Competition Breeds Excellence in Captivity

Zarina was my first of my sex slaves and so I learned a lot from her. I learned which instruments of torture hurt more than others. I learned where the line was between causing a lot of pain to a woman’s body, and causing permanent damage. I also learned about the more boring logistics and risks associated with capturing and keeping a sex slave alive for the foreseeable future. I had been in several perfectly healthy and normal long-term relationships, so I thought I had a decent sense of the issues and periodic changes that come with being a female. But, yeah, I can say I did not appreciate how hard it is to be a girl, much less a sex slave in restraints, until I had to care for her basic needs. 

So, yes, I got a lot wrong at first, and Zarina had to suffer for it. I know she will never be truly happy, but she is no longer suicidally depressed, like she was when first learning what it meant to be my slave. What matters to me is that Zarina and my other girls are still here after all this time, and her mind and body are in about as good shape as could be hoped for. I see signs that they are more at ease now, and have come to accept the life of a sex slave who has to compete to avoid future torture. 

I knew from the start that my slaves’ mental health was going to take as much of a beating as Zarina’s body, so I had a hypothesis on how to help both recover. This working principle was that she had to always hold out a little hope, to feel like she had a fighting chance to get out of every situation. My plan was to initially debilitate her physically and mentally through harrowing rape and torture, and then gradually start giving her chances to end or avoid further pain, by setting up predicaments and sexual challenges. In order to keep that hope alive, she would have to come to trust that I would keep my word if she met my goals. Thus, I swore to always be honest with her. 

The fantasy life I was creating would demand that all my slaves pretend to be lascivious masochists. But if I gave Zarina a choice between two different kinds of torture, I wanted to learn which one she dreaded more, and how her body was really doing. So there would be times when I also demanded that my slaves let the mask slip, and that both could and should be honest with me.

I am aroused by seeing girls in any kind of great pain, so letting the girls pick their lesser of two objectively wicked torments took nothing away from the greatest thrill in the black heart of man like me. More importantly, it would give my slave girls a reason to live on because they knew that it could always be worse—having experienced the worst while being broken down during their initial training. With Zarina as my first, I feared her heart would give up if I just constantly caused her horrible pain without rhyme or reason. 

This hypothesis came out of something I learned in a classified military course about prisoners of war. The POWs who lost hope were the first to die. They either got themselves killed, or their bodies simply gave out. I cannot talk much about the training I received in that course, but suffice to say, it confirmed I am no switch. What was eye-opening was how I saw the psychological techniques break some very hard men much faster than any of the physical punishments. Even POWs who have suffered some of the worst torture in history have agreed on that. Moreover, what I went through was very mild compared to what I would put my girls through, and back then we knew the rough part of our training would only last a few days. 

Beyond simply forcing my girls to choose between the lesser of two evils when it came to sex and torment everyday, I wanted to occasionally show them some care and understanding. I have yet to find myself in love with any of my slaves, but I do worry about their long-term well-being in body and spirit. I know this is strange for a torturer to write. 

I guess, in actuality, some might say my motivation was selfish at its core: I wanted to keep them looking beautiful and willing to make an effort in my sexual games everyday, for as long as possible. Even I am haunted by the poor souls I saw in the third-world after years of captivity and harsh treatment. Times of basic hardship are imprinted on the human body forever, to say nothing of torture. Their faces. Their eyes. Their instincts. The way they cowered even when they were being rescued. It was not sexy. Sometimes I realized that the women who were saved used to be beautiful.

I knew my girls would always hate me and constantly be on the lookout for an escape or a way to take revenge, at a minimum. Nonetheless, part of my working hypothesis was that simply treating them as a normal human being every now and then would slow them from turning to suicide or harming me. Along the same lines, for as long as I can remember, I have always been interested in what makes people tick. This curiosity served me well in my military career and subsequent success in the business world. I found that I could build a reasonably accurate judgment of what someone was going to do, if I got to know them first. I need my mental and physical breaks from sex and torture too, even if I am the one who is on the enjoying end. So I used these times to talk to my sex slaves as people, and not only treat them like pieces of meat.

I cannot point to the exact start of my interest in sexual sadism, but I think it is important to note that in my prior life I hid all signs that I was a sadist. If anything, I am something of the opposite. Sure, as a soldier who went into combat, I killed other human beings in gruesome fashions. But I took no joy or sexual gratification from those acts and memories, only relief that I had eliminated an immediate threat to me and my brothers-in-arms. 

From a broader perspective: I joined the military and volunteered for a well-known elite unit because I earnestly wanted to protect innocent people all over the world. I was glad to capture or kill men who I thought were truly evil. That is not to say I had any delusions about the overall impact of the Western foreign policy. I was sick of politics before I even joined, and no one wants to hear more about that stuff here. The point is, I recognize the hypocrisy in capturing and continuing to torture young girls. Nothing can absolve me. But, from the start, I tried to select targets who would keep me from looking in the mirror and seeing one of the monsters who I used to hunt down.

Of course, no one deserves what I have done to these girls. I granted quick deaths to a few of the cruelest and most prolific killers and terrorists in the world. If those men did not deserve to suffer, then no one does. All I can say is that choosing girls who at least benefitted from bad activities is narrowly enough to assuage my conscience. It is not much, but I did my research and avoided targeting anyone truly innocent. Not surprisingly, out in the real world, there are relatively few complicit women who are also fairly young and very pretty. Nevertheless, in time, one by one, I found some who came close enough for me.