She was paid to do this.
She had agreed to it.
She read detailed descriptions in a language she was confirmed to be fluent in, and then filled out forms and signed them -- it was witnessed in person and video recorded.
She was also over age 18 and therefore adult and fully legal for all matters involving nudity and sex and consent. The compensation and its intended exchanged acts were all also fully legal for her and in all relevant jurisdictions as well.
Therefore no matter how hard her upcoming ordeal might become for her it was all merely what she had consented to, in advance, and thus there would be no going back...
...
"From now on and until we tell you otherwise your name is... Slut."
The man addressing her paused as if he wished to really let it sink in. This new 'rule' for her. It was only one rule and rather simple but she knew there would be many new ones total governing her daily life ahead and some much harder to comply with.
"Therefore, you will -- along with anyone else we let come into contact with you going forward -- also refer to yourself by that name -- Slut. And only in the third person form. We know you know what we mean by that."
The man paused a moment as if to read her face. She nodded, quickly.
"Though by default you are not allowed to speak or ask questions without permission. Not anymore."
He paused again, as if to let this rule sink in. It was an important one.
"You will also not deny any demand or request made of you, no matter how extreme or whether you happen to like it or not. Rather you will obey and carry out the task fast and eagerly and with an appropriate level of focus and care. Otherwise... you risk swift and harsh punishments, the nature of those only at the sole discretion of those who choose to give them. In other words: consider this fair warning upfront that we do NOT fuck around, little girl."
She seemed to absorb this last one especially in a state of fear and dread, and uncertainty, and perhaps the beginnings of having second thoughts. Perhaps it was not really too late to back out? The problem now of course was that she wasn't even allowed to ask that. Though she knew, deep down, she had no excuse.
And so... she nodded, though more slowly and with obvious reluctance. It was all so confusing, in a way, even if the words and their logic were so clear and left no room for lazy ignorance or entire-point-negating exceptions. So she tried to brighten up her expression and nod a second time, faster, with more genuine feeling.
The man -- a rather handsome one in a black suit, tall and clearly muscular, with short cut black hair, a unique scar on his cheek -- did notice.
She looked carefully at his eyes too, then. The man's eyes were utterly mesmerizing for her -- like a hunter or warrior's eyes -- the kind which could haunt a girl's dreams -- well, a certain kind of dreams anyway, she thought. The naughty kind!
"Take off your clothes, slut," he said, suddenly, and in a tone which startled her out of her own feminine analysis or day-fantasy. It was a tone both harsh and supremely confident. And very... masculine. And yes, of course, both his words, his tone and the thought of the demanded deed itself all added up to make her panties damp, fast. Not that that would matter much longer:
She... began to comply. Starting with kneeling down and untying her shoes...
...
She was nude.
"Lay down," the man ordered. "On your back. This will not be for your enjoyment."
She does. On the floor.
He stepped towards her and began unbuckling belt.
She loved the sort of evil knowing grin that broke out on his face when he unbuckled but once he began unzipping his pants her eyes own focus shifted next to that portion of his anatomy. She began to wonder what exactly this was going to be like, what he was about to do to her -- the anticipation alone was incredibly exciting even if at the same time she was totally terrified.
She was no virgin. Hymen gone. Some cute but dumb young man had deflowered her a few months prior -- it had hurt at first and she hated it initially but quickly warmed up to it as well, if only at a psychological level -- her suitor was completely unskilled and so was she. At intercourse anyway.
However, she had become a rather expert masturbator -- not unusual for young American females any more -- and had become addicted to reading erotica: especially anything with so-called BDSM or CNC or fantasy prostitution, and crazily rough sex -- especially. Sex slavery too was a massive turn-on for her, at least as a fantasy. Then add in the rather large financial troubles she had already at her age -- family problems (and lack thereof), essentially -- she was practically the perfect candidate for the opportunity which led her to this moment.
"I have no condoms, if thats what you're wondering," he said to her then, as if misunderstanding her expression. "Not that we'll have you use them much going forward, little slut. Perhaps the idea of breeding you excites us, who knows? I know I have very wealthy friends who like to see baby bumps in their harems."
This got her attention. She didn't want to get pregnant! She lifted her eyes to his face, opened her mouth to probably protest and say, "No, sir!" but even as the "N" sound was coming out he slapped her. Hard enough to cut her off, but not so hard as to truly hurt her.
The slap seemed to have the desired effect. So he continued:
Unzipped, he used one hand to lower the top of his underwear and the other to help guide his cock out. It was... erect. And long. And thick. Girthy. Fat mushroom head. Tip's slit oozing pre-cum already. And his shaft was pointing straight up. With a slight banana curve. It was circumcised. A few veins. No blemishes. Clean looking. Not that she had seen many before in person like this.
"You will become very familiar with this part of me, little girl. This cock. Though it will be only one of many, in your new life. So... let's get your introduction to it over? There will be no romance to it, no foreplay. Life is not a story. And I have no love for you, of course. Right now all you are is a cunt. An Owned cunt. Now spread your legs and give me a smile!"
She did, both.
The man kneeled down and got between her legs. And...
There was no romance. No passion. No foreplay. And he clearly cared not a whit for the female's enjoyment. He had warned her of all this, of course, upfront.
...
Still, about an hour passed as he rutted between Slut's legs. There on the floor in an otherwise empty room. He seemed to have a lot of pent-up frustration accumulated and the man needed to let it go somewhere... to release it. He released it all, alright: into her.
Into the Slut.
...
He was done fucking her.
And yes he had came inside her. In her tight twat. In her young and fertile pussy.
He spent no more than a minute inside her, after inseminating her. Though he enjoyed feeling his hard cock soak in the slimy mix of both his male cum and the girl's own self-lubricating pussy fluids. He always felt blissfully relaxed in the immediate afterglow of his ejaculations into a clearly horny bitch. But in a way it also made him feel... vulnerable, and weak. He did not like that part. And so after summoning the strength (to leave the blissful grasp of a tightly gripping, velvet hot wet cunt) he withdrew his wilting penis from her vag.
He doubted she had came, and frankly he did not care -- he fucked her roughly and selfishly and without giving any attention to either the girl's nipples or clit -- without even any "dirty talk" for her oh-so-dirty mind. (Afterall: what kind of girl would sign a contract like this? She was young enough to be his daughter and he would certainly feel like a failed father if his own precious offspring grew up into this depraved and reckless of a whore!) And yet... there was a problem. A potentially Big Problem.
She was looking at him. At his face. In that certain way that chicks sometimes do. The look they get when they're in some kind of romantic haze (or post-orgasmic bliss as well) and perhaps may even be wondering, privately, to themselves if they are beginning to "fall in love" -- Twu Wuv -- and all its implications. If so, that... could be a Problem. Especially this early into things. They had such huge plans for her. Devious ones and over a longer term. He did not wish to risk de-railing them. There was simply too much at stake.
Action was needed, fast.
Though he had already been in the process of standing back up he suddenly changed plans: he reached down and slapped her face: once, twice, three times, four, back and forth and back and forth, from each side and so on each of her cheeks -- but never too hard. A sting more than a concussion. Was an art to it: one he had some practice with.
Her rosy, buzzy dreamy-look face went away and was replaced with an angry, baleful stare at him. He was lucky the young slut was not a witch or her Curse then could make his crotch itch for decades.
"That..." he began to tell her, because it was important to get her evolving down a different mental path, ASAP, however 'false' the explanation given. "... was for not moving your hips enough. Do better next time!"
She pouted.
He thought about using his belt for what came next but decided to start with something more basic. Heck: go back enough millions of years all a man had to use on his woman, back in those days, were his hands.
"Turn over. Onto your belly."
