Slave Training
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Slave Training free porn video
Heather was waking up from her nap, and was regretting it already. She wasn't a nap person, and was now
facing one good hour of headaches. It beat facing the full brunt of a seven-hour long flight, but for some
reason, the headache was really severe this time.
"Hmmmngh...dammit..."
She had shoulder-length dirty blonde hair and cute features marred by baggy eyes and a few freckles. She
certainly couldn't be confused for a guy, even with her tendency to wear practical male clothing, but her
body did lack any noteworthy curves. Heather was, through and through, an ordinary girl. There were times
when she regretted it, but in this moment, she just really wanted the headache to fuck off.
She winced and attempted to rub her forehead...only to realize she couldn't move her hands.
"...What the...?"
Still groggy, she opened her eyes, but saw only darkness. A jolt of fear broke the bonds of sleep, and
Heather reflexively pulled as hard as she could. Her hand moved about twenty centimeters, but then slowly
went back to its initial position, pulled by some sort of mold encasing her entire forearm. What was this
thing? Panicked, the college student pulled with all four of her limbs, to similar results. She was
sitting on something, but it sure as hell wasn't an airplane seat. More like a cushy gynecology chair.
That thought triggered a sharp sinking feeling in her heart. She realized she her legs were kept spread
open. And that she could feel the air on her skin.
"Oh...Oh God..."
She was totally naked. It was pitch black and dead silent, but Heather now knew, without a doubt, that she
was in grave danger. As a modest, unadventurous girl, she started to panic. Her breath quickened, her
small B-cup bust rose and fell, and her voice came out as a high-pitched hush.
"I've been k**napped, oh shit oh shit oh sh..."
Heather gritted her teeth. As frightening as her situation was, the last thing she wanted was to alert her
captors. She had to calm down, think of something...So she tried to focus on how this happened. Because,
seriously, what the Hell?
She was just traveling back to America with her friend Nico. Last thing she remembered was being on the
plane with her. Nico had been asleep, her short-haired brunette head resting on her shoulders. Heather's
impish friend never could stand boredom.
How could they have been a*****ed? And why? It was a trusted airplane company, neither of them were rich,
well connected or even beyond a cute-ish 6. They were nothing but thoroughly ordinary college girls...So
why would anyone want to k**nap them and strap them to a weird chair?
"N...Nico? You there?"
Silence.
"...Oh, please, tell me she got out..."
Suddenly, something exploded inside her mind.
-
I am a slave. I live on my wonderful Master's island. I choose to be a slave because I love my Master and
he wants me to. I choose to be a slave because I am grateful for Master.
I am free to act but I want to act like a slave. I want to because it feels comfortable and right. I want
to be a slave because it brings me everything I could ever want.
-
Heather gasped, awestruck. What in the possible fuck was that?! She had felt some sort of jolt around her
temples, then...Words, directly inside her mind, clearer than any thought she ever had. Like the forced
focus on a textbook definition you have to learn for a test combined with the clarity of a good idea.
Words that rang true, resonated throughout her senses...
...But were way too alien to fool anybody. Heather shook her head and easily regained control. She sure as
hell didn't feel like a slave. If anything, she had greater clarity now. There was no longer any doubt
what was happening.
"I...I am NOT a slave!!" She yelled, mustering all her courage to silence the symphony of anguish her
collapsing nerves played throughout her body. "I'm Heather Chilton! Wh...who are you? Where is Nico? Why
are you d-d-doing this?!"
She had been k**napped. By slavers. Slavers powerful enough to make her lose time and inject thoughts into
her mind. She had heard tales of girls k**napped abroad, addicted to d**gs and sold as prostitutes, of
course, she had seen Taken. But this...this was terrifying. This was elaborate. They had a*****ed her on
the flight back home, for fuck's sake. They had strapped her to a chair telling her to love and obey. They
didn't want her or her body...they wanted her mind. They wanted her on her knees, content to be property.
A willing, loyal slave. The dirty-blonde girl tugged on her restraints with all she had, but it quickly
became apparent she was utterly powerless. She was going to be brainwashed and there was no escaping it.
Suddenly, the d**gs and bordello scenario looked much more comforting.
"Th-this is crazy, you can't actually brainwash someone...You can't..."
But instead of going into panic, she latched onto this idea of impossibility. That's right - if the US
government couldn't find a way to brainwash people with that MKUltra thing, who could hope to? The words
in her brain had to be an illusion somehow. Yes! Just something to make her panic so she'd be open to
suggestion. Heather allowed herself a wry smile, even though she knew the small victory mattered little in
the midst of, well, being subjected to a fucking enslavement program. But she was willing to take any
comfort she could get. Besides, it reminded her of her life motto as a student librarian - knowledge is
power.
So while it was no comfy night of peaceful reading, Heather gathered her wits and set out to understand
exactly what kind of machine she was strapped onto. There were the restraints. She tugged on them again,
if only to give herself hope, but couldn't pull her limbs out of the molds even by a millimeter. But she
already knew that, and remained calm. This allowed her to perceive other things with her touch. For
instance, she felt pinches along her spine between her shoulder blades. The sound of her breathing
reverberated, making it sound there was some sort of dome around her. There were also some things taped to
her body. Electrodes? Scanning devices? If she was to be a mere machine to be reprogrammed, Heather
supposed the slavers needed feedback.
There was something on her modest breasts. Something like a bra, but...different. It wasn't clothing, more
like...comfortable furniture? Likewise, her private parts were covered by some sort of solid but cushy
panties. She thought little of it until she realized she probably wasn't just going to be a slave, but a
sex slave...And if the words they had injected in her mind were any indication, they wanted her to be a
compliant one. A...slutty one.
And just like that, Heather lost what little composure she had regained. panic reared its ugly head again.
Sooner or later, she was going to be ****d. While being brainwashed. While being stripped of freedom and
oh God they wanted her to associate obedience with sexual pleasure. They wanted to turn her into a
submissive. To literally get off of being a slave.
"Oh God...Oh Ghooood...No. No no no c-calm down Heather...they want you afraid..."
In both things, she was right.
-
I am a slave. I love to be a slave. Being obedient and submissive feels so good. I wish I was born a
slave. Slave. Slave. It's important I let that word burrow into my mind and become natural. Being a slave
isn't scary. Being a slave is my life. I want to learn to love it and be happy at my Master's feet.
My Master will show me how wonderful it is to be a slave. My soft slutty mind will listen and understand.
-
"Wh-what oh shit did I really hear that last th..."
Submissive. Submissive. Submissive. The word echoed through Heather's terrified mind. Devices were
whirring into place around her, but all she could think about was herself kneeling. Wet. Smiling. So
thoroughly subjugated that serving the bastards destroying her life had become her greatest pleasure.
The shock of feeling a mechanical cock enter her vagina made her snap back to reality. Unlike Nico, she
wasn't a virgin, but she was by no means used to being made love to. She cried out in unwelcome pleasure,
then whined when another sinister device sucked on her nipples. That was it. Her captors had stripped her
of her humanity and turned her into a sex toy to be molded before use. The dildo went back and forth in
her increasingly wet folds and the breast pumps kept on sucking. Heather the modest geeky girl was being
fucked by a machine.
"STOP THIS! STOP THIS I BEG YOOOUUU!"
The poor girl was out of her mind. She would do anything, anything to stop this defilement.
"I'LL BE A SLAVE! I'LL...aaah...I'll OBEY YOU PLEASE JUST DON'T BRAINWASH ME PLEAAAASE!"
But the machine wasn't interested in surrender. If all the Master wanted of Heather was fearful obedience,
he certainly wouldn't have put her in such an exquisite device. And so, through one of the four IVs
inserted into her back, the enslaving machine began to dispense a calmant.
"I'LL OBEY MASTER I SWEAR I'LL BE A GOOD SLAVE YOU DON'T NEED TO...to...oooh..."
The d**g acted fast, bringing down Heather from her adrenaline high and forcing her to docilely listen to
her quivering flesh. Preparing her to the next phase. As Heather started moaning, chemically forced to
reduce her resistance to a quieter level, the dome around her head lit up.
"Mmmnh...Hyaah...Wh...What's..."
She saw herself. The girl in the picture was her beyond any shadow of a doubt. Same face, same hair, same
B-cup breasts, same freckles. There were some key differences though. Picture-Heather wore a Slave Leia
outfit. She was massaging her tits. She was smiling wide...And she was being fucked good and hard.
Real Heather blushed. Thoughts of outrage were kept at bay by the soothing d**g long enough for the poor
girl to feel butterflies in her stomach. She didn't like to m***** her own breasts at all, but she had
always fantasized about wearing that golden bikini. And that penis sure was big...as big as the one
ravishing her right now. Heather blushed, in a daze, and was surprised by an intense pleasure wave.
"Aaah!
facing one good hour of headaches. It beat facing the full brunt of a seven-hour long flight, but for some
reason, the headache was really severe this time.
"Hmmmngh...dammit..."
She had shoulder-length dirty blonde hair and cute features marred by baggy eyes and a few freckles. She
certainly couldn't be confused for a guy, even with her tendency to wear practical male clothing, but her
body did lack any noteworthy curves. Heather was, through and through, an ordinary girl. There were times
when she regretted it, but in this moment, she just really wanted the headache to fuck off.
She winced and attempted to rub her forehead...only to realize she couldn't move her hands.
"...What the...?"
Still groggy, she opened her eyes, but saw only darkness. A jolt of fear broke the bonds of sleep, and
Heather reflexively pulled as hard as she could. Her hand moved about twenty centimeters, but then slowly
went back to its initial position, pulled by some sort of mold encasing her entire forearm. What was this
thing? Panicked, the college student pulled with all four of her limbs, to similar results. She was
sitting on something, but it sure as hell wasn't an airplane seat. More like a cushy gynecology chair.
That thought triggered a sharp sinking feeling in her heart. She realized she her legs were kept spread
open. And that she could feel the air on her skin.
"Oh...Oh God..."
She was totally naked. It was pitch black and dead silent, but Heather now knew, without a doubt, that she
was in grave danger. As a modest, unadventurous girl, she started to panic. Her breath quickened, her
small B-cup bust rose and fell, and her voice came out as a high-pitched hush.
"I've been k**napped, oh shit oh shit oh sh..."
Heather gritted her teeth. As frightening as her situation was, the last thing she wanted was to alert her
captors. She had to calm down, think of something...So she tried to focus on how this happened. Because,
seriously, what the Hell?
She was just traveling back to America with her friend Nico. Last thing she remembered was being on the
plane with her. Nico had been asleep, her short-haired brunette head resting on her shoulders. Heather's
impish friend never could stand boredom.
How could they have been a*****ed? And why? It was a trusted airplane company, neither of them were rich,
well connected or even beyond a cute-ish 6. They were nothing but thoroughly ordinary college girls...So
why would anyone want to k**nap them and strap them to a weird chair?
"N...Nico? You there?"
Silence.
"...Oh, please, tell me she got out..."
Suddenly, something exploded inside her mind.
-
I am a slave. I live on my wonderful Master's island. I choose to be a slave because I love my Master and
he wants me to. I choose to be a slave because I am grateful for Master.
I am free to act but I want to act like a slave. I want to because it feels comfortable and right. I want
to be a slave because it brings me everything I could ever want.
-
Heather gasped, awestruck. What in the possible fuck was that?! She had felt some sort of jolt around her
temples, then...Words, directly inside her mind, clearer than any thought she ever had. Like the forced
focus on a textbook definition you have to learn for a test combined with the clarity of a good idea.
Words that rang true, resonated throughout her senses...
...But were way too alien to fool anybody. Heather shook her head and easily regained control. She sure as
hell didn't feel like a slave. If anything, she had greater clarity now. There was no longer any doubt
what was happening.
"I...I am NOT a slave!!" She yelled, mustering all her courage to silence the symphony of anguish her
collapsing nerves played throughout her body. "I'm Heather Chilton! Wh...who are you? Where is Nico? Why
are you d-d-doing this?!"
She had been k**napped. By slavers. Slavers powerful enough to make her lose time and inject thoughts into
her mind. She had heard tales of girls k**napped abroad, addicted to d**gs and sold as prostitutes, of
course, she had seen Taken. But this...this was terrifying. This was elaborate. They had a*****ed her on
the flight back home, for fuck's sake. They had strapped her to a chair telling her to love and obey. They
didn't want her or her body...they wanted her mind. They wanted her on her knees, content to be property.
A willing, loyal slave. The dirty-blonde girl tugged on her restraints with all she had, but it quickly
became apparent she was utterly powerless. She was going to be brainwashed and there was no escaping it.
Suddenly, the d**gs and bordello scenario looked much more comforting.
"Th-this is crazy, you can't actually brainwash someone...You can't..."
But instead of going into panic, she latched onto this idea of impossibility. That's right - if the US
government couldn't find a way to brainwash people with that MKUltra thing, who could hope to? The words
in her brain had to be an illusion somehow. Yes! Just something to make her panic so she'd be open to
suggestion. Heather allowed herself a wry smile, even though she knew the small victory mattered little in
the midst of, well, being subjected to a fucking enslavement program. But she was willing to take any
comfort she could get. Besides, it reminded her of her life motto as a student librarian - knowledge is
power.
So while it was no comfy night of peaceful reading, Heather gathered her wits and set out to understand
exactly what kind of machine she was strapped onto. There were the restraints. She tugged on them again,
if only to give herself hope, but couldn't pull her limbs out of the molds even by a millimeter. But she
already knew that, and remained calm. This allowed her to perceive other things with her touch. For
instance, she felt pinches along her spine between her shoulder blades. The sound of her breathing
reverberated, making it sound there was some sort of dome around her. There were also some things taped to
her body. Electrodes? Scanning devices? If she was to be a mere machine to be reprogrammed, Heather
supposed the slavers needed feedback.
There was something on her modest breasts. Something like a bra, but...different. It wasn't clothing, more
like...comfortable furniture? Likewise, her private parts were covered by some sort of solid but cushy
panties. She thought little of it until she realized she probably wasn't just going to be a slave, but a
sex slave...And if the words they had injected in her mind were any indication, they wanted her to be a
compliant one. A...slutty one.
And just like that, Heather lost what little composure she had regained. panic reared its ugly head again.
Sooner or later, she was going to be ****d. While being brainwashed. While being stripped of freedom and
oh God they wanted her to associate obedience with sexual pleasure. They wanted to turn her into a
submissive. To literally get off of being a slave.
"Oh God...Oh Ghooood...No. No no no c-calm down Heather...they want you afraid..."
In both things, she was right.
-
I am a slave. I love to be a slave. Being obedient and submissive feels so good. I wish I was born a
slave. Slave. Slave. It's important I let that word burrow into my mind and become natural. Being a slave
isn't scary. Being a slave is my life. I want to learn to love it and be happy at my Master's feet.
My Master will show me how wonderful it is to be a slave. My soft slutty mind will listen and understand.
-
"Wh-what oh shit did I really hear that last th..."
Submissive. Submissive. Submissive. The word echoed through Heather's terrified mind. Devices were
whirring into place around her, but all she could think about was herself kneeling. Wet. Smiling. So
thoroughly subjugated that serving the bastards destroying her life had become her greatest pleasure.
The shock of feeling a mechanical cock enter her vagina made her snap back to reality. Unlike Nico, she
wasn't a virgin, but she was by no means used to being made love to. She cried out in unwelcome pleasure,
then whined when another sinister device sucked on her nipples. That was it. Her captors had stripped her
of her humanity and turned her into a sex toy to be molded before use. The dildo went back and forth in
her increasingly wet folds and the breast pumps kept on sucking. Heather the modest geeky girl was being
fucked by a machine.
"STOP THIS! STOP THIS I BEG YOOOUUU!"
The poor girl was out of her mind. She would do anything, anything to stop this defilement.
"I'LL BE A SLAVE! I'LL...aaah...I'll OBEY YOU PLEASE JUST DON'T BRAINWASH ME PLEAAAASE!"
But the machine wasn't interested in surrender. If all the Master wanted of Heather was fearful obedience,
he certainly wouldn't have put her in such an exquisite device. And so, through one of the four IVs
inserted into her back, the enslaving machine began to dispense a calmant.
"I'LL OBEY MASTER I SWEAR I'LL BE A GOOD SLAVE YOU DON'T NEED TO...to...oooh..."
The d**g acted fast, bringing down Heather from her adrenaline high and forcing her to docilely listen to
her quivering flesh. Preparing her to the next phase. As Heather started moaning, chemically forced to
reduce her resistance to a quieter level, the dome around her head lit up.
"Mmmnh...Hyaah...Wh...What's..."
She saw herself. The girl in the picture was her beyond any shadow of a doubt. Same face, same hair, same
B-cup breasts, same freckles. There were some key differences though. Picture-Heather wore a Slave Leia
outfit. She was massaging her tits. She was smiling wide...And she was being fucked good and hard.
Real Heather blushed. Thoughts of outrage were kept at bay by the soothing d**g long enough for the poor
girl to feel butterflies in her stomach. She didn't like to m***** her own breasts at all, but she had
always fantasized about wearing that golden bikini. And that penis sure was big...as big as the one
ravishing her right now. Heather blushed, in a daze, and was surprised by an intense pleasure wave.
"Aaah!
Oceana
- 27.09.2020
- 37
- 0
