Competition Breeds Excellence in Captivity

My third month of owning a sex slave was drawing to a close, and I needed to fly off the island to restock on supplies. My estimates for consumption had not been far off, but of course there were things I had not anticipated and there were Zarina’s mail order items to retrieve. In addition to Zarina’s new selections for pet food, hormone control, and sports bras, she had drawn up a very long list of makeup supplies, soaps and shampoos, sunscreen, moisturizers, and other personal care products to keep looking her best. I had a year’s emergency supply for half a dozen people stashed away in another vault on the island, but I did not want to touch that unless I really had to. 

Our days were becoming the same as any other, to my elation, so I started planning my trip. One morning seemed as good as any other, so in the days before leaving I thoroughly emptied my balls past the point of discomfort and got some especially wicked ideas out of my system. That morning I double checked Zarina’s restraints and ran through my departure checklist again. Then I announced it:

“I’m leaving you this large bag of food. I’m guessing you have a sense by now of how much of each I expect you to consume regularly.” 

I didn’t feel the need to make my threat any more explicit.

“Wait, you’re leaving? How long will you be gone?”

“Honestly, I can’t say for sure. Do you even have a sense of time in here?”

“No, not really,” Zarina paused. “I mean, I assume you’re on a roughly normal schedule of meals and sleep 6-8 hours at nighttime, so I kind of use those as markers.”

“Well, just be ready at any time for me to return. I don’t only mean that as a threat to eat and stay hydrated. Wear a sports bra, unless you’re taking a cold shower. The short chain between your ankles stays on, but I’m leaving one of your hands free so you can keep yourself clean and looking pretty.”

“—Yes master,” she interjected by rote.

“This is a good chance for your body to heal.”

“—Thank you master.” Zarina then dropped the robotic response, “No seriously, I need this. I hurt all over and inside. You have no idea what it’s like…. I was thinking I would never get a break of more than a few hours.” 

“Don’t count on it.” 

The relief that had started to dawn on Zarina’s face washed away.

I continued, “Use the disinfectant on your cuts and burns. I don’t care that I’m won’t get to witness how much it stings—neither of us want to deal with an infection.” 

I said motioning to the series of weights on the side, “Take these as recovery days from your workouts. That means ice baths every day, still. You know how long I expect you to stay under and set the timers for. You better keep up with the mobility and flexibility stretches to work out soreness and prevent injury in future stress positions. I’m going to test your flexibility and your holes better be tighter when I get back.” 

Zarina grimaced at the mention of “ice baths” and “future stress positions,” then paused her breath when I mentioned a ‘test.’ She seemed to forget to respond. I thought it was more important to let her mind focus on the fear, and turned around and left the room, watching the bedroom door lock behind me. 

From my office upstairs, I watched Zarina on camera as I finished packing and double checked that I was ready to fly. As soon as I left, she had shuffled over, poured herself a dog food bowl worth of water, and then drank it down. She then scooped out a probably larger than usual serving of pet food and methodically ate pinches one after the other. I was curious to see whether she would lick her fingers, hands, and the bowl like I forced her to. She did do a thorough job of scraping up her bowl and sucking up the larger chunks on her free hand, but then stopped and I saw her shoulders relax as she exhaled. Zarina had caught herself and did not feel any pressure to live up to my standards when I was not there. She got up and washed the bowl and her hand. I didn’t feel the need to punish her for that later—when it came to degradation it was only her performances in front of me were what made a difference. 

Much more important to me was that thus far I hadn’t seem any sign that Zarina knew I was watching and listening in when she was ostensibly alone. While I wanted to preserve that advantage over her to catch any plot to harm to me, commit suicide, or escape, I also was resigned to the probability that the existence of the surveillance system would eventually come out. I also considered it likely that she just assumed she was always being watched and acted accordingly. Zarina had already shown to me that she was a sharp girl.