Spilled Milk

It’s amazing what they can do with technology these days.

It’s late Friday night, and I’m in some fancy nightclub whose name I don’t remember. I’ve never been in here before and don’t plan to return. I’m not interested in the dancing or the drinks, though I make sure to partake in both enough that I don’t look suspicious.

What I’m really after, and I guess this makes me just like most of the guys here, is the women. I’m watching them discreetly, looking for one with all the right qualities. Beauty is a plus, obviously, but I’m also looking for physical strength. Not necessarily an out and out bodybuilder type, though I wouldn’t be opposed to one, just someone who could take a beating and keep going. That’s going to be very important soon; I like to both work hard and play hard with my girls.

More than anything, I’m looking for a certain… je ne sais quoi? A woman with enough presence to stand out despite the roar of the crowd, the shitty music blaring from the loudspeakers, and the obnoxious flashing lights.

Tonight I find what I’m looking for in a woman whose name I will later learn is Chrissy. She’s in her early twenties and gorgeous, with silken blonde hair and a lovely plump pair of tits that strain against her dark t-shirt. I watch her dancing with her girlfriends, her skintight jeans swaying to the music, and imagine all the ways I’ll enjoy making her suffer.

Arranging things with her is literal child’s play, a sleight of hand I learned from a book of magic tricks as a kid. The drug I slip into her drink as I walk by is nothing as basic or as obvious as your typical roofie. It combines a slow acting sleeping pill with a microscopic tracker I can access from my phone. The electronics won’t survive her digestive system for more than a few hours, but that’s plenty of time.

Once I confirm that she’s swallowed the drug, I waste no time leaving. When Chrissy is eventually reported as missing, I want to be sure that there’s nothing in the club’s security footage to incriminate me. Even if someone ever reviews the tapes, it’ll show that I drove away long before she left by her own means.

I drive around a bit, take a quick nap in my car, and have a bite to eat - I’ll need plenty of energy later - before getting back on the road. The tracker leads me to a downtown apartment building, where I eventually narrow Chrissy’s location to the second floor. I’ve brought a set of lock picks, but they aren’t necessary this time: the blonde was so tired that she forgot to lock the door. I find her collapsed facedown on a couch, having fallen asleep without even undressing.

By this point, it’s safe to say the beautiful girl has officially won herself a trip to fucktoy training camp. For the next few months, she’ll spend every hour of every day being broken down into a whimpering doormat who would chew off her own fingers if I gave the order, and then built back up into a hardworking and obedient sex slave who will devote herself body and soul to pleasing her owner.

Honestly, I’d happily do this sort of thing to women like Chrissy for free, but there are plenty of rich folks willing to pay top dollar for a beautiful, expertly trained fucktoy who has already vanished from the system and been written off as dead. By now, I have the money to not only lead a very comfortable life, but to make sure my projects have very, very uncomfortable ones.

I take a moment to admire what is probably the last bit of peaceful sleep Chrissy will ever have, then get to work. The first step is to give her a shot in the stomach, inject some proper tranquilizers into her system. The sleeping pills knocked her out, but these will make sure she stays that way.

I count silently to 200, just to be sure the tranqs have kicked in, then start peeling off her clothing. Her bare breasts look as fat and juicy as her t-shirt had suggested, and a quick tug of her pussy lips reveals a welcoming pink tunnel. Not a virgin, but you can’t win the lottery every time.

Chrissy just lays there, breathing softly, even as I pump her twat with one finger to confirm it’s as silky as her hair and as tight her jeans. A brass marching band could perform outside her window without causing so much as a sigh. I could even fuck her like this if I wanted… and I do.

Now, I’m not going to claim that I don’t enjoy the next few minutes of riding her twat while my tongue explores her breasts and the soft skin of her throat. Or rolling her over afterward and pumping an asshole that very well might have been virgin, smacking her upturned ass cheeks while I pound her bleeding starfish. Or tugging open her mouth to slip my limp member in for a cleaning and sticking around until I’m hard enough to shaft her throat, my balls slapping wetly against that pretty face of hers. The three thick loads of cum I leave inside her would make a liar out of me.

But my enjoyment isn’t the point (okay, not the only point). My goal here is to establish a baseline performance for beautiful Chrissy and her three untrained fuckholes. Many girls like to assume that their good looks and nubile bodies will do half their fucktoy job for them, and that kind of laziness is unacceptable. Now that I’ve experienced what I guarantee will be the least enjoyable fuck Chrissy provides anyone ever again, I’ll have a better sense for how much she is  actively contributing to all her future rapes. Or to put it another way, if at any time in the future I don’t enjoying fucking the blonde ten times as much as I did tonight, Chrissy will earn herself some painful motivational lessons.

With my seed trickling from her used holes and my balls temporarily sated, I take out a pair of earmuffs and a visor. Not only will they completely block out her hearing and vision once affixed, the electronic signals they receive will let me send her whatever sights and sounds I want. Chrissy will never get to see my real face or hear my real voice. Even if she miraculously gains her freedom one day and swears revenge, the only identifying info she’ll have on me is the shape of my cock and the taste of my cum.

I also ready the needle and thread. We wouldn’t want her equipment to ever slip off, after all. Since she’s not capable of appreciating the pain right now, I do my sewing with gentle efficiency.

Now it’s time for some invasive surgery. The microchips I brought with me won’t keep working forever, but they’ll make it at least four months. That’s usually plenty of time to get a fucktoy trained up and sold, but if Chrissy turns out to be a slow learner, or her owner wants to make them permanent, I can always replace them. And since that procedure will involve her being awake without any anesthesia, it won’t be a job I mind doing at all.

Each chip is connected to a remote keyed to her, and capable of sending three possible electrical signals to the nearby muscles: a command to relax, a command to clench, and a sort of white static noise that just makes the muscle spasm and feel like it’s being shocked without causing any actual harm.

The first one gets sewn into the skin just under her chin. When prompted by her remote, it will force her jaw to sag open, leaving her mouth ready for some throatfucking or piss drinking. In time, once she’s accepted her new place in life, that setting will rarely be necessary, but during the first few weeks it will be incredibly convenient to be able to use her throat as a fleshlight or urinal without having to apply a gag or caution her about teeth.

The command that will be used more often though, and is usually on by default, is to do the opposite and force her mouth tightly shut. Listening to a girl alternate between begging and threats and pleas for mercy can be fun for the first day or two, but eventually the only sounds you want to hear coming from her mouth are screams.

I’ve also found it helpful for enhancing her training via food. For the first week or two, I like to keep a trainee on a strict diet of piss and cum. Once she’s properly starving, like “happy to suck me off just so she can gulp down a few calories worth of my seed” starving, I present her with two bowls of food. One contains a hot, delicious, home cooked meal, and the other has the cold slop you get after putting wet dog food, a few handfuls of bugs, rotten meat, and various non-edible bits of trash from the bottom of my garbage can through a blender. It’s adorable to watch her desperately mashing her clenched teeth against the plate of human food, sobbing hopelessly at being so close and so far to a proper meal, until finally giving up and switching to the fucktoy chow she’ll be eating for the rest of her stay with me.

The second chip goes into her asshole, just past her sphincter, and makes fucktoy maintenance so much easier. Don’t want a girl leaking piss and cum from her butt everywhere she goes? One tap and she’s sealed up until I’m ready to add even more. Is she being reluctant about one of her usual tasks, like licking my cock clean after use or tonguing my anus? A few painful zaps is all it takes to get her smiling and enthusiastic. A bit too shy about taking a dump in her litter box while I watch, especially if I’m recording it for her eventual advertisement video? One relaxed asshole later and it’s all sliding out. And of course, if I get a little rough during training and accidentally turn her wrinkled starfish into a gaping ruin - hey, we’ve all been there before - a steady series of muscle exercises will soon have that sphincter as tight as new.

Installing the third microchip is a more delicate process than the others, requiring me to get a speculum and open her twat wide enough to reach her cervix. This one has pressure- and time- sensitive triggers that will be invaluable in Chrissy’s fucktoy training. For example, I can set it to periodically fry her cunt if it doesn’t get pressed every couple seconds, and then watch her bounce frantically on my cock, doing her best to kiss me with her cervix. Or I could have it torture her for a more sustained period of time if it’s not activated every few hours, resulting in a pretty blonde girl constantly begging me to fit some time in my busy schedule for pounding her cunt.

Honestly, there no end to uses for this one, and it’s the chip my customers most frequently request I come around regularly to maintain after sale. Want your fucktoy’s cunt to provide an extra tight squeeze? Do you like sending random intimate reminders that you can cause her excruciating pain any time you like? Or do you just fancy taking a piss break in her womb and don’t want that narrow cervix to spoil most of your fun? I’ve got you covered.

Those are the three major chips, but there are plenty of minor ones to sew into her as well. A few dozen make their way to various erogenous zones like her breasts, the soles of her feet, her ass cheeks, her clit… basically if there’s a part of her body I intend to thrash at any point, I want to make sure there’s a pressure sensor nearby to add extra pain to every blow.

And then there the ones at the back of her knees that will turn her legs to jelly if she ever tries to stand. A couple on her wrists so she can’t even make a fist. One on her throat for easy choking while enjoying her fuckholes. A second one near her clit whose sole purpose is to fry the hell out of it if she ever starts getting aroused. The kill switch at the back of her head that I’ll never tell her about, which will automatically reduce her brain to smoking char if she ever gets more than fifty yards away from both me and my home. It takes hours to get each and every one of them set up, but it’s work worth doing.

Once all of her new electronic devices are in place, I get out a more traditional set of zip ties and arrange her in a hogtied position. She’s a big girl, but my duffel bag has carried bigger, and soon she’s snugly packed away in it. The two minute walk back to my car is the most dangerous and stressful part of the entire job. There are no great excuses for being out at five in the morning with a bulging duffel bag. But no one pops up to demand to know what I’m doing, and I breathe a sigh of relief when my passenger has been safely put away in the trunk.

It’ll take about three hours to get home from here, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a little more fun right now. With a grin, I get out the remote for Chrissy and turn it to my “welcome to your new life” setting.

I said before that a brass marching band couldn’t wake Chrissy up right now, and that was true. But it’s also true that the sounds being pumped into her ears are far louder than that band could ever dream of. And the content is all vicious, shrill, nails on chalkboard stuff. I’m doing permanent damage to her hearing, but that’s fine, just means I’ll have to crank up the volume going forward.

For the sights… I’d carefully curated a selection from only the finest and goriest of my extensive snuff collection. She’s waking up to a vision of women just like her having their eyes gouged out with dirty fingernails, their flesh chewed up by dogs, their limbs ripped from their sockets, and so much more. I assume the first thing she does is try and shut her eyes to block it all out, but my needle and thread has already seen to that. Sometimes a bit of old fashioned tech is just what you need.

And last but not least, in case she’s not much of a movies or music girl, the welcome setting also tells the microchips in her cunt, butt, and other sensitive places to start randomly shocking her every few seconds on the highest level. As far as she’ll be concerned, she’s surrounded by madmen going to town on her with cattle prods.

The car shakes slightly as my newest trainee wakes up to a living nightmare. I expect she’s currently screaming her lungs out, but with her mouth clamped shut, the night remains blissfully free of her cries. My smile widens as I bask in the convenience of modern technology for a minute, and then I whistle as I put the car in gear and get on our way.