ache as she pulled weights up. “Abigail wants to be strong for Master. Abigail wants to be a healthy slave.” Day after day she struggled. The pedalling got harder, the weights heavier. “Abigail will be strong for Master. Abigail will be a perfect slave.” Then one day she felt the tube being withdrawn from her throat. “Abigail wants to be perfect for Master” Then another female voice started. “It’s water to your left” it said, “and fruit juice to the right.” “Abigail wants to suck Master” the female voice started. She turned her head to the left. Something brushed her cheek. Her neck was not so tightly restrained. She put her tongue out. There was a hard plastic bulb with a tiny drop of water at the tip. She licked it. “Suck,” the voice said. She closed her mouth over the bulb feeling a shaft behind. She realised what she was doing. She had never fellated a man now she was sucking this artificial prick. Then she felt something being done to her cunt. A dildo slid into her. “If you want to piss,” the voice said, “You’ll have to squeeze it” Abigail wondered what she meant. The voice droned on. “Abigail wants to be strong for Master. Abigail wants to be tight for Master. Abigail wants to please Master. Master is everything. Abigail is nothing.” Gradually the effect of her liquid diet began to have its effect. Her bladder was full. She tried to pee but nothing. It was painful. She remembered the dildo. It wasn’t very large. Hans had been much bigger. She tried desperately to squeeze it and felt a tiny release of pressure. On and on she struggled. It was exhausting. She discovered she could do it if she tried really hard but she couldn’t sustain the pressure. Spurt by spurt she emptied her bladder. “Abigail wants to be strong for Master. Abigail wants Master’s prick in her tight little cunt.” Day after day she exercised, even on some occasions pulling weights cycling and attempting to empty her bladder at the same time. Unconsciously she was repeating what the voice said.

Then she awoke to find she was unrestrained. She felt her body. She realised her eyes were not covered but it was still pitch black. Was she blind? The voice was still speaking on and on. Abigail was repeating what it said. “Abigail is a slave. Abigail loves Master.” Then, slowly at first it, started getting light. She found it painful squeezing her eyes shut. She began to see. The room she was in was walled with mirror glass. She was lying on a couch in the middle. To one side was a cycling machine and to the other a weightlifting frame. In one corner was a loo. Carefully she sat upright and lowered her feet to the floor. She looked at the wall opposite. “God.” was her first comment. Her hands flew to her breasts. She looked down. Her nipples were huge like ripe strawberries. “Abigail wants Master to suck her” she repeated. “Abigail wants Master to take her milk.” She looked down at her groin. It was completely bald and her slit looked like a little girls. She pulled her labia apart. Her clitoris was gone and in its place was a pearl mounted in gold. And her inner labia had been cut away. A thin white scar was the only evidence of their existence. She stood and looked at herself. She was much rounder than she remembered and her skin paler. Her stomach, once so flat from exercise was gently rounded. She wasn’t fat but she was much softer, more female. “Abigail wants to be perfect for Master.” She saw, projecting from the wall two plastic dildos. She ran to them knelt and sucked. She wanted to pee and ran to the loo. Nothing! “Abigail wants to be nice and tight for Master.” Frantically she looked around. Lying on shelf was a thin plastic cylinder, no thicker than a finger. She slid it into her and reciting “Abigail wants to be nice and tight for Master” she pissed. Then as she looked at herself in the glass she saw a glint of steel in her bottom. “Abigail wants Master to bugger her. Abigail begs Master to use her arse for his pleasure.” She pulled it out. Her eyes stared it was huge. How was it she hadn’t screamed with pain. “Abigail wants Master to enjoy her bottom. Abigail wants to be perfect for Master.” She pushed it back in.

She stayed in that room for an eternity. Food appeared at a slot in the wall. Every so often one of the machines would buzz and she would exercise. Reciting “Abigail wants to be clean for Master” she would walk to the shower and be washed. Without realising it she was doing whatever the insistent voice said. Then she started “Abigail wants to be trained for Master. Please Master have Abigail trained. Abigail wants to be perfect for Master.” Her pleading grew in intensity. Her voice implored. She cried. She wanted to be trained. She begged. Then when she awoke there were two books in the room and several training aids. There was a life sized male dummy with realistic balls lying on its back. There were two dummies, male and female, fucking on a bed. She opened the book. “Abigail’s book of positions for a slave to please her Master.” On page after page were illustrations of sexual positions. The other book was “How Abigail sucks Master.” That day she sat and read. Eventually she took the book and knelt between the outspread thighs of the erect dummy. “Abigail wants to lick Master’s balls” she said and proceeded to do so. She had read carefully what to do. She started at its feet kissing the soles and proceeded to kiss up the inside of its legs. “Abigail wants to go nice and slowly for Master.” Slowly Oh so slowly she edged up the plastic legs desperate to reach the hard balls. But “Abigail wants to kiss Master all over.” Eventually she lay outstretched the tip of her tongue flicking over the stones. “Abigail wants to suck Master’s balls” and always “Abigail is a slave. Abigail is nothing. Abigail only exists to please Master.” “Abigail wants to lick Master’s arse. Abigail wants to tongue Master’s anus. Abigail wants her tongue in Master’s arse.” She wept with relief when “Abigail wants to lick Master’s prick” came from her mouth and then with joy “Abigail wants to suck Master. Abigail wants to suck Master harder, Harder, Harder” and the dummy spurted into her. “Abigail wants to swallow it all. Abigail is honoured by Master’s spend.” She was surprised to see the dummy go limp

Day after day, week after week Abigail trained. She learnt all the sexual positions. She learnt to ream Master whilst he was mounting another slave. She dreamt of him. She so wanted to see him. She ate the food even though it seemed very rich to her “Abigail wants to be soft for Master. Abigail is Master’s little fuck slut. Abigail belongs to Master.” The one day she realised she was not trying hard enough. However much she tried she sucked him too soon. She couldn’t help herself. Even as she recited “Abigail wants to kiss Master’s thighs” she was sucking the plastic balls. “Abigail is naughty. Abigail doesn’t love Master.” Then one morning she looked at the erect dummy and realised she could ride it. Her constant state of sexual arousal made her very frustrated. She straddled the dummy and with one hand parting her labia she sank onto him. The pain was unbelievable. She lay screaming cupping her burning cunt. It seemed to go on forever. She rolled and writhed screaming all the while. Slowly, far too slowly it ebbed. “Abigail is wicked. Abigail is a whore. Abigail is a slut. Abigail would fuck anything.” And she realised how much she needed to be punished. “Abigail begs Master to whip her. Please Master whip the wickedness from Abigail.” She was weeping with contrition. Perhaps Master wouldn’t want her. She couldn’t bear the thought. When she awoke there was a pillory on the room. There were rings for her neck and hands, one for her waist and set back rings for her ankles. Reciting “Please whip me Master.” She placed herself in position and the rings snapped shut. In the mirrored wall she could see a panel slide back and then, how she trembled, a thin rattan cane appeared held in a leather gauntlet. “Is that Master?” she thought. “Please can it be Master.” The rod stroked her nates making her tremble with fear and excitement. And then she watched as it rose. She saw a thin red line appear across her bum and then screamed. The pain was unbelievable. Her buttocks wobbled she clenched them and struggled. “Abigail thanks you Master. Abigail wants Master to whip her idle bottom.” Twelve times the dreadful cane sliced into her and twelve times she begged for more. After that she trained the harder but still she begged for the whip. She knew it made her better, more compliant, more the perfect slave. And she knew that unless she was perfect she would never see Master. She cried that she might never see him, never feel him, never give herself to him. She knew she belonged to him but she wanted to make it absolute, unconditional