At first you did it simply as a joke….it means nothing, right? …but then you find yourself doing it more and more often…because it feels so good to just empty your mind and do as you are told… Now you are hooked…becoming the mindless drooling bimbo you once despised…becoming OWNED
“Ugh,shit—“ the screen in front of you froze and glitched as your cursor turned into a spinning wheel of death again. You tapped the screen in frustration. “Stupid fuckin-“
Ding!
You blinked, interrupted in your anger, and searched for the source of the sound. You found your way to the files, scrolling down. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary…
Until you hit the bottom. A folder, highlighted, called “Good_Girls.exe”. You cocked an eyebrow. “I am not about to open porn on this thing…” and you right clicked to delete. But the button wasn’t there—you couldn’t delete it. You frowned, and sighed before opening the folder and looking around inside.
…there was only a text file. It didn’t seem to be too big judging by the number next to it, and it was unlikely it was a bomb, right..? You sighed and hesitantly opened it up.
This looks bad, I know.
But I promise nothing bad’s going to happen.
(“Yeah, right,” you thought.)
Everything’s alright now. You just need to keep reading, and it’ll all make sense.
If the screen feels like its glowing, don’t look away from these words.
If you hear a nice, warm buzzing, don’t look away from these words.
Good girls keep reading, and you’re a very good girl.
(“…” the letter was skeevy, sure, but something about it…interested you, yeah. It was just sort of intriguing. And even if it was a virus, it made your monitor glow pretty colors in the otherwise dark room. So you kept reading.)
Such a good girl, reading these words and following nice words and orders. You can just relax back into your chair and let everything relax.
Your day of hard work is over.
This is to help you relax, like a good girl. You’ve worked so hard, been so, so tense…a good girl like you deserves a bit of relaxation.
Don’t you agree?
(…you absently nodded into the softly glowing screen and the nice words. For some reason, it felt nice to agree. It felt nice to relax. You felt your body sink bonelessly back into your chair, a sigh escaping you. A warm feeling pooled in the pit of your stomach. You felt yourself smile. You couldn’t stop reading. Every “good girl” only made the warmth grow, pulsing through your entire body.)
Such a good girl, letting go of all those silly thoughts and stresses, sinking back, deep into relaxation and pleasure. You crave it, like a very good girl does. No one’s watching, good girl. You can just relax and pleasure yourself, like a very, very good girl.
And very good girls like you can put on the headphones that might be beside you and listen closely.
(…through muzzy, sticky thoughts, you wondered happily how the nice good words knew you had headphones. But you were being a good girl, so you didn’t need to worry about it. You took the headphones and slid them on, sighing once more as a hand slipped down your shorts, rubbing between your legs and sighing happily, leaning back more in your chair.)
Once on, the headphones buzzed out any remaining thoughts with throbbing white noise, voices overlayed chanting “Good girl! Good girl~!” over and over with soft, loving voices.
You don’t need to think. You need to relax and pleasure yourself and be a good girl.
Rub those silly thoughts away like you know you need to, so you can make room for being a very good girl.
The good girls in your mind are making you a good girl just like them.
Good girls make more good girls.
Good girls rub themselves silly.
Good girls rub their minds to sleep.
Good girls obey pretty colors and pretty words. And aren’t you a very, very good girl?
(“I’mm…a g-ggood girrll…” you drawled with a smile, eyes rolling up as you approached orgasm.
…with the headphones on, you didn’t hear the door unlock behind you.)
(Part 4 of the requested series by @leolover721. Maledom, gangbang, gags, slave training, mind break)
My life had completely changed from what it had been. I was kept bound or chained, my body a tapestry of welts and bruises. I lost track of time, exhaustion dragging me into unconsciousness on a daily basis.
There were no windows, and there were no clocks. It could have been days, weeks, or even months since Master first took me.
Some sessions Master trained me. How to crawl, how to endure pain and beg for more. Posture, posing and walking to emphasize my body’s sexuality. Some sessions Mistress came over. She trained me in controlling my orgasms, edging me for hours, sometimes what felt like days. Sometimes it was the machines, building my endurance, increasing my sensitivity. Some days I was simply made to kneel, silent and still while Master kept busy.
Obedience was praised, and rewarded. Sometimes it was simply a gentle touch. Sometimes I was rewarded with food. Sometimes I was allowed an orgasm. Sometimes my reward was an extra hour of sleep.
I did my absolute best to be an obedient fuckmeat, but Master kept raising the goals. Pushing me further and further, harder and harder. If I couldn’t make him cum with my mouth within the time frame he demanded, I was punished. I deserved it. Master was only trying to improve me. He told me so. The disappointment in his eyes hurt just as much as my punishments.
My body was his toy, my holes his property. My tits and ass his target practice. After I failed, Master always made me try again until I was able to satisfy his demands. I danced for him, rubbing and stroking. I fucked and rode him, passively letting him fuck my tits, throat, pussy, even my ass. Master realized how scared I was of taking cock in the ass at first. I would always squeal and scream, but after a few minutes I always found myself pushing back into him, craving more.
He degraded and humiliated me, taking pictures and laughing as I laid there gasping for breath, my body dripping sweat and cum.
Fuckpig. Slut. Cocksleeve. Useless trash. Stupid cunt. He made me call myself Master’s little Facecunt. He had me refer to myself as ‘holes’. I was forced to admit to him that my only value came from my cunt, ass, mouth and tits. He made me suck him while he watched porn, saying I wasn’t worth looking at.
I hated it, but every time I degraded myself for his pleasure, I could feel the wetness between my legs grow. The part of me that delighted in his mistreatment grew stronger and stronger, and I found I kept referring to myself as fuckmeat. Facecunt. Fuckpig.
He made me beg. Plead. Every degrading forced orgasm was accompanied by a wail of gratitude as I thanked him for the gift of pleasure. Every night I was caged or bound, kept helpless. Every time I woke I was subjected to a new lesson, or new training.
My days were filled with humiliation, sex, abuse, pain, degradation and submission. It was becoming second nature to slip into subspace every time my eyes caught a glimpse of cock, real or not. He was breaking me and a growing part of me loved it.
Master finally let me out of the place he had kept me, binding my wrists with ropes, stuffing the ring-gag into my mouth. The cloth covered my nose and mouth, but I didn’t struggle. Master wanted fuckmeat to sleep, so I obeyed and slept.
When I woke, Master half lifted me out of the van and he grabbed my arm, pulling me across broken and cracked concrete. There was a group of men under an overpass. They looked to be about my age, and I counted at least eight of them, maybe more.
Master led me right in front of them before turning to face me. His hands tore open the thin fabric of my shirt, letting my tits bounce free.
“Fuckmeat will entertain. If they want to fuck It, they will fuck It. If they want fuckmeat to suck, It will suck. If they want It to hurt, fuckmeat will suffer.”
I lowered my eyes and thrust out my chest obediently, giving the group of men the show that I knew Master wanted. Master unzipped my skirt, letting it fall to the ground, showing the gathering of men my lack of underwear.
“Rules for the game, gentlemen. One, no permanent marks or damage. Fuckmeat’s holes will be for rent once I’m done training It, and I will not accept a reduction in the value brought by It’s holes.”
My face flushed as my pussy started to drip as he casually degraded me. I fought to keep from rubbing my thighs together at the thought of being rented out.
“Each man has a different color marker. Each time you cum inside or on fuckmeat, make your mark. The first to ten will get a free weekend with fuckmeat to use any way you see fit. Enjoy.”
Master shoved me into the group of men, and I stumbled, tripping over the skirt still puddled around my ankles. Before I could scream, hands grabbed at my body, tearing my ripped blouse away in seconds. A hand gripped my throat and I gasped for air as rough fingers slid inside me. They groped and squeezed, I felt like I was being buried in groping, pinching hands.
“Check it out. The little slut is already dripping wet.”
I blushed as they laughed, and hands on my shoulders pushed me to my knees. The gag kept my mouth pried open, and immediately it was filled with a thick, pulsing cock. My wrists were untied, and my fingers were wrapped around another pair of pulsating rods.
I squirmed, heat suffusing my body as they grabbed my hair, shoving me down until my nose was crushed against their stomachs. I was pulled back, allowed a single breath and then shoved facefirst down onto a different cock.
They buried themselves in my throat, one after the other, until one decided he wanted more. Hands gripped my hips, pulling me to my feet. A heavy slap rocked my head around, and I gasped. Fingers pinched my nipples and a heavy hand slapped upwards, spanking my pussy. A hand gripped my hip, and another pushed between my shoulders, bending me in half.
One of them pushed from behind me, and I moaned like a whore when I felt him slide inside me. A hand lifted my head, and I felt and heard spit smack me in the face. Uncaring fingers smeared it over me, and the hand in my hair turned, allowing another man to deliver two heavy slaps to my face, making my head ring.
Then I was pulled down, the man leaning over me as he shoved me down on his cock. I shook and flailed, desperate for breath, but I couldn’t fight so many men. They held me and restrained me, yanking me free just as the darkness began to nibble at my vision.
Thick trails of spit and slime splattered my bare chest as I gasped, panting for breath before I was buried in yet another man’s stomach. Stinging spankings burned on my ass, and the man fucking me from behind jackhammered into my wet, needy pussy.
My throat bulged, a cock buried halfway to my collarbone as I came, squealing with bliss as I felt him paint my insides white. He was replaced in an instant by another man, and I felt wet saliva splat between the curves of my ass moments before he pushed hard, plunging deep into my backdoor.
My hands stroked, my tongue fluttered, my lips sucked, my hips shook. I couldn’t keep up with them. Another man groaned, and I coughed and choked as he filled my throat, not letting me pull free until I swallowed everything he had to give.
Another smack made my head ring, and one of the men began slapping fuckmeat’s cunt. Fuckmeat was so horny. She loved it. She needed it. Fuckmeat wanted cock. She needed cock. Fuckmeat wanted to CUM FOR COCKS!!!
My mind broke and afterwards I never quite remembered everything that happened. Little flashes, tiny moments. Half remembered scenes from a movie. I remember hands under my thighs lifting me then dropping me, gravity impaling my holes onto a pair of cocks, my nails dragging across their skin as I came. I remember begging them to cum inside me. I remember straddling one of them, another using my hair as reins while he rode my ass. I remember the slamming impacts as I bounced back and forth like a tennis ball, cocks buried in my cunt and mouth.
I remember one of the men fucking my tits while another spanked my pussy, my head bent backwards over the concrete edge as I lay on my back. I remember diving onto cocks, one after another, barely pulling free from one before eagerly lunging onto the next.
I remember the insatiable need for more, even as I screamed in orgasm, my overflowing pussy dripping white liquid, pearly fluid rolling down my legs.
When Master woke me, I was aching and sore everywhere. My ass was covered in their drying seed. My legs were caked with thick layers. My face and hair were stiff, painted with so much of their cum, my face was hidden by it. My tits were red and bruised, my chest and throat caked with the evidence of their pleasure.
My entire body was marked with multicolored lines, a humiliating tally that gave proof to my existence and purpose as a piece of fuckmeat.
Ten men. Seventy seven tally marks. Four hours.
Master spoke to one of the men, and both were smiling. I smiled too, knowing Master was happy. I had pleased him. Master wrote something down and handed it to him, then turned towards me, a hose in his hand. The spray was cold, and I shivered violently, my teeth chattering.
Master dragged me to his van and I barely managed to climb inside. He told me to lay me down in the back, my wet hair plastering itself to my skin and Mistresses leg. I didn’t even know she’d been there, watching me the entire time. She stroked my hair, and told fuckmeat It had done well. Master and Mistress were pleased at how well fuckmeat had behaved, how obedient It had become.
I fell asleep there, content and happy as Master drove me back towards his home and fuckmeat’s cage.
To some girls it comes naturally, others have to practice looking like they want to be bent over and taken right then and there, bent over and pounded raw and rough in any hole you want. They spend hours in the mirror perfecting their “fuckmeeyes” and thank god.
