Chapter One: A Celebration.
The Royal George pub was becoming packed as the clock ticked past eleven fifteen. I had just turned twenty one a couple of weeks ago but tonight we were celebrating the twenty-first birthday of my best friend. Dakota and I had been close for a couple of years and we always had fun together despite the vast differences in our personalities. She was a beautiful flirty extrovert with a toned body, enviably large breasts and long wavy blonde hair who was spoiled rotten by her wealthy father. She was always popular and knew just how to tease and get the attention of any guy who dared to glance in her direction. As was usually the case, she had two gorgeous guys competing for her attention but whether either of them would actually end the night between her tanned legs was a question that only Dakota could answer.
I’ve been told many times that I’m very attractive despite being an introvert who prefers the corner to the spotlight; it was never something I took seriously. I always figured people were just complimenting me to be polite or because they were desperate to have sex and I was the closest available option. Don’t get me wrong, I always took care to put myself together properly, ensuring that my long dark hair looked good and my makeup was flawless. As such, it’s likely that my perspective on the matter was an issue of self confidence rather than a reality of how striking others found me.
Like my best friend, I too have a slim body as I spend an inordinate amount of time running, doing yoga and being active in general but Dakota always made me a little self conscious about my boobs given that mine were only 32b. She stood tall at five foot eight while I on the other hand was a mere five foot two and just under a hundred pounds. A scrawny little thing as one disgruntled boyfriend described me just before breaking it off in favor of a tall redhead with abundant cleavage.
As I finished off the rum and coke that I had been nursing with disinterest all evening, I felt Dakota poke the soft skin of my upper arm with two of her fingers to get my attention. She pointed at a slightly overweight fellow with thick glasses, clown-like curly orange hair and a cartoonish orange mustache and beard who was standing by himself at the end of the bar. “I think he likes you Kristin,” she said teasingly. “He’s been checking you out all night. Maybe he can be your boyfriend.”
I rolled my crystal blue eyes and brushed a strand of my long black brown hair from my shapely face. “Don’t be a bitch Dakota,” I replied. “He might be a really nice guy for all you know.”
“Then why don’t you invite him over? Better yet I’ll do it for you.”
She started to raise her small perfectly manicured hand to wave at the creepy looking bar patron and I moved quickly to bat it down hard, her bright red fingernails smacking into the table in front of us. “He’s not my type” I glared at her.
“See, you’re just as stuck up as me, but at least I’m honest about it.”
“Yeah, whatever Dakota,” I shot back, not in the mood for her games. “Why don’t you go back to the Brad Pitt twins over there?” A suggestion that she took up surprisingly quickly; perhaps indicating a strong desire to escape from the awkward turn our conversation had taken.
I began to stir the half melted ice cubes in my glass with one slim finger as I quietly observed the goings on in the crowded venue. One of Dakota’s suitors looked like a personal trainer and displayed numerous tattoos including one of a beautiful mermaid on his upper arm and was gradually edging closer to her, clearly trying to make his move. Suddenly I felt a warm hand on the silky skin of my exposed shoulder blade. I quickly spun around to find the creepy guy from the bar standing next to me holding two glasses which looked suspiciously identical to the drink I had just completed. The nervous shaking of his hands caused the bubbly brown liquid to slosh about within the confines of their translucent containers as he hesitantly cleared his throat before speaking. “Hi, you’re pretty,” was all he could muster in a weak, almost goofy sounding voice.
“Um, thanks,” I said with a nod and turned my gaze back to Dakota, hoping he would get the hint and magically disappear. No such luck.
“I hope you don’t mind, I saw that your glass was empty and I asked the bartender what you were drinking so I brought you another one.”
I spun back around in my seat to find him holding a glass out for me. He looked kind of sad and pathetic, like a lost puppy that had been kicked in the head one too many times. Dakota surely would have told him to go fuck himself but I was never that kind of girl. I felt bad for him so I accepted his drink. “Thanks, that was nice of you.”
We raised our glasses in a half hearted toast and he started talking about something that I didn’t quite catch. Between the raucous noise in the bar, his meek voice and the fact that I frankly didn’t care one bit about anything he had to say, I only picked up about one out of every three words. I took small sips of my drink and gave a nod and the occasional smile of my perfect white teeth while simultaneously attempting to avoid eye contact lest I send the wrong message that I might actually be interested in him.
The interaction went on far longer than I would have liked. He would babble on about computers or his mother or other nonsense that seemed stereotypical for a person matching his de***********ion. I caught him staring at the fraudulent display of cleavage created by my push up bra or at the smooth toned legs that were visible from the mid thigh hem of the fashionable black leather skirt to the black high heel sandals that encased my delicate feet. It was getting late and I was starting to feel really tired, a condition that didn’t entirely surprise me, for I had awoken extra early for a sunrise yoga class and the reduced sleep time coupled with what must have been too much alcohol was surely catching up to me.
I leaned over to Dakota and pressed my soft red lips to her delicate ear. “I’m getting pretty tired; do you think we can get out of here soon?”
She turned her head and I felt her warm breath on my skin as she pressed her mouth to my ear. “It’s my birthday party pooper and I’m having too much fun. Stick around a little longer. Please Kristin?”
My eyelids were getting heavy and I had no interest in sticking it out for another hour or two. I moved my lips back to her ear, brushing them slightly against the silver earrings that dangled from her soft lobe and practically shouted “I’m just gonna get an Uber then. I’ll see you tomorrow and happy birthday!”
She flashed a faultless white smile in my direction and nodded before dismissing me and returning her attention back to her supermodel suitors. I pulled out my phone and ordered an Uber before turning back towards the portly fellow to my left who was still jabbering on regarding something that he was clearly passionate about. I carefully stood up and grabbed my clutch before saying to him “Hey thanks for the drink, you’re a cool guy and all but my boyfriend just texted me so I gotta get going.”
I squeezed past him, trying at all costs to avoid touching the creepy guy and headed toward the exit. As I started walking I felt myself wobble on my high heels and the room began to sway. I must have had more to drink than I thought. I worked hard to keep my focus. I strode one careful step at a time, one foot in front of the other until I was out on the sidewalk. A black SUV with a sign in the window that read UBER pulled up just as I reached the curb. Suddenly my world started to spin and I felt myself falling. I expected to hit the pavement but someone caught me. Everything was so blurry that I could barely see yet I could hear the door to the car open and I was helped inside. There was an exchange of male voices but I couldn’t focus on anything. “Hey, is she okay?”
“She’s just had too much to drink,” responded the other voice.
“If she throws up in my car I’m going to charge you a cleaning fee,” replied the first voice.
Then everything went black and I fell into what seemed like a deep sleep.
Chapter Two: Awake.
My bright blue eyes blinked open to a sea of faded lime green shag carpet that my face was firmly pressed into. My head was pounding, my throat was parched as if it was filled with cotton and I felt like I was in a mental fog. I was unable to think clearly or focus on anything in front of me as I licked my dry lips with my tongue hoping to coat them with some saliva but there was little to be found. As I moved to sit up, I heard a loud rattling of metal and felt a tug of something on my neck. My hands instinctively slid up and I felt something that was leather and metal wrapped tightly around my slender throat. My fingers traced the thick heavy silver chain that was secured to my collar with a large padlock and my eyes followed it to a metal loop that protruded from a concrete pillar. I was a prisoner!
My heart began to pound wildly as panic set in. I quickly looked down to discover that I still had on all my clothes. “At least whoever is holding me captive hasn’t raped me, not yet anyway,” I thought to myself with some degree of relief while still drawing shallow panting panicked breaths. My bright blue eyes darted around the room looking for clues. No windows, one door, no decor. On the wall was a large blank whiteboard with a flat screen television next to it. I was about to call out for help when I heard a creepy familiar voice behind me.
“Looks like you’re awake my dear; I trust you had a lovely sleep.” My head spun around to see a man I didn’t recognize. He seemed to be in his forties with a dark receding hairline and a clean shaven face; he was also overweight and generally not particularly attractive at all. There was something strangely familiar about him though and as I blinked several times to sharpen the focus of my vision, the most logical answer popped into my fog filled brain. This was the creepy orange haired guy from the bar, but now he looked so different.
“Where am I and what the fuck did you do?” I screamed at him with a hoarse voice and all of the energy I could muster. I stood up on weak wobbly legs, pulled hard on the robust chain that held me captive and yelled “let me go you fucking creep!”
The spider’s lips curled in a devious little smile as he watched me struggle like a fly in his web. He calmly lifted his smart phone and with a single chubby finger pressed the screen. Instantly I felt blinding pain. My muscles went weak and I flopped to the ground, writhing around like a fish out of water, gulping for air. I couldn’t see straight, I couldn’t breathe; my entire world was nothing but pain and suffering. After what seemed like a lifetime the buzzing of the collar ceased and the pain slowly dissipated. A combination of tears and drool coated the soft cheeks of my face as I tried desperately to catch my breath, panting in rapid bursts not unlike a dog as my face was once again buried in the lime green shag carpet.
“That was setting number three for five seconds,” he said as he strode across the room to the whiteboard. Your collar can go up to level twenty for as long as I like, though I suspect if I did that it would surely fry your brain and you would probably bite your own tongue off. Ending up a vegetable or dead is pretty much guaranteed if you force me to punish you long and hard enough. You would do well to behave yourself,” he said in a calm, even tone. My wicked captor approached the whiteboard, lifted a black marker from the attached tray and began to write on the slick white surface. “If you will allow me, I’m certain that many of your questions will be answered, but you must stay calm. You don’t want to experience level four, do you?”
I said nothing, trying to figure out what he was writing but his large body was blocking the board. I was still shaking from a combination of the shock that I just experienced and my own nerves which had reduced me to a literal drooling mess. My muscles still weren’t working quite right and in the absence of being able to move effectively, I just laid still and curled up into a fetal ball. After a long minute he finally stepped to the side and turned toward me so that I could clearly read what he wrote.
Rules for the Cunt
1. The Cunt will never speak unless spoken to.
“You are the Cunt, these are your rules,” he said in a straightforward manner. “I expect you to obey these rules completely.”
I let out an audible gasp and sat up. Anger coursed through my veins yet again and I forgot all about the devious instrument that was locked to my neck. “I am not a cunt you asshole!” I shouted. “My name is Kristin Kailey and fuck you and fuck your stupid rules!” Before the final words escaped my pouty lips another shock engulfed my being, this one considerably worse and for a significantly longer period of time than the previous demonstration. Once again I found myself writhing out of control on the floor, excruciating pain that felt as if my brain was on fire and tears streaming copiously from my blue eyes.
“Are you ready to obey rule number one, or do we need to go to level five for twenty seconds?” he said while holding his thick finger menacingly over the screen of his phone. I nodded silently while maintaining my glare at him. “Good girl. See what happens when you obey? Now tell me what rule number one is, use the exact words please.”
I sat up in silence, refusing to say a word. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction but seeing that fat digit of his hovering over the button, ready to send me into another convulsion forced me to think otherwise. I breathed out loudly through my nose and bit my lip, trying to balance my contempt for this repulsive miscreant with my desire not to have my brain fried. Finally I mustered the courage to speak and just get it over with. “The Cunt will never speak unless spoken to,” I repeated robotically.
Once again a smile crept across my captor’s lips in a display of obvious satisfaction. “Very good!” He said excitedly in the kind of over the top positive reinforcement way one might reserve for a toddler who just used the potty for the first time. “Now stand up.” I stood carefully on weak legs, balancing on the black high heels that remained strapped to my tiny feet. “Turn around, slowly please.” I adjusted my leather skirt down to properly cover my thighs before reluctantly spinning around in a circle, mindful to step over the heavy silver chain that rattled loudly with each movement as I rotated. “Now remove your clothes.”
I stood frozen. I wasn’t sure what was going on when I woke up still clothed but now the ugly truth had revealed itself. He was indeed a pervert who was definitely going to rape me. I felt trapped like a deer in headlights, motionless while my brain tried desperately to figure out a way around this. I could feel my heart hammering away inside me with each passing second. I heard the scoundrel exhale with a sigh and suddenly it happened again, the blinding pain that emanated from my collar and pulsed through my body. I fell hard to the floor, landing awkwardly on my shoulder before my entire body thrashed about out of control; arms and legs moving in all directions while another round of salty tears and sticky saliva mixed upon my face. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t think, and I couldn’t even move. It was easily the most painful encounter of my young life to that point and my will to endure it was being worn down faster than I could have imagined.
The creepy pervert moved back to the white board and began to write some more. “That was level five for twenty five seconds,” he said. “Next time will be level six for thirty seconds. We can keep doing this as much as you like, but I can’t guarantee that your brain will remain intact for much longer if we do.” I buried my face back in the shag carpet, the putrid smell of mold filling my nose. After another minute he stepped away from the board and I glanced up to see what it read.
Rules for the Cunt
1. The Cunt will never speak unless spoken to.
2. The Cunt will obey every command from its Master without hesitation.
“I want for you to read the rules again, exactly as they are written,” he said in a calm voice.
As I struggled to sit up, I wiped my fluids from my red, tear streaked face and took a deep breath. “One, the Cunt will never speak unless spoken to. Two, the Cunt will obey every command from its Master without hesitation.”
“Very good,” he stated. “In case you hadn’t figured it out yet, I am your Master and you are the Cunt. Once again I want you to stand up and remove all your clothing.”
I stood up slowly and carefully, teetering on my high heels and again I hesitated, unable to bring myself to comply with his alarming command. When I saw his finger sliding closer to the screen on his phone however, I quickly slid the black tank top off my shoulders, down my body and over my slender legs before unhooking my skirt and letting it slide down to my feet to join my top. I stood in my black lace bra and panties hoping that would be enough. It wasn’t. “I believe I said all of your clothing,” he declared as his finger continued to hover ominously over the phone.
I let out a deep breath, my fingers shaking wildly as I reached behind me and unhooked my frilly black push up bra, dragging the silky straps down my slender arms and blocking my firm little breasts with my upper arms as the bra fell gracefully to the floor. I stared at the man who was subjugating me, anger in my eyes and watched as he turned back to the board. A minute later I could see the newest rule.
Rules for the Cunt
1. The Cunt will never speak unless spoken to.
2. The Cunt will obey every command from its Master without hesitation.
3. The Cunt will always display its body without modesty.
“Please read rule number three please,” he ordered.
I bit my lip and fire shot out at him from my eyes as I glared with hate. “The Cunt will always display its body without modesty,” I muttered.
“Louder please. Say it like your life depends on it, because it does.”
“The Cunt will always display its body without modesty,” I said, increasing my volume and letting the fury escape through my voice.
“That means you will never cover yourself. You will always display yourself as openly as possible. Is that understood or would you enjoy another punishment?” I quietly nodded and my arms moved from their position covering my small firm breasts, exposing them completely to this pervert. He waved his hand in my direction indicating that I was to continue.
I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my black lace panties and moved them down my well developed legs to my dainty feet where I warily bent over and stepped out of all of the clothing that had accumulated on the worn rug. I unhooked the straps of my high heels, stepped out of them and stood completely naked and vulnerable before this strange deviant. I could feel his eyes burning into my flesh and I could only hear the sounds of my heart beating like a drum inside my chest and the gentle jangling of the chain that held me captive. He twirled his hand in a circular motion and once again I rotated in a circle as he visually inspected my breasts, the neatly trimmed patch of dark hair that graced my pubic mound, my back and rear and my shapely legs.
After several revolutions he held up his hand indicating that I was to stop spinning. “There are a number of positions that you will learn, the first of which is called kneel. Go ahead and kneel please.” I bit my lip and exhaled audibly before slowly bending my legs and lowering my little body down to the floor until my knees were pressed into the ugly rug. My arms instinctively moved to cover my bare breasts and I found myself fighting to keep them firmly planted at my sides lest I experience another unbearable punishment. “When you are in kneel position the heels of your feet are to be pressed into your rear, your thighs are to be spread as wide as possible and your hands should be under your udders as if you are offering them. You will make the necessary adjustments now.”
I always hated being told what to do but I especially hated it now. Nevertheless, my logical brain as foggy as it was won the day and told me to play along as he clearly had the upper hand for the time being. I moved myself down so that my rear met my heels and spread my thighs, knowing full well that my private parts were now on full display. Finally I slid my small hands up to my firm little breasts and cupped them, holding that position. “That’s a perfect kneel position,” he said with a smile. “The Cunt should feel proud that it has pleased its Master. The Cunt will hold this position until its Master orders it into a new position or gives it permission to relax. Does the Cunt understand?”
I nodded slowly, feeling exposed and vulnerable as my delicate fingers pressed into the soft flesh of my breasts.
“I am your Master and you are the Cunt,” he continued. “Who am I? You may answer.”
I knew what answer he wanted and I hated saying it. It wasn’t true of course but if uttering the words was enough to keep the collar from shocking me again; I was willing to say it. They were just words after all. It’s not like they truly mattered. “You are my Master,” I said with a lack of enthusiasm.
“Good girl,” he replied. “And what are you?”
“I am the Cunt.”
Continued in Trapped, Trained and Twisted Pt. 02
(Thank you so much for reading my story! Please give me a good rating because this makes me feel good and be sure to leave respectful comments because I seriously adore hearing from you and seeing your thoughts.
Keep in mind that I know this story might not be for everyone. It has some pretty dark parts in it that may make some people uncomfortable, but it was written to explore the psychology and methods of this kind of transformation so if this story isn’t your cup of tea, stop reading and move on but leave the ratings to people who appreciate this kind of story.
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