Diane
7. Slave Training: Day Six
"You're quite a disappointment, slave", the mistress told Diane. Diane was
laying strapped to a low bench, the same one on which she had seen a tortured
corpse when she was brought to the dungeon. "You're such a weak, cowardly,
little wuss, you can't even stand on your own two feet". The aforesaid feet
were horribly discolored and swollen to several sizes above their normal size.
"If you can't even do that, you aren't worth much to us. I'm sure you remember
this bench", she said as she squatted by Diane's head. She took a fluid filled
jar from under the bench and took some leather cords from the jar. As she
dragged the wet cords across Diane's face, she said "I'm sure you remember
these, too. Oh, they're not the same one's you saw on the other girl, we don't
use the same strips twice that way. These are nice new strips of raw leather
which we've kept good and moist, so that when we tie them about someone" she
said as she wrapped them about Diane's neck, "they constrict to the maximum
possible amount. They're so wet" - she tied them in place - "that it takes them
a long time to dry out and begin to constrict, and then they oh so slowly close
on you. We use nice thin strips for cutting; they'll cut a man's joystick right
off. Wider strips like these constrict the flow of blood, or air. If they should
happen to be placed on, oh, say, a woman's neck" - she ran her fingers over
Diane's neck above the taut cords - "and left on, well, she turns so many nice
colors, and her tongue sticks out - I do so like that part - and her eyes pop
out of her head, and then... well, I see you remember what comes next. Training
accidents do happen, you know. And when they do, we regard it as suicide by the
trainee, who obviously didn't try hard enough to survive. Do you remember what
that means in your case ?" Diane quickly nodded. "Good. I do so like that
look of abject terror, I've missed it the last couple days. So nice to see you
can still be so frightened. One's never so alive as when one is truly afraid,
and when you can't be scared anymore you're just an empty shell. So nice to see
you're still with us, slave. I hope it stays that way a little longer. That
depends on you". With that she rose a strode out of the dungeon, timing the
remote controlled opening of both sets of doors so smoothly that she didn't need
to break stride. This required, of course, a slow stride, and if it happened to
involve a considerable rotation of her hips, so much the better.
It was hard to judge the passage of time in the dungeon. There were no windows
so far underground and the lighting only changed when they wanted to hurt one's
eyes or burn one's skin. There were a few hourglasses and other timers used to
heighten a slave's anticipation of some dread occurrence, but none of these were
in use. Diane had no way of telling how long it was before she felt the first
constriction about her throat, though it would have been difficult to be certain
which feeling was real, she had sensed or imagined the constriction so many
times before it became unmistakable. After that the tightening was slow but
inexorable. As it began to interrupt her breathing Diane had the repeated urge
to cough but the first cough hurt so much she suppressed the impulse. She
reflexively struggled against the straps though she knew that she wouldn't be
able to move them even a fraction of an inch. Time seemed to have changed so
that it simultaneously appeared that the cords had gone from taut to strangling
in no time at all, and that an eternity of suffering was experienced while that
happened. As predicted Diane's tongue pushed out of her mouth, and the skin of
her face seemed to be stretched tight.
The mistress appeared above her unexpectedly. In her distress Diane could hear
little besides the pounding of her own blood. The mistress was nude but for a
leather corset and a belt for her toys and tools. She straddled Diane's head
and lowered herself to Diane's mouth and said "Lick me, slave". Diane tried but
could barely move her swollen tongue. The mistress spread her own labia and
ordered "Lick my clit. One good lick. C'mon, slave, one good lick and you can
breath again. One good lick and you survive. That's it, go for it girl. That
wasn't a good lick. One good lick and you live. One good one and THEY live.
Good, move that fat tongue, good slave. Was that so hard ?". The mistress
stepped off her, and clipped the cords with a powerful pair of shears. Diane
was lightheaded and blood rushed to her head and she sucked air through her sore
throat as fast as she possibly could. The mistress sat fingering herself as she
waited for Diane to return to relative normality. When she had, her trainer
said, "So you see, slave, you can do what you need to. That cord is just as much
around your neck now as it was a few minutes ago. If you don't perform, it will
crush the life out of you. We're going to complete all aspects of your
training, and you WILL do what you have for that to be accomplished".
"Since you aren't good for much today, we'll have a couple graduates of our
program - I'll have them show you where their clits used to be - come here and
help you with your hygiene. Few people like leg and underarm hair, but if a
slave is in chains for a week or so, there's not much she can do about it.
They'll bring some tweezers and electrolysis kits and get rid of that hair for
you. They should finish today; they've learned to work pretty fast getting all
the bodyhair off men, and they totally ignore your discomfort. Neither you nor
they will be gagged, but the microphones in here can pick up a mouse fart, so
anything you say will be recorded and we'll check this time period to see if one
word passes between you - yes, slave, it's always running, we've recorded your
prayers - they haven't done any good, now have they ? How presumptuous of you to
think that God cares that you're here suffering ? Did you think he didn't
already know, and would send an angel to harrow the space above you and pull you
out of here as soon as you informed him ? Don't you know pride is a sin ? Ah,
where was I, oh yes, don't speak to them. We will punish both you and them if a
single word is exchanged". She turned to leave, then turned back, "Some day I
must play back the things you say at night when you're asleep. The surveillance
tapes always found your bedroom a most quiet place, so this talking in your
sleep is a new habit. You say such sweet, touching things; we play the tapes
and just sit around and laugh till we have to find a slave to piss on".
