Sophie's Submission

While Sophie remained sealed in her deprivation chamber, her sister Kalani endured a far harsher regimen in a different wing of the facility.

Kalani was twenty years old, with the same red hair as her sister but worn shorter, her freckles more concentrated across her shoulders and chest. Where Sophie was quiet and naïve, Kalani had always been the fiery one—quicker to argue, quicker to plead. That fire was about to be tested.

She stood naked in the center of the intake room, wrists cuffed behind her back, a thick bit gag already buckled in place to muffle her protests. Her pale skin glistened under the harsh lights. Two handlers and a stern male trainer named Marcus watched as a heavy steel-and-leather chastity belt was fitted around her hips.

The belt clicked shut with finality, the front shield pressing a thick, ridged probe deep into her pussy. Kalani whimpered, shifting uncomfortably as it seated fully. The rear of the standard belt included an anal shield, but when the handlers moved to lock that part in place, Kalani panicked.

“Nnnngh! Please—no!” she cried around the gag, shaking her head violently. “Not in my ass—please don’t put anything there! I’ll be good, just not that—”

Marcus laughed, a low, amused sound. “Listen to this one. Begging for special treatment on her very first day. How precious.”

He nodded to the handlers. “Special belt for the defiant little sister. No anal shield. We’ll train that hole properly instead.”

They swapped the belt. This version left her asshole completely exposed—vulnerable and on display. The front probe remained locked deep in her cunt, but her rear was now open for immediate use. Kalani’s eyes widened in horror as they dragged her to a heavy bondage chair in the center of the room.

The chair was a monstrosity of black steel and padded leather. They forced her down into it, spreading her legs obscenely wide and locking her ankles into stirrups that tilted her hips up and forward. Her cuffed wrists were pulled down and secured behind the chair back, arching her chest outward. Thick straps went over her thighs, waist, and above her breasts, pinning her helplessly in place. A sensory deprivation hood—similar to Sophie’s but with built-in headphones—was pulled over her head, sealing her in darkness and muffling the outside world.

The same hypnotic obedience recording began immediately in her ears:

Rule One: I am property. My body belongs to my owners…

Kalani tried to protest again, but the hood and gag turned it into pathetic, muffled noises.

Marcus stepped between her spread thighs, stroking her exposed asshole with a gloved finger. “You didn’t want anything in here? Too bad. Defiant sluts get the machine.”

A heavy fucking machine was rolled into position. The thick, tapered dildo mounted on it was already slick with lube. It pressed against her tight pucker and began to thrust—slow at first, but relentless. Inch by inch it forced its way inside her, stretching her virgin ass open. Kalani screamed around the gag, her body jerking against the unyielding straps.

The machine didn’t stop. It drove deeper, then began a steady fucking rhythm. As she moaned and thrashed, the electricity started—punishing shocks delivered through pads on her nipples, the chastity probe in her cunt, and a ring around the base of the invading dildo itself. Every time she clenched or tried to resist the machine, sharp zaps rewarded her defiance.

“Begging gets you stretched,” Marcus said loudly enough for the hood mics to pick up. “You’ll take ever larger sizes until this greedy asshole gapes for its owners.”

The dildo began to cycle larger. After several minutes of steady thrusting, the machine paused, retracted, and a noticeably thicker attachment locked into place. It pushed back in, forcing her to open wider. The stretch burned. The electricity intensified, shocking her clit through the belt and her nipples in timed bursts that mixed pain with unwanted, building arousal. Her pussy clenched hard around the chastity probe, dripping despite herself.

The audio in the hood never stopped:

Rule Two: My holes exist for use. My pleasure is irrelevant.

Rule Three: I will thank my owners for every punishment…

Kalani’s muffled sobs mixed with the wet, rhythmic sounds of the machine pounding her ass. The larger dildo stretched her brutally now, the machine speeding up, driving deep on every stroke. Electricity punished every twitch of resistance while the hypnotic voice drilled the Rules deeper.

She was edged relentlessly—the combination of the anal violation, the shocks, and the probe vibrating inside her cunt brought her right to the brink again and again, only for the current to drop or the machine to slow at the last second. No release. Only denial and deeper stretching.

Rule Four: Orgasms are earned privileges…

In her dark, isolated world, Kalani’s mind began to fracture just like her sister’s. The fiery protests faded into broken, rhythmic whimpers in time with the machine’s thrusts. The Rules repeated. Her asshole burned and stretched around the ever-larger intrusions. Punishing electricity kept her awake and desperate.

Somewhere in the facility, two sisters—separated by walls but united in training—were both being broken down, one in silent sensory void, the other in loud, mechanical violation.

Both repeating the same words in their minds:

I am property…