Competition Breeds Excellence in Captivity

So training phase began. Opening the channel of communication between us felt like it should be an important moment in Zarina’s training as a sex slave. Therefore I did not want my first words to be a technical question about the remaining hairs from a stinging plant. Instead, I wanted to set the tone and expectations for her new life. She needed to realize that her training was about to enter a distinct new chapter, even if it would understandably feel like more of the same intolerable rape and torture. This would be a lot for anyone to take in all at once, so I consciously anticipated that I would have to repeat myself. I kept the message simple:

“Are you ready to begin your training as my sex slave?”

Zarina face froze and she looked as if she had just been woken up. Her mouth was agape but no sound came out for several moments. Then she started to cry loudly for the first time that day, and kept her eyes were fixed on mine. I said nothing and remained expressionless. Finally her voice formed the word: 

“Why…?!”

Of all the things Zarina could have said, I would never forget that her first choice was to ask ‘why?’ In the weeks that followed it proved to be a telling response and made a lot of sense as I learned how her mind worked. She was not answering my question, but who could ever be ready to be trained as a sex slave? 

“I am not surprised that you did not answer my question, though you will be punished for your failure momentarily. Still, I will answer yours: because I want to.”

The horror of my whole answer spread across Zarina’s face and registered as in the pitch of her scream. She jerked against her restraints like she wanted to get so much as an inch further away from me. Her voice was raspy from weeks of screaming and soon the decibels faded. I began with some pre-planned exposition: 

“Surely, none of this can be surprising by now? You must realize that you have little choice in this matter, because I am forcing you submit to my will. If you choose to resist and delay the start of your training, then you will continue to be tortured and the brutality was increase, until you do submit. However, if I see signs that you are accepting the life of my sex slave, you will still be tortured many times per day, but you will at least have the chance to lessen or even avoid some punishments, so long as you follow my instructions and come up with ways to make me happy.”

Zarina kept crying out and rattling against her restraints, but I thought I saw my words registering in her eyes. So I went on:

“Before we begin, I will ask you how your body feels from time to time, and I need you to be honest with me. You may feel the urge to lie to me, or perhaps the options will equally seem like the worst of fates, but I will have my ways of checking the truth. ”

“You’re killing me…,” Zarina croaked out her first real response.

“Look in the mirror,” I said calmly.

Zarina shook her head slightly and her cheeks contorted. I had caught her looking wide-eyed in horror at her reflection in past days, as if she could not even recognize herself or believe what her body had become. All the same, I had to set the precedent from the start that my every order was to be obeyed. I grabbed a nearby bucket and filled it from a tub of ice water in one fell swoop. Zarina spotted the motion out of the corner of her eye and started to shriek before the frigid contents were dumped over her from head to between her legs. 

“You will learn to do what I want. Even before I tell you to. Look.” 

This was a theme I would have to drum home. Zarina was shivering violently and her teeth were chattering too loudly to expect a response. But she looked up at herself in the mirror and almost froze for real. I turned around to face the same mirror and put my arm on her shoulder. Zarina tried to twist away from my touch. It was probably the first time I had touched her without trying to cause her pain or for my own sexual gratification.

“Yes, it looks as if you are dying. But I have been careful, and you are not dead yet. I want you as a sex slave, not to murder as a confirmed kill.”

We both stared at Zarina’s image in the reflection for a while. I have to say I was not proud of my work or what my urges had driven me to do. But I solemnly felt it was necessary to get what I wanted, and I will freely confess that I enjoyed every moment of reducing her to that state. Finally she broke the silence with a whisper:

“Please…no more torture….” 

Zarina stared up at my face in the mirror with plaintive eyes, as if I was Medusa and she was Perseus avoiding my stare directly. I think we both knew that her plea was futile, and her brain may have registered a gleam in my eye as I enjoyed how she begged. 

“Will you answer my questions about how you are feeling?”

Zarina squeezed her eyes shut and gave short, rapid nods.

“Right now, I specifically need to know whether I got all the hairs from that plant out. Do any parts of your skin still hurt from that?”

“I don’t know!” Zarina sniveled in her accented English, “I hurt so bad all over….” 

“Now now, you must remember the specific pain of that plant….”

“Aman, I’ll never forget it….” Zarina screwed up her face and shook her head. “You have to let me know if any parts of your body start feeling that particular sting again.”

The words started spilling out of Zarina’s mouth, and to this day, they have not really stopped: 

“Uh…uh…I don’t think so, right now. Those leaves sting so much! They’re like nothing else—and you’ve tortured me in so many ways! That stinging didn’t stop the whole night…I couldn’t even dream of sleep…. Nothing else you’ve done to me has hurt so incessantly and all over my poor, poor body like that…. But maybe those hairs are still there and you’ve burned my nerve endings off with that sulfur smelling acid…?”

“Then you would not feel any pain in those spots.”

“Then definitely not….” 

Zarina’s chin dropped to her chest as her voice got very small. My immediate question had been answered and I felt good about the new direction in Zarina’s life as a sex slave. This should be easier, for both of us, from now on. With a little pep in my throat, I said: 

“So, to begin your training, I will punish you for not answering my first question.”

Zarina’s wails made me think of the Irish legend of the banshee that warns of impending death in a house.