This work is a sequel to one of my stories, The Machine. Read that for more context, though this should stand alone.
I wake up, on my knees. I'm immobilised, my ankles cuffed, hands bound behind my back. I'm in some sort of large bedroom, except this isn't a normal bedroom. It's packed with devices and sexual objects, complex restraints and drawers packed with all sorts. I try not to think too much about them, nor about the restraints already occupied. The woman dangling from a hook, or the woman pressed up against a wall, shackled into an X position and gagged whilst a machine relentlessly fucks her, or the man standing to attention with his hands chained together over his head, his cock concealed. I try to ignore them. Or that they all wear collars, and nothing else.
I can't escape, I know that. My binds are too strong. I also know this is a simulation, all fake, to train me. So escape is impossible, at best I just wake up in my pod and get put back in.
But I also don't feel right. I'm starving, impossibly so, as if I haven't had a single bite to eat in weeks. I'm fresh awake, my mind painfully clear. My tongue feels strange, and I quickly determine it's been pierced, but also that other changes have happened. My spine has a subtle coolness to it that's strange, and I realise my sensitivity across my entire body has improved. Not that I appreciate being able to really feel every bit of texture in the metal band around my wrists, or my ankles. My breasts have also grown, but looking down I can see my tattoo remains. P13-F-49999. A few hours ago I was Vanessa, off to my new life, now I am a stupid stupid slave, tricked into this, my existence reduced to a code.
There are more piercings I can feel across me. My nose, my ears, my breasts... I have been redesigned according to my new owner's will, and there isn't a thing I can do about it. My brown hair is a half shave, left shaved, right long and luscious, stretching to my breasts.
Mindy, my sister, is to my left side, a few feet away. By looking at her nude and bound form, I can work out more about my predicament. She is half shaved, though the sides are swapped. Her spine is clearly metallic, lights embedded that softly twinkle and glow in a variety of colours.
"Mindy? Mindy, wake up, please."
"Ven?" Mindy murmured, stirring. She quickly figures out she's shackled, and tries to free herself, but the restraints are just as secure on her. "Ven, what's happening?"
She looks at me, and her face fills with fear. It's terrifying to see your sister and know she just reflects your exact predicament, just as helpless as you. She has a ring through her nose now, studs on her face where I can feel my own. We are both trapped and helpless. We are both remade as our owner demands.
"I don't know. I just was in that pod, and-"
"It said something about training. I guess this is some sort of simulation, right?"
"Yeah. I don't know how to get out. Are you starving too?"
"Yeah. You have it too? It can't be real, right? We were just in our pods... what if something broke, and we're going to starve to death?"
"No, no, I'm sure it'll be okay. They wouldn't let that happen to us."
Because they need us as slaves, not as dead bodies
, I think to myself.
I look around the room again, trying to put the image of my enslaved sister out of my mind. The other occupants all wear collars, unlike us, which is strange. They are mostly chained up, or hooked, or otherwise restrained, with the exception being 2 men, 2 women, stood at attention. All of those wear sharp uniforms, looking like expensive hotel staff. Their collars are subtler, and I realise these are effectively maids and servants, for non-sexual needs. But they still have collars.
It finally hits me just what a position I am in. Me and my sister are slaves, trapped here at our owner's whim. We're going to be tortured, brainwashed, abused, until we are just like these people: silent and utterly obedient. I began to cry, softly, so Mindy won't notice.
We kneel in silence, nothing else to say, tears streaking my face, for what must have been ten minutes or so. Then the door opens, and our owner enters.
He is a tall man, perhaps approaching 7 foot, with blazing violet eyes, dressed in expensive flowing robes. Tightly managed brown hair, perfectly sculpted features, as if this man was the embodiment of an Old Earth god that had descended. It was as if the computer has reached inside my head and created the perfect man for me. I hazily consider the possibility things have gone the other way around.
Behind him, I could see a dozen female slaves, a far more eye catching variety of dress. Some wear large posture collars, locking their heads in place as they march with trays suspended from their harness below their breasts. Others wear slimmer gem-studded collars and dresses, elaborate and beautiful yet highly revealing ones. One, a tanned girl with twin bright blue braids, is entirely nude except for her collar and thigh high blue leggings, her braids draped across her tattooed breasts. I felt a slight twinge throught my body as I stare at her, before I clamp down on those feelings. I can't let myself get horny at the thought of being enslaved like that.
Once inside the room, they disperse to a semicircle around the man. They stand perfectly still and silent, and I know I am staring at my future, and Mindy's future.
"Well, hello to my newest pair of slaves."The man speaks, walking up close to me.
"Please, sir. Let us go. We won't do anything." I speak first, my eyes stained with tears. I know it won't work, this simulation wouldn't allow me to talk my way out. But I need to feel as if I'd tried. I can't just surrender to slavery.
"Please sir." Mindy added, throwing her own litany of begged demands.
"I don't want to serve you, I just want to go home, I want my sister to be okay, just please le-" Agony cuts me off, as I scream in pain. Mindy is screaming too, as my body courses with unimaginable pain. Every inch is agonising fire, worse than the torment the factory has already inflicted. Then it stops, and I'm left to gasp for air.
"That, slaves, is the punishment I can grant you. I can punish you both, or individually, as long as I like. Disobey me, and I will not hesitate to punish you." My owner nods towards one of the waiting slaves, whose tray has a whip resting atop it. "Of course, I have other means of inflicting pain, and we will explore them as part of your training. Slaves learn to appreciate pain just as much as pleasure."
"Speaking of, I can also grant you pleasure. As I wish, the vibrator you both rest on can be activated. Trust me, as we keep going, you will be more and more willing to receive it. I will allow you such pleasure if I feel you have behaved above and beyond simple obedience. And no, unlike the punishment, I will not let you sample it first."
He paces over to one trayslave, taking a drink from her tray and downing it.
"I am going to train you. I am a facsimile of your future owner, and I will train you to obey fully. You slaves are to think of me as your owner, as it will serve you well. Remember my face, and understand it is this face that will dominate the entire remainder of your lives."
I don't want to believe it. I want to resist, however I can. He just fixes me with a glare, and smiles.
"I can read your every thought here. You think you can outlast training? You will be here for many months. Then you get shipped to your real owner, where you will live for the rest of your life. A collar around your neck, in the heart of the Empire. No hope of escape, a lifetime as property. You can't hold out, and you can never escape. We will get decades of service out of a prime slut like you, so it's best for all concerned if you skip the charade and go straight to the surrender."
He's reading me effortlessly. My entire body is on display for him and so too, apparently, is my mind. It makes sense, I guess, that if they can make this all feel so real, they must be reaching into my brain already, feeding it just the right things. Why wouldn't they be able to read it too, predict my every strategy of resistance? Is that why Mindy is also here, so that-
"So you may both witness the other surrender, yes. Understand, Slave, that there is no situation in which you are delivered as anything but obedient property."
I'd like to believe it's a lie. The easiest way to trick someone into giving up is to convince them it makes no difference, right? So if you don't, you can prove them wrong, and that's how you win. But I am trapped, and so too is the person I care most about. And for all I know, it really is pointless, because if they can read my mind and put me here, maybe they can reach in, change a few things, turn me into a cock-hungry whore without me even fighting.
"Some ground rules. Your old names are gone. You are slave 0, and you are slave 99." He points to me as he says slave 99, though it is no surprise given it is the final two digits of the number tattooed upon my breast. "Don't worry, these are not about importance. Both of you will receive equal attention. You will earn new names, eventually."
He looks directly at me.
"What is your name?"
"S-s-slave 99." I respond. I don't want to submit, to surrender, but I have the sense to recognise when I should play along. It doesn't matter. I am racked with pain again, causing me to yelp. Then it recedes.
"You must always address me as Master. Try again."
"My name is slave 99, Master." I try again, and I am punished again.
"You have no right to use personal pronouns, not until granted. You will refer to yourself as 'this slave', or 'this slut', or likewise. Understood?"
"This slave understands, Master." I grit my teeth immediately after finishing, preparing for a fresh punishment for some new fault. Instead, mercifully, Master turns his attention to Mindy.
"And you, slave?"
