The Making of a Slave
Copyright© 2022 by Desolation Arts
Chapter 9
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 9 - Haley, a pretty young woman wakes to find herself bound, helpless, and naked. A sadistic woman wants to train her to become a mindless slave to serve her Foundation. If Haley cannot escape or resist them, she runs the risk of losing her mind and living her life in servitude. Meanwhile, Anne struggles to except the loss of someone close. She works to gain the trust of the Prime Dom and move up in the organization. If she fails, she could lose it all.
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Mult NonConsensual Rape Slavery Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction BDSM DomSub FemaleDom Humiliation Sadistic Torture Gang Bang Anal Sex Enema Oral Sex
This is how things went for Haley for the next several weeks. Her life was filled with an endless routine of pain, assault, and bondage. Along with that, came the constant drum beat of those words forced into her weakened mind. It became harder and harder for her to remember her life before, and harder to remember her name. She tried valiantly to repeat her name in her mind, but more than once she thought the name Object Michelle 053 before correcting herself. As time went by these instances grew more frequent. Until the name, Haley, seemed wrong to her and she began to question if that had ever been her name.
She only saw Anne, her slave helpers, and those men who attacked her ceaselessly. The only one who spoke was Anne, and aside from her, the only other words she heard were the ones that blared into her ears reminding her of her true purpose. Words she now heard in the very few hours of sleep she was allowed.
One day she woke in her cell and her restraints had been removed. She fell asleep in restraints, as she always did, but they must have been removed while she slept. That never happened, she was held in some kind of bondage at all times. She got up from the cold cement floor. She was naked, as always, and noticed the door to her cell was left open.
Surely, they were coming right back for her. She waited, a long time, and still nothing happened. Summoning enough courage to approach the door she peered into the hall and saw no one. After more hesitation she stepped into the hall and tensed, waiting for her punishment, which did not come.
Taking several deep breaths, she forced herself to walk down the hall in the direction that went the furthest before she could see a wall. She rounded the corner and eventually reached an elevator. She knew this was wrong, wrong to leave her cell, wrong to move without permission, and wrong to hope she might find escape at the top of this elevator. But, some old piece of her, long buried beneath months of pain and brain washing, forced her to step onto the elevator.
The elevator went up for a long time, long enough, that her ears popped from the change in elevation. When the doors slid open there was a short hall and then a steep staircase going up. She slowly, nervously, ascended the steps and reached a storm door. She pushed up on the door and to her surprise it opened.
She gasped as bright, warm light hit her eyes and face. She turned away, shielding them, but even as she did, she could feel the warmness of the sun on her bare skin. This was an unusually pleasant sensation for her. After waiting for her eyes to adjust she stepped fully outside.