Taken And Trained 1

I wake up in an unfamiliar bed, in a strange room. The light is dim, but I can make out a few things. There are no windows, no furniture other than the bed I'm lying in.

There's a door to my left. I can just make out some light underneath it.

There are rough sheets covering me. I lift them up, off of me.

I'm naked.

Where are my clothes?

The last thing I remember is being at a club. It was my friend's birthday- she's the last of us to turn 21, so we were out celebrating. I went to the bathroom in the back of the club, and then- then next thing I remember is right now.

Was there something in my drink?

I shake my head. It feels fuzzy.

As I continue to ruminate, the light under the door flickers, disappears for a second.

There are feet.

I hear a lock, then a doorknob turning. Someone is coming in.

I pull the covers to my chin. My hands are shaking.

The door opens, and a person enters the room. A man, judging just by height. I can't see much as he's silhouetted in the doorway.

He turns, closing the door, and flicks on a light, and I can see him.

"Good morning, baby," he says, smiling. His dark hair and eyes, along with his five o'clock shadow, make him handsome, but his dangerous smile leaves me cold.

"Who are you? Where am I?" I try and fail to keep the tremor out of my voice.

"You may call me Ryder. That's not my name, of course, but that's what you'll use. Or Sir," he adds, smirking.

"What do you want from me?"

"You're here for training," he says, simply. He reaches down, pulls my sheet out of my hand and down, exposing me. I kick out, catching him in the leg, and scramble backward on the small bed.

He's too fast for me. He grabs my ankles, flipping me to my stomach. I pull at the sheets, trying to get away, but his one hand on my back is too strong. He holds me in place like a small child.

"To answer your next question, baby, you are being trained to obey. To listen to those who have power over you. To not question. There will be many lessons on this topic, I can already tell."

As he speaks, I feel something cold tracing my bottom cheeks. It feels smooth, supple. As I struggle to escape, I feel it lift. I hear a whistle of air, then a loud crack.

A split second later, the searing pain hits. I scream, fighting to get away. He brings it down again and again on my ass. The pain grows, building fire on my ass. I'm screaming, crying, begging. Finally, spent, I lay limp, sobbing as the lashes continue.

His hand lifts from my back. The leather strikes two, three, four more times. I don't fight it anymore.

At long last, it stops. I jerk as his hand rubs across my bruised cheeks, squeezing the flesh with a renewed ache.

"That was lesson one, baby. Don't fight me." He grabs my ankles again, flips me face up.

My ass burns as it rubs against the rough sheets.

But despite the pain, I feel my core heating. I squeeze my legs together so he won't see my wetness.

I'm certain he knows, from his smirk.

"Let's try this again. You are here for training. You will be trained as a slave, to serve a master. To obey. How long the training takes is up to you. Once I am confident that you are trained to my standards, you will be sold as a slave. Your life, as you know it, is over."

I'm trembling on the bed as I hear these words. A slave. No. I shake my head from side to side. No. This isn't happening. I look to the door. There must be a way out.

He follows my gaze. "Go ahead, baby. Try it."

The taunt in his voice, and my sore ass, make me think better of it. I'll wait, find my escape.

"Stand up."

I stare at him, not moving.

He pulls something from his belt. A leather strap. "Do you need another taste of the strap, baby? I went easy on you last time. We can make the next lesson stick a little better if we need to."

I shake my head, forcing myself to my feet. He gathers my hands behind me and walks me forward, toward the door. It opens inward, and he pulls me a step back to let it swing wide.

We're in a brightly lit hallway. Doors line both sides. Are there other girls here, kidnapped like me? I tug at my hands, and his grip tightens.

His low chuckle comes from behind me. "Oh, baby, I know how to take care of bad girls like you. Don't worry."

He steers me toward one door and opens it, propelling me inside. The door closes behind us.

I hear a lock click.

There's a doctor's table in front of me, cabinets lining the walls. I dig my heels in. I'm not getting on that table.

His dark chuckle comes from behind me again. "Come on, baby. Up on the table."

He pushes me forward. My feet nearly leave the floor as I move forward, despite my attempts to hold back.

As we near the table, a door on the far side of the room opens. Two more men walk through it. They're tall, built.

Hot, but that's not the point.

I'm outnumbered now.

Ryder lets go of my hands. Before I can react to run, his hands are under my armpits, lifting me onto the table. I thrash, kicking out, but hands come to my shoulders, pressing me down into the table. More hands hold my legs as straps are pulled over my chest, hips, and direct my legs into stirrups. More straps around my ankles. I'm trapped.

My breath is coming in short pants. I'm panicking.

Ryder appears above me, turning my head to look toward him.

"You're okay, baby. Look at me."

Somehow, his voice calms me. I'm shaking, still, but no longer flailing in the restraints.

"Gavin and Jake are here to help you, too. But you're going to be a good girl for me, right?"

I nod.

Why am I agreeing with him?

He moves out of my line of sight. My legs move up, apart. I push inward, against the movement, but I can't stop it.

I can lift my head enough to see one of the new men standing between my legs, pulling on latex gloves. I pull at my restraints.

He looks down at me. "You're okay, baby." He sounds just like Ryder. "My name is Gavin. I'm a medic. We're going to check you out and make sure you're healthy to start training."

He says this like it's reassuring. I don't want to be trained. I don't want to be here. I pull again, hard.

Nothing happens.

Gavin pushes my legs even further back, bending my knees until they're almost touching my torso. Everything is exposed.

I feel something cold drizzle over my back hole.

No.

I clench, hard.

A gloved finger circles my rosebud, then pushes inside briefly.

Then something hard, cold nudges my forbidden hole. I clench, but it slides in, deeper and deeper.

"Just getting your temperature, baby. Don't fight it."

Of course I'm fighting it.

It stays, forever, then finally slides out.

"Good girl. We're just going to make sure everything is healthy. Just relax, baby."

My legs are pulled away from my torso, then wide. A gloved hand rests on my mound, the other opening my folds.

"You're wet, baby. You fight, but you like this."

His finger smears my wetness all around my entrance. Something cold pokes at my entrance. A speculum. It slides in until the handle is touching me, then opens.

It keeps opening, wider and wider. It's stretching me too much.

It hurts.

I whimper, pulling at my restraints, trying to get away.

The speculum keeps opening. Finally it stops and stays, splaying my pussy open. Something pokes at my cervix. Then the speculum closes, slides out.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

My reprieve is short lived. His hand is between my folds, separating them, pushing below my clit.

"I'm going to get a urine sample, baby." He says, casually.

A what?

Something pokes at an opening I've never experienced before. My urethra. The catheter slides in. I push, but I can't stop it. It burns as it pushes in, father than I thought possible.

I hear liquid pouring into a container.

I can't look.

I feel the catheter sliding out of me. I try to close my legs, hoping he's done.

He's not.

Gavin smacks the inside of my thigh, hard.

I try to hold still, but I'm shaking.

He slides two fingers into my pussy. They stretch up, up, too far into me. He widens them as he pulls out, then pushes back in. Widen, pull, push in. He adds a third finger.

I yelp. It hurts so much, but that's not the worst part.

The worst part is that despite the pain, it feels good.

I'm scared I'm going to come.

My legs are shaking as he twists his fingers inside me, then pulls them out.

The stirrups are repositioned again, bringing my knees up to expose my forbidden hole.

No. No!

I thrash in the restraints. Ryder appears above my head, holding my shoulders.

"Stop that, baby. Hold still for Gavin. Almost done, baby."

Picturing his strap, I try to hold still. His fingers part my cheeks, and more lube drizzles on to my back hole. Gavin's finger pokes at my rosebud, then pushes inside.

I push him out, but it makes no difference.

He pulls back, then adds a second finger, painfully stretching my ring of muscles.

He removes his fingers. I can see him as he pulls the gloves off.

"She has a lot in there. We'll need to do a cleanout."

I'm beyond humiliated.

Two sets of hands undo my restraints as Ryder and Jake flip me over, on to my stomach, then pull me up onto all fours.

Gavin is at the counter, doing something. He turns, walking back toward me. He's pushing an IV pole, from which hangs a bulging bag with tubing coming from it.

"Have you ever had an enema, baby?"

An enema? I shake my head as I start to move, trying to get- anywhere. Off this table. Out of this room. Anywhere.

Jake and Ryder hold me in place. Gavin parts my cheeks again. I feel something hard at my back hole.

"This nozzle isn't much bigger than my fingers, baby. You can take it." He pushes it into me. I clench, trying to keep it out, but it keeps pushing forward, deeper and deeper into me.

It feels much bigger than his fingers.

Tears are running down my cheeks as he gives it a final shove. I feel a pop, then it slides into place. I can't push it out.

I hear Ryder's voice. "Give her a few to remind her to hold still."

A few what?

My confusion is short lived as the dreaded strap comes down on my ass again. My bottom is still sore from earlier, and my position stretches my skin out, making it more sensitive, somehow.

Gavin lays few strokes on my vulnerable thighs, harder than before. I cry out, begging, and then it stops.

I'm relieved for a few seconds. Then I hear a click, and water starts to rush inside me. It doesn't feel bad, just strange. As the water continues to run into me, I start to feel full. Too full. I start to whimper.

Someone- Jake? Ryder?- has their hand under me now, teasing my clit. I start to shake. It's too much.

I can feel an orgasm starting, growing.

No.

I try to move, to escape the hand that's driving me toward a climax, but they hold me in place.

I try to stop it, but it's too strong. The orgasm rips through me, my ass clenching around the nozzle. I grit my teeth to stay silent, hoping to hide my reaction, but it's too late.

One of the lets out a dark, low chuckle. "Think she liked that. This one has potential."

My face heats.

Gavin pulls the nozzle out of my bottom. I clench, trying to keep the water inside. The men help me off the table, over to a door on the side of the room that I didn't see before. The door opens to reveal a closet-sized room with a toilet. They maneuver me into the room, settle me on the toilet.

I will them to leave, to let me release the enema in private.

Jake and Gavin disappear, leaving only Ryder. He stands in front of me, his arms crossed. He nods at me. "You can release now, baby."

The urge is so strong. I close my eyes to block him out and let it go.

Finally I'm empty, spent. He gathers me in his arms, carries me back to the table. I'm too exhausted to fight this time. He parts my legs, pushing my knees up toward my chest. I feel something warm and wet wipe over my slit, my ass, cleaning me.

He pulls me up in his arms again and carries me out of the room.

I'm practically asleep before he lays me back in my bed.