Spilled Milk

I love lesbians.

I've never thought too hard about why. I mean, it's a pretty common kink for heterosexual guys to have, isn't it?

Of course, most guys probably don't express that kink by kidnapping and raping them. That's my own thing.

I spent the evening after work the same way I spent most of my free time these days: fucking Elena. Now, I've had quite a few women in my bed, but my oh my, Elena might just be the loveliest. She's just a smidge over six feet tall, with tanned Mediterranean skin and long silky hair. When I first met her, she'd had the lean, muscled build of an athlete, but no amount of exercise could tame the shapely curve of that ass, or the sweet lovely swell of her breasts.

Once upon a time, she had also been a real feisty cunt. We're talking grade-A ball-crushing, man-hating, woman power sort of stuff. My favorite. From day one, there had been no fear in her, even when blindfolded and helpless in my basement. The only emotions she displayed were determination and rage. Would you like to know the first thing she said when I took the gag out? Most girls beg for help, some try to negotiate or make demands.  Elena called me a motherfucker, and told me that she hoped I had a long thick cock, because she was going to chop it off and shove it up my own asshole.

That was my Elena. No shortage of fire inside her. If she wasn't talking about how she'd escape any moment, it was about how she'd kill me, usually in graphic detail, or how much she was looking forward to chewing on my dick if I ever risked bringing it near her mouth.

There wasn't much sign of that Elena anymore. I was relaxing naked on the bed I kept in the basement while she bounced her hips up and down atop me. She was on her knees with her wrists clasped behind her, gently bobbing her waist just the way I liked, every movement making her firm round tits jiggle.  She would straighten up until only the head of my dick was still embraced by her soft warm cunt, then sink back down, her twat easily swallowing my shaft. The movement was steady and sensual, with the smooth rhythm that only comes from hundreds of hours of practice. Despite her relaxed movements, her whole body was tense with anxiety, and she stared at me with a fawning, cringing expression as she worked, hyper alert for any sign that she wasn't doing a good enough job.

Yes, heavy abuse had done wonders for her attitude. The change hadn't taken place overnight, of course. Far from it. I'd spent long months beating her daily, starving her half to death, and keeping her locked up for hours at a time in a cage too small to even stretch her limbs. All pretty standard enslavement stuff, but this is the important bit: in all that time, I never raped her. She was kept naked, and sure, there was a sexual aspect to a lot of the stuff I did to her, but she was never penetrated or anything like that. It was always pure torture.

The schedule was simple. When I woke in the morning, I would head down into the basement to amuse myself with her a bit before work, then fill her bowls with water and dog food and leave for the day. I didn't want her getting too rested, so whenever I'm not with her the shock collar she wore was programmed to deliver timed shocks every fifteen minutes. Enough time to catch bits of sleep, but nowhere near enough to ever stop being exhausted. Once I got home from work, the entire evening would be spent torturing her in earnest. Weekends were much the same, except that I was with her the entire day.

Elena would talk a lot during our sessions, pretty much nonstop whenever she wasn't gagged. I, on the hand, was completely silent, with a single exception. I didn't try to hide my enjoyment of what I was doing to her, but I never engaged with her.

That exception came up once every few days or so. During the middle of a session, I'd stop to casually ask Elena the question, the most important question of her life: “Would you rather be my property?”

Naturally, she'd give a response that was both negative and amusingly colorful. I'd never say anything further after her refusal, just get back to the pain.

She made it through five months of this before she finally said yes, a record for my captives. Most of them only last a week or two, and more than one has agreed the very first time I offered. Elena was strong and willful, but even she couldn't fight the inevitable.

I had her hanging upside down by her legs that day. I'd cuffed her arms behind her, and tied a burlap sack around her head, leaving her blind. As she swung there, completely at my mercy, her sleek, naked body was drenched in sweat. Some of that was from exertion, but not all; our entire playroom was like a sauna. Just another important part of the atmosphere. Out of all the ways I've tortured my captives, I'm not sure if anything beats sipping ice cold water while they sweat.

She hadn't quite lost the athletic build yet, but her muscle tone had faded over the months, thanks to malnutrition and a lack of exercise.  She was still quite a bit stronger than me, and I had to be careful handling her. I always kept the shock collar remote close, but it wouldn't help much if she got her hands on me.

I'd attached heavy weights to her pierced nipples, pulling her tits down low and exposing their soft underside as a perfect target. Eight metal clothespins were already clamped there, and I was debating if I could fit in a ninth.

After about a minute, I found a decent spot, and snapped it on. The effect was immediate and wonderful. My Elena thrashed in pain, swinging from side to side in a futile effort to shake her new jewelry off. I couldn't hear much of what she was saying, but it sounded like a steady stream of cursing.

I waited for her to calm down, then surveyed her tits again. I judged that I'd run out of real estate, and settled for the riding crop instead of a tenth clothespin. I smacked the underside of her titties with the crop as hard as I could, making them shake and bounce as she railed at me, until I'd succeeded in knocking all of the clothespins off.

I picked them all up, ready to begin the game again, then paused. “Would you rather be my property?” I asked. It was the forty fifth time I'd popped the question since her arrival.

There was silence under her hood for a long moment, then she spat out the word “fine” with all the venom she could muster.

I shrugged. “The proper response for next time is 'yes please, master'”, I told her, and then reapplied the first clothespin.

That pissed her off enough to refuse the next couple times I asked, but a few weeks later, I popped the question again while burning her with hot wax. She was on her back this time, limbs spread eagled and bound to rings on the floor, and I'd just finished peeling the third round of dried wax off of her. I brought over the hot bowl of liquid that held what had once been the fourth candle, and set it down next to her head.

She was starting to look like a disaster victim by now. Her eyes were sunken, her figure gaunt, and I no longer had to worry as much about being physically overpowered. There was still plenty of fire in her, though.

“Would you rather be my property?” I asked. Her eyes had darted to the bowl, and then back to me.

“...Yes... please... m-master...” she'd managed, forcing each word out through clenched teeth, like every syllable of it cost her something. The last word in particular she spat out as though voicing it turned her stomach.

I knelt in front of her spread legs, unzipping my pants to pull out my dick. She immediately turned her head to look away, grimacing. I made no comment, just put my dick back in my pants, picked up the bowl, and started pouring wax onto her stomach.

The next time she did a bit better. Elena was already in doggy position at the time, nipple rings locked to the floor rings while I caned her ass cheeks. I don't know if a day had gone by where I hadn't found something to do to hurt that plump butt of hers, but that day I was being especially rough. You see, to prevent her skin from getting too callous and desensitized, I'd occasionally go over parts of it with a brillo pad, scrubbing her with the steel wool until I'd removed a couple layers. Her cheeks were still red and raw from a fresh scrubbing earlier, and from the way she was shrieking bloody murder, she was really feeling every hit.

She showed no hesitation this time when I asked her, blurting her agreement out even before I'd finished talking. On my command, she'd craned her neck as far as she could to look back at me while I fucked her. Shame and humiliation were written all across her face as I became the first man ever inside her cunt. Even dry, she had felt wonderful that first time, and it hadn't taken me long to shoot my load into her tight twat.

“You didn't look happy enough” was the only feedback I gave her before getting back to work with the cane.

Elena stalled a bit at that point. Physically she'd already given in, and was willing to do anything to escape more pain, but mentally was another story. I wasn't just asking for her body, I was asking for her soul, and it wasn't something she could give up easily. More than two months passed like that, where I enjoyed her lesbian pussy once or twice a week. She would try to seem compliant every time, but she couldn't hide her hatred for what I was doing.

The day she finally succeeded, Elena was hanging from the ceiling again, this time by all four limbs, while I plucked hairs from her pussy one by one. I could tell that she was close to breaking, and I wanted her cunt bare once she was mine.

She beamed at me with a wide, fake smile the whole time I was inside her. Even when I finished, spurting bareback inside her, her only reaction was a couple quick eye blinks. “Very good,” I told her, the first time I'd ever praised her. “Next is your asshole.”

It only took Elena a second to hide her disgust, but that was enough. She knew she'd failed, and started sobbing even before I ripped the next hair out.

I let a full month pass before I gave her another chance. During that time, I was nastier to her than ever. Now she received only half a bowl of dog food a day, and I shortened the time between automated shocks when I was away, giving her the bare minimum of sleep she needed to survive.

She began to beg me to take her. She'd plead with me, trying to convince me that she was broken and compliant. She'd promise to do anything I liked if only I'd go easy on her. Some days I gagged her just to make her shut up.

Though she'd last track of time months ago, and probably didn't even know what season it was by now, it amused me to pick our one year anniversary as the day to finally ask her again. And what a difference a year had made. I don't know if even Elena's family would've recognized her by that point. I'd left her hair as perfect as ever, often washing it myself for her, but in every other respect she'd become a shriveled up shell of the person she used to be. Those muscles she'd been so proud of had wasted away, leaving a pathetic weakling that I could slap around and manhandle without fear of reprisal. That's not to say all of her physique was gone. On the contrary, her pussy muscles had never been stronger. For months she'd been practicing our own version of kegels every day, using numerous dildos of varying length, thickness, and texture. She knew as well as I did that the exercises were so that she'd be an expert at pleasing my cock when I started fucking her regularly, and I think sometimes the sheer humiliation of that was worse than anything else I did to her.

So on the big day, I asked her if she was ready to be my property. She nodded quickly, and promised that she was. I had her standing this time, her legs spread painfully wide and locked to the floor rings, her arms straight out behind her in a binder. In front of her was the heavy oaken table that she was sometimes tied to for other tortures. I put a hand on her back and pushed her upper body down, until her chin rested on the table, and told her to stick her tongue out.

She flinched when I showed her the nail, but was obedient enough not to move. “This will be your last test, Elena,” I told her. “If you do a good job here, you'll be my property, and I won't have to keep hurting you. Doesn't that sound nice?” She nodded her agreement, eyes still fixed on the nail. This was already more words than I’d ever said to her in a day.

“So here's what going to happen. I'm going to begin by nailing your tongue to this table.” She cringed a little at that. “Then I'm going to start fucking your ass. Now this next part is very important, Elena. Are you listening?” She nodded. “It's going to be your job to fuck me with your asshole. You're going to wiggle your hips, and you're going to squeeze down on me. It's okay if you don't have much experience with anal; I'm looking for enthusiasm, not skill. If I don't think you're doing your best to please your new master, I'm going to have to take over. That means fucking you hard and fast, and you know what that's going to do?”

Her eyes crossed as she looked down at her outstretched tongue. “That's right,” I confirmed. “Your tongue will get ripped right down the middle, and that's if you're lucky. I've had girls lose their entire tongue down here because they weren't willing to give it their all. Do you want to be like them?”

She shook her head. “Good. Once we're finished, I'm going to put a special stud in there. It's got a hole in it so that we can revisit this game. For the next month, assuming you pass, we'll do this at least once a day. I've found it an excellent way to teach new property the ins and outs of buttfucking. Sound good?”

“Yeth mathtuh,” Elena managed, unable to talk clearly with her tongue out.

My captive held herself still as I hammered the nail into place. Each strike made her quiver in barely contained agony, but she endured. Once the nail was firmly embedded in the wood, I placed a mirror on the table in front of her so that both of us could watch her expression, then went around to her backside and examined the hole I was about to enjoy. Her anal ring was still slightly swollen from the flogging I'd given her ass earlier in the week, and while her wide stance did a good job of exposing her asshole, it still looked like it was going to be a very tight fit.

I licked my thumb and began probing her hole. She winced at the intrusion, but made no further reaction. “So Elena, I know you've had plenty of lesbian lovers before I nabbed you,” I said. “But I'm curious: did any of them ever fuck this cute little backdoor of yours?”

“Nuh uhh,” she mumbled.

“How about self exploration? You ever try sticking one of your toys in here, or even just a finger?”

“Nuh uhh.”

“So just so we're clear, you've never had anything all in your ass that went deeper than my thumb is going right now, yeah?”

“Yuh huhh.”

“Perfect.” My thumb slid out of her. I drew closer, brushed some hair away from her left ear, and whispered into it, my voice hushed and intimate. “Before we get started, Elena, I've got a very full bladder. Is it okay if I piss in your virgin asshole?”

She stiffened, and I saw her face drain of color. “Y... yuh huhh...”

I hadn't been lying about my bladder. I'd gone through three or four beers that morning, and hadn't taken a bathroom break yet. I aimed at her slightly stretched hole, and let loose. Hot urine shot into her rectum, reaching places inside her that nothing but her own shit had ever touched, and Elena let out a soft whimper.

It took about a full minute to finish. Much of the urine was dribbling back down her leg, but I figured there was nearly a full cup still soaking her bowels. “That felt great, Elena,” I told her. “I think I'll do all my pissing like this from now on.” I chuckled at the expression that produced. “Oh don't worry, it won't always be your ass. I'm sure your cunt and mouth will make good urinals too, won't they?” I wasn't sure if she realized my question wasn't rhetorical, so I repeated it for her. “Won't they, Elena?”

“Yuh huhhh...”

Urinating had left me soft, but the sight of her red, wet asshole made it easy to get hard again. I positioned my cock at her anal ring, rubbing against her flesh but making no attempt to squeeze in. “It's time to prove yourself, piss trough. Push yourself back on me. Fuck that virgin asshole on my prick.”

I felt the pressure on my cock as she pressed herself against me.  Her hole strained, as if she was trying to take a shit, and more urine dribbled out. Then, with a small pop, I was inside her. She shuddered from the pain, but kept pushing, taking me deeper. Millimeter by millimeter, her clenching, fluttering asshole began to welcome me in.

It was a slow process, and that gave me plenty of time for some verbal abuse. Remember, I hadn't really spoken to her for an entire year now, so I was just bursting with things to say. “It's very important that you understand what you are now,” I told her. “I mean, even someone as stupid as you must know you're not a human being anymore. No self-respecting person would let someone nail her tongue to a table, take his piss up her butt, and then fuck him with her asshole. They just wouldn't. You understand that, right?”

“...yuh huhhh...”

“You're not a lesbian anymore either. Not really, now that you're taking cock so eagerly, are you?”

“...nuh uhh...” I was completely inside of her by now, and she began to wiggle her hips slightly, trying to loosen herself up.

“Do you know what you are?”

“Nuh uhh”

“You're a toilet.” She didn't stop moving, but I felt her shiver at the word. “That's all. Your days of being a real person, an individual with hopes and dreams, those ended when you agreed to this. You weren't agreeing to being a sex slave or a pet. No, you're property. An object, a thing. My sweet lovely Elena, you're just a warm, soft toilet that belongs to me. Am I wrong?”

She was quiet for a long minute, her hips still rocking gently back and forth.

“Am I wrong?” I repeated, a bit of frost in my tone.

“...Nuh uhh.”

“Then say it.”

The tight grip of her ass was nothing compared to the expression on her face. Her dead eyes stared back at her own reflection, soaking in what she'd been reduced to. A tear ran down her face. “Ahmm juthht uh wurmm shofft tohyit tht beeyawngs tuh yooh.”

“Yes you are,” I agreed. “Yes you are. Now take your owner for a good ride, toilet. He can't wait to dump his load in your asshole.”

I had a wonderful time with her after that. Sweet Elena worked very hard to earn her first sperm enema. She did such a good job, in fact, that I made her do it again before pulling the nail out of her tongue. The entire experience had taught her quite a bit about her new place in the universe, and with only a little verbal encouragement I had her on her knees, meekly licking me clean.

“That's the spirit,” I told her, as her swollen tongue lapped at me, the metal gauge in it a pleasantly cool contrast to her hot flesh. “All a toilet cares about is piss, shit, and cum. Slurp all three off your owner's prick, Elena.”

The first few weeks after breaking a bitch are always the best. I introduced Elena to sexual acts she'd never even dreamed of. All three of her holes became familiar sheaths for my cock, and she was taught to use them well. By the time the two year anniversary of her abduction rolled around, there was nothing remaining of the fiery, determined lesbian she'd once been. All that was left was an obedient toilet that understood her place.

The new and improved Elena was fun, sexy, and so very good at wringing the cum from my balls… but she was also boring. For me, it’s all about the anticipation and the conquest. Elena was such an excellent toilet that I took a longer victory lap with her than I did with any of my previous targets, but tedium had to set in eventually. And so here we were now, more than three years after I took her, with Elena bouncing wonderfully on my cock as I laid in bed.

I put my hand around her soft, slim neck, and squeezed.

Elena’s hands were free, but she didn’t fight me. She didn’t even stop bouncing. My lovely toilet understood that if I decided to kill her, so be it. A man can do whatever he wants with his property, after all, including breaking it if he feels like it. And the knowledge that she might be about to die was no excuse to stop fucking me.

I relaxed my grip after a minute. Her breathing was a little strained afterward, but she had no other reaction. “I think we’re done here, Elena,” I told her in a friendly tone. “Thank you for everything, really. You were a great lay.” My phone was in reach on the nightstand, and I grabbed it to begin scrolling through the news. “You know where the door to the upstairs is,” I added without looking up. “Electronic code is 27625138, and you’ll want to turn the handle all the way down. Damn thing likes to stick sometimes. Front door is down the hall and to the left. You can finish this ride if you like, but see yourself out afterward.”

She gave me a confused look as she continued pumping my cock so beautifully. “M-master…?” she asked uncertainly.

I flapped my hand. “Go. Run, be free, frolic in the streets, or whatever it is lesbians do in their spare time.”

“But… I…” She looked almost as lost and hopeless as that first time I’d nailed her tongue down and buttfucked her.

“You’re welcome to go to the police if you like,” I told her. “You know where I live, what I look like, and I don’t think even a power washer could scrub all the DNA evidence away by now. I don’t recommend it, though. I have plenty of recorded video where you behave like an eager pain slut, enough to muddy the waters and drag out a trial. I can’t predict where the jury will fall on reasonable doubt, but I can promise that by the time it’s over, all the grisly details about what I’ve done to you, along with leaked copies of all those videos, will be freely available to anyone looking up your name. Plus, I have plenty of friends - you’ve seen a few of them, sucked their cocks and drank their piss - who might pay you a visit to express their unhappiness.”

“So I… you want me to… I can just go home…?” she asked meekly.

“Why not?” I said cheerfully. “When people ask questions, make up any story you want. Tell them, I don’t know, you got addicted to some hard drugs and whored yourself out for a while. Or maybe you were feeling bicurious and horny and shacked up with a boyfriend, until he kicked you out for being too much of a cum guzzling slut. Or just give them the old thousand yard stare and say you don’t walk to talk about it. You do you.”

Elena looked down at herself, at the pitiful husk that had once been an athlete in the prime of her life and was now little more than a living fleshlight, and shuddered, tears appearing in her eyes. “But I… Master, how am I supposed to… to go back like this…?”

Toilets get like this sometimes when you let them go. You’d think they’d all bolt for the exit as fast their emaciated limbs could carry them, but Elena had spent the last few years repressing all her wants and needs, and devoting herself to fulfilling mine instead. The prospect of suddenly being cut loose, forced to make all her own decisions again without someone to just tell her what to do, was about as terrifying as anything I’d ever done to her.

I sighed and looked up from the phone to give her a reassuring smile. “It’s not as bad as it looks, I promise. Unless you count the piercings and the tattoos, I never did anything that left permanent damage. Plenty of bed rest, nutrients, and some physical therapy, you’ll be right as rain. Physically, anyway. Mentally, you’ll probably need therapy for years, and chances are you’ll either decide that you love taking cock now, or that you hate it more than you ever did; I’m no therapist, your guess is as good as mine which way you’ll land.

“But minds are pretty resilient, and you’ve never lacked for determination. I think if you put your head down and work on yourself, you’ll find yourself smiling and enjoying life again in no time. Your time down here will fade into the background, until it’s just something unpleasant you had to go through once. And I want you to know, Elena, that I’m genuinely rooting for you to recover from all this, to return to the vibrant, powerful, confident young woman you once were. I sincerely hope that you can heal and get over every last trauma I have ever inflicted on you, and come out stronger than ever as a result.”

My smile widened. “Because if and when you do, I’m going to show up to break you down all over again.”

Elena’s fucking technique was impeccable, but it was that look of sheer misery in her eyes as she began to sob that sent me over the edge. I groaned as I came inside the beautiful sobbing woman for what was probably, but not necessarily, the last time. Her cunt milked my dick just like I’d trained it to, until it had wrung out every last drop and my member was soft and happy inside her. “Mmm,” I purred. “I think you really were my favorite toilet.”

Then I gave her a hard slap across the face. “Now get out, slut, I haven’t got all night. And try not to drip on the carpet.”