Her Use

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."

She does.

He spanks her for a minute, hard.

"Ow, that hurts!" she blurted out, clearly surprised and upset.

He spanks her much harder. She yelps and whimpers and reaches back to try shielding her bare butt with her hands, but they get hit too and the stinging makes her flinch them away.

"Do NOT speak again! Not without my permission. Or you will be whipped, little girl."

He spanked her a little more before stopping.

She was crying. Sobbing, face down into her arms crossed in front of her, on the floor.

He finished getting up, all while seeming to ignore the now superficially sad condition of the naked crying girl with the red-beaten ass.

He tucked his now sticky wet and wilting cock back into his pants. And generally rearranged his suit. Back to looking "professional" again? Whatever his official vanilla-world cover profession might be, she didn't know: was he more like a beauty scout? Talent recruiter? Fitness trainer? Special forces adviser? CIA spy? Consigliere? Harem manager? She could only attest firsthand to the wickedness of his mind, the hypnotic power of his voice, and the crude skills he applied to her naked flesh, cruelly and at will.

"Crying is allowed. I like the sound of it."

He left the room, closing the door behind, and with a "*CLACK!*" she heard the sound of him locking it from the outside. She would not be going anywhere.

Her buttocks were sore now from the spanking. And the man's cum drooled out of her cunt onto the carpeted floor beneath her. It was humiliating. But for now she was just glad to be alone again. Lost in her thoughts. Wondering what all the coming days and months might bring. Indeed the coming years: the contract she agreed to committed her to service for the next ten years. When she was in the prime of her youth while also still newly adult and therefore legal for all things erotic.

Her compensation was made in parts, gradually: an initial portion of money sent on signing; then additional small (by their standards) amounts made periodically as long as she remained under service with them (in other words: not kicked to the metaphorical curb) and in good standing; then a final payout made after the full planned term ended -- only on their side's satisfaction & sole judgment thereof & of whatever arbitrary criteria they felt like citing at the time -- though it was the single largest portion, exactly two-thirds of the total pay possible.

Thus the last payout acted as a kind of bonus in order to incentivize her to stick around the full duration as well as keep her Owners happy. Technically they were more like Renters but somehow that term didn't have the same ring, plus the rights they held over her during the contract period were so extreme and all-encompassing they certainly felt more like Owners than anything else.

She liked being Owned. It gave her tingles. Made her wet. Even thinking of it now: while laying on the floor of an empty room (in a mysterious building and in an unknown country), on a dirty carpet, naked on her belly, face down, ass up, post "rape" by a stranger, him having beaten her naked butt and the man's seed leaking slowly since in dribbles from her young inexperienced pussy. The thought aroused her something fierce, and made her feel very warm. Made her feel... safe. As fucked up as that sounded considering the level of danger she knew she was in!

...

The same man returns, entering the room but now carrying a metal folding chair. He sets it up in the middle of the room, next to where she was laying. The chair is generally facing the door, and he stands in front of it now while facing this chair.

He tells her to get her pretty butt up off the floor and then sit on the chair. With her legs spread. And then to play with her clit. To make herself feel good, while he watched. She is to maintain eye contact with him the entire time.

If she does all this he'll reward her by allowing her to put her panties back on. Otherwise she'll get a bad spanking again. But regardless, either way, he tells her, he will then take her somewhere new.

Her clothes were still laying on the floor, too, and she glanced at them, quickly confirming her panties were still in the pile there, on top of her pants. She had knew enough that it was probably unwise to put anything back on after the man had left her alone before.

She gets up. Sits on the chair. Spreads her legs. Establishes eye contact with him.

Then she slid a hand down across her belly to her clit and begins rubbing.

She got wet immediately. Nipples stiffening. Eyes dilating. Flush brought to her face. Breathing deepened. She wanted to make an *Mmmmmmm* sound but didn't know if she'd be whipped for it -- if he considered it to be speaking. So she tried hard to stay silent.

She did begin small circular motions with her hips, grinding her cunny into her hand and fingers. Wetness got onto the chair's cool metal surface and made it slippery. She felt the wetness a little under her bare butt too and it made it more humiliating as she slid her crotch forward and back and forward again in an almost cyclical pumping motion as if she was fucking her own hand.

Technically she went beyond what he asked of her. Partly she could not help it -- she gave in to her horny lust without shame then -- and partly she remembered from the contract they wished her to do tasks with eagerness and focus. When all was said and done her final bonus payout would depend on how much they felt that their Slut impressed them or tried hard enough anyway. She was trying to, now. She liked money and the lifestyle it unlocked. She did not like pain or humiliation. Well, not really. Though she was learning she had a complicated relationship with those two things: a paradoxical one.

"Ok, ok... I've seen enough, little girl. Dayum. Got me hard again. But no time to dump more cum inside you. Have a schedule to keep."

He stepped over to her clothing pile, leaned down and picked up her panties. They were pink with white frills. He brought them to his nose. Inhaled. Sniffing their fragrance, she assumed. The second-hand smell of her pussy. He was such a perv! Then he tossed them at her.

She had still been fingering her wet cunny but when the dirty panties hit her square in her face she stopped. Flinched. They dropped down into her lap. She grabbed them. Stood up. Put them on, one leg at a time, pulling them up into place and snug. Her pussy was wet and so it quickly seeped through the panty material. The man could see it, the growing darker stain and how it cloyed to her and emphasized her small dark pubic hair bush down there. He had watched her get dressed, like a hawk.

"Well thats nasty. And yet... I approve."

He lurched toward her, grabbed her right hand, and then yanked her into motion, as he walked out of the room, leading her by hand.

Just before they left the room she could not help giving a glance back over her shoulder to her clothes pile. In her pants in a pocket was her phone. She wondered if they would let her make any calls from it later? Little did she know then, however, that she would never be seeing anything in that pile ever again -- all part of her old life being shed. Into her new one she walked now nearly naked but for cheap pink panties and those soaked by her own depraved and clearly needy pussy.

It was a fitting beginning.

...

He led her down a hall that had many other doors connected to it, all of them closed and without signage. It struck her as odd.

He opened one and led her in behind him. It was like a home bathroom.

"Go stand in the bath."

There was a bathtub along one wall, the kind with an integrated shower and plastic curtains, already pulled aside.

She got in. Stood there waiting, with one hand against the wall to help her balance.

He walked over too. From a resting mount on the wall he removed a nozzle connected by a flexible metal hose (to the source plumbing) and held it in his right hand.

"Spread your legs. And yes brace yourself if needed to keep from slipping. Its far too early in your contract for the goods to get damaged."

The thought made her wet a little. The idea she was merely "goods" which could get damaged and therefore implied to lose some future utility or value to them. She did not know why, but... it turned her on. Because it made her feel Owned. However fucked up!

"This is happening to you only because I can make it happen to you. No other reason needed. Whether your cunt ever gets washed clean, now and then, matters nothing to me. I do want you to feel the sensations, however. All the sensations. And I want you to feel it in your mind, too, and really dwell on it there, for me. Its implications. For your new life. With me. With... us."

Sensations? She wondered what exactly he meant. Found out almost immediately:

With his left hand the man reached down and grabbed the crotch hem of her pussy-juice-and-cum-soaked panties and pulled them fast over to the side, in a yank, exposing her cunny slit to the air directly.

The man brought the hose nozzle's head over to her cunt -- its tip had almost a sort of smooth metal cone shape with five holes in it, she assumed for water. He touched it to her slit -- she flinched, it was cold -- and then adjusted its position to be just outside her vag entrance. Held it there.

"Brace yourself, bitch."

His left hand reached up and turned the cold water knob to ON. All the way! The hot side was left off. His right hand held the nozzle tip pressed firmly against her vag.

Her eyes widened when she saw him do this -- the implications! -- and in an instant the hose twitched and stiffened like a snake waking up and---

"OH!!!" she yelled out loudly (and practically right into her tormentor's ear). She could not help yelling, even if she would regret it immediately: it was the shock, the sheer intensity and pain!

ICY COLD water had erupted from the nozzle and sprayed her aroused cunt in a torrent, completely pouring all over it and around her pussy and exposed slit and even forcing some of the painfully cold shower water up inside her vagina, itself so recently fucked and therefore still sensitive, and still slimy from male semen. Still... filthy, like a whore at shift's end.

The cruel water was biting and it made her shudder and shake and knees wobble as she redoubled her efforts to stay braced and standing up. The icy shock surely making her internal vaginal girth shrink and lose whatever natural lubrication she might have had when she had stepped into the tub originally.