Hello, my lovely readers. This is the first chapter in a new story about the capture and training of a beautiful natural submissive by a gentle, but very devious master. It's probably best to read in order, but each chapter should stand on its own as a little story, which you can enjoy by itself if you like. As always, this is just fantasy.
-IT
* * *
I was pleased with my latest acquisition, and the ease with which I'd acquired her. Looking back, it's hard to believe how much effort I used to put into the hunt. I used to follow a girl for months sometimes, learning her schedule, her home layout -- hell, I'd track down and map not just her route, but the surveillance cameras along her route. By the time I made the pickup, I'd be either too wound up or too tired or too paranoid to really enjoy her. It made the job almost a chore.
Nowadays, I just play the odds. State Parks, National Parks, unincorporated towns. Make an opportunity like a real hunter, and I end up with just as good at the end. Maybe better, because I have better energy at the start of the training, and girls pick up on that. It could just be all the practice I've had, but the commissions I get from my buyers keep going up, and you can't argue with that.
This one was special, though. I suppose I thought that every time, but it was true: each one was special. Today's special girl was short and plump, with the kind of oversized tits that always made a girl look a little kinky on her feet to me -- especially naked -- like she'd really been made for all fours, and was only on two legs to entice and provoke me. Her face was pretty too, with rosy cheeks a small, upturned nose, and a cute little mouth with plumped lips. My slave and technician, Cubby, had talked me into a few minor improvements. We'd used a bit of permanent makeup on her cheeks to even up the tone and bring out the natural rosiness, and added some extra volume to her pouty little mouth, just to bring out its natural charm.
I hadn't added any piercings yet. I wasn't sure how they'd look with her wide, nearly flat nipples, and I usually don't do piercings until training's over anyway, since keeping them clean is a hassle and they need to be treated delicately. But we had tattooed them with a UV active pink to brighten them up, and they nearly glowed against her pale pink aureoles. The only other thing we'd done was to shave her head and treated it with a depilator to slow regrowth. Her pretty red mound I left, because it was handy to have to hang onto and pull on during training.
At any rate, she'd have to wait to see the work on her face, which was just as well; seeing her long, wavy red locks gone would have probably stressed her needlessly, even if she'd known I'd made them into a beautiful wig for her. And anyway, the mask created a perfect look. It was a mirrored composite, tight and very strong, but breathable. It was a great training aid too, with electronically dimmable panels over her eyes, and noise canceling/amplifying headphones so I could turn on and off her sight and sound as needed, augmenting the sound canceling with a constant drone of white noise that I'd found helped keep slaves passive and relaxed, while helping to prevent any ambient noise from penetrating the headphones.
We'd cleaned her teeth carefully, before closing her mouth around a modified dental mold device, gluing her jaw temporarily closed, and limiting her to grunts until I applied the release agent. It was quite useful, and could be kept in almost indefinitely. There was a little valve where she could be given water and meal replacements, and a second that led to a small reservoir in the top plate which I could fill with narcotics, psychedelics, aphrodisiacs, and anything else I found useful for her training. They could be dispensed at will through pores in the plate, and replenished without removing the gag. It even had a concealed latch, which I could use to open her mouth in emergencies, although I rarely used it/ The plates were a bit too cumbersome for fellatio, and the sense that it was all permanent had a salutary effect on new slaves, encouraging them to develop more desirable ways of communicating.
Her lower legs were covered in towering, silver stiletto platform boots, locked to her feet. As for her hands, I'd encased them in tight, silver rubber mitts that held the fingers together in a curve, and the thumb, bent in opposition. They were customized and designed for her hands, with built-in cuffs, and a key operated ratchet to adjust their position. Right now they were mostly open in the mannequin look I liked. They were perfect for training, and would stay on for weeks like the mouth guard. She couldn't deliver a hard strike, push off of anything effectively, or even pick up an object -- not with her hands anyway. By the time I took them off again, she'd have developed wonderful strength and control with her pelvic muscles.
I watched her thoughtfully as I clicked off the noise canceling. Observant girls would notice the change immediately, hearing the air in the room, but if she were too tired or too deep in her own thoughts, a girl might miss it. This girl caught it immediately, and gave out a little grunt, rearranging her shaking legs. I'd set her up on a one-bar prison, the lubricated steel cock pressing just a few inches inside of her cunt, and she grunted at the feel of the steel prod shifting inside of her. She pulled at her arms, spread-eagle and clamped at the upper arms. I watched her sway her forearms back and forth, whimpering as she pressed the backs of her fingers against her head.
The gesture looked ineffectual and childish in a cute way. I wondered if she'd see it that way. I turned down the room lights and flipped on a spotlight directed at her, then turned on her vision. I heard the prod rattle as she recoiled at the reflection suddenly appearing in front of her. Her pectorals tensed as she pulled pointlessly at her arms, giving her breasts a nice shake.
"Lovely," I said, speaking into the little microphone that made my voice appear to come from the center of her head. "Do that again, and I'll help you down." The way the mirror was angled, she couldn't see me in the corner, and her oversized collar prevented her from turning her head far enough to peer over her shoulder. Aside from the mirror, the basin beside it, and her brightly lit body, held in place by gleaming steel at the arms and cunt, she probably couldn't see much. She grunted again, louder, more angry. I watched her plump ass shiver as she moved her legs, torturing her cunt again and putting on a nice show for me.
"No worries, I can come back later if you'd like."
I stifled my laugh as she grunted, turning herself back and forth in lieu of shaking her head. "Well?"
She took a deep breath and then pulled, giving her breasts a single, impressive wobble. I waited for a moment, curious if she'd continue it, but instead she grunted to get my attention. She'd done her bit, now she expected me to do mine. Very well. I blacked out her vision, walking up. She was tense and quiet, listening as I walked slowly across the floor in my leather work boots. I could see her skin turn to goose flesh as I came up.
"That was very nice. Until we release your jaw, you can do that any time you need my attention." I lifted her breasts from behind, my bulge brushing her back through my black slacks. "Are your nipples sore at all?" I pinched her nipples lightly between my thumb and forefingers, the little buds perking, crinkling and drawing in her wide areolas. She was silent, still, gently shaking, her breath coming out in little whimpers. I lowered them slowly, my nose picking up a pungent smell. I walked around her, looking at her legs. Sure enough, my pet had peed herself.
"Looks like you had an accident, didn't you girl?" I asked, my voice sympathetic. I could see her soft belly tighten as her skin flushed, her breathing quick and shallow. I stroked her flank affectionately. "It's okay, little pet. Accidents happened. I didn't bring you here to hurt you. Let's clean you up, and then I'll get you down, okay?"
I couldn't tell if she were trying to nod or just shaking, and it pained me to see her in distress. I flipped a small panel on her collar, and pressed a button. She froze as a medicinal flavored syrup dripped out of her top mouth plate. It was a small dose of my own concoction -- a bit of sedative to ward off panic, enough of a dissociative to help her enjoy her experience despite its implications, a modest dose of MDMA to make our first encounter more positive.
"There you go. Swallow that like a good girl, and you'll feel more relaxed, okay?"
That set her off. By the tone of her grunts, I could tell she was cursing me. Back in the day, I would have punished her harshly, but these days I rarely punish my girls -- at least, not directly. I'd never really enjoyed that part, anyway. A girl should be relieved to have her owner there, not frightened of him, but when I was doing this for a living, I needed to turn out product fast. I don't need the money anymore, although I do still sell an occasional girl to fund my hobby and clear out space. I can use a slower, more gentle approach because and let it take as much time as is natural, and the few clients I still work with say I'm doing the best work of my career. And honestly, I feel so much more satisfied with my work this way.
I clipped her ankle boots to the rigid frame to stabilize her legs, in the process dragging her down a little further on the steel dildo, and placed my hand gently on her lower belly. "We'll continue when you're ready, okay sweetie?" Without waiting for a reply, I shut off her hearing and walked out of the room, listening to her curses follow me.
I set a timer and sat down at the piano to work my way through my daily lessons exercises (one of many hobbies I'd picked up in semi-retirement.) After so many years as a trainer, it was usually easy to put a girl out of mind between sessions, but I really liked this one. I replayed her acquisition one more time. I must confess, she'd been a bit of a challenge. She'd been camping solo in an undeveloped campsite, but there was a road nearby and the chance of other campers in earshot, so it was a delicate acquisition. I'd found a perfect little stand of low brush and waited there before dawn with my blowgun (less accurate than an air rifle, but it was quieter, and I was very good with it) and waited. But when she came out to make breakfast, she opted to kneel on the other side of the campfire, and with the way her thick fleece was bunched, I really didn't have a good shot.
It was getting late, and I was about to throw a rock into the underbrush to get her to stand and look, when a little rabbit did the trick for me, cautiously advancing to graze on a patch of clover, then bolting when she moved.
"Hey, little buddy," she'd said in a lovely, warm voice, standing up and taking a few slow steps, so as not to scare it further off. "Pfft!" went the blow dart, through her shorts and into her soft rump.
