Training Log: Week 25 Day 7
Annabel couldn't afford to let her mind ponder too far from her task but one thought just kept popping back into her head. It would have been so easy for him to grab the back of head and hold her down. He could even have grabbed a handful of her freshly washed blonde hair and held her in place or take hold of her ears and used them as handlebars. Anything would have been a godsend. Being so out of it from a lack of air, she would have instantly have fallen in love with the trainer, wanting him to have her babies if only he were to show her the smallest of kindnesses.
But that would be missing the point of her graduation exam. She had to pass the barrage of impossible test alone without assistance, even if she died trying. They had made her go through each trail trail separately beforehand but those had been purposefully toned down, making sure that she couldn't properly prepare.
Using all her strength of will to keep herself choking on the guard's cock, she continued to skullfuck herself for him, pleasing him with the sensation that the folds of her throat provided. Annabel was expected to keep going until she passed out with Poppy looming behind her, ready to tighten the rope that was wrapped around her neck once she made this man cum.
She was being tested to see how many blowjobs she could give with a single breath. Incredibly, she had actually managed two, the last time they had let her practice. But those men hadn't just came in her ass. They had been rock hard and ready to cum down her gullet, not soft and requiring her to beg for them to get erect.
"He's close," she told herself, pushing away the silly thought that he might help her. Annabel just had to push herself only a tiny bit more.
She could feel his pre-cum already on her tongue and the way his balls were rumbling as she massaged them gently in her hand. The realisation that there wouldn't be any celebratory parade for her began to creep in as brutally ravished her own throat. There wouldn't even be a round of applause. Not for a slave that was that broken and submissive. Just another cock that would choke her until she finally did faint and unfortunately for Annabel, she was used to holding her breath for a very very long time.
The fact that she didn't have a gag reflex came as a curse. Sure, she wasn't dying as his angry serpent made her neck bulge, but it meant that she had to fake it, acting like she was dry heaving and forcing her pleading vocal cords to make loud gagging sounds. For the most part, her acting was perfect, making deepthroating noises that would make pornstar jealous. The only thing that wasn't accurate was how long she had managed to last.
Her mind screamed at her to get this over with, knowing full well that a marathon of sexual abuse was still awaiting her. The exam had started of brutally and would maintain that level of cruelty to the end. Annabel had began the day holding a tray that had a glass of water on it. She was to keep it balanced and not spill a drop while a total of five trainers repeatedly zapped her with cattle-prods.
After that, she had to use a vibrator on herself, furiously pressing it on her clit whilst she told everyone what a worthless cunt she was. She wasn't allowed to cum of course. In fact, Annabel hadn't been allowed to achieve an orgasm for months, regardless of how much they tormented her pussy with pleasure. Orgasming was strictly forbidden for her, made apparent by the 175 lashes that she then had to endure - one for every day she had failed to meet the high standards that were demanded of her.
Then came her nipple burning where needles were stabbed directly down into innocent pink peaks. This wasn't normally part of the graduation exam but had been added just for Annabel in order to punish her for not having large breasts. Her perky tits were sure perfect to bite, pinch and cane, but they were found wanting in size to be gratifying when whipping or slapping them.
They had her hold lit candles to where the needles stuck out, making her heat up the thin metal knives. She had wallowed in agony during the game when they timed her to see how long she could last, forcing her to keep going whilst they moved onto the next test where her ass was repeatedly raped. Annabel had to make her asshole as tight as she possibly could, having been ordered to not let a drop of cum leak out. She was to make herself into a container that was storing a future meal.
And that brought her back to now with a cock lodged deep down her throat. It felt like she was drinking champagne when the man finally did cum, so much so that she didn't need to fake gratitude or happiness. Her affection for the man cumming was genuine, scaring her as she wondered whether her life had reached such a low that she would grow feelings for anyone who was generous enough to rape her.
On the Stage for the final auction.
If Annabel had been expecting or even hoping for an epic bidding war to own her sexy ass, then she was rather disappointed. The bids had come it rapidly at first, growing from than insultingly low 50,000. The auction master had been kept busy, frantically scanning the room to make sure he didn't miss a raised hand.
That all changed when Mr Anderson started bidding. Most knew about just how wealthy he was and figured that they couldn't out bid him. They were disappointed but accepted the reality of the situations. Others at least tried to dent his bank account, even if the auctioning process was now more a matter of procedure than anything else.
The thought of being owned by Mr Anderson scared the life out of Annabel. He had been her father's business rival and the two of them absolutely hatred each other. He had a son, Annabel was pretty sure about that but she didn't know much else about him other than that. She didn't need to know much more about him other than that. What she knew for certain was that he had been the one who had sampled her asshole the hardest.
Out of the two dozen men that had left her pooper gaping wide and bleeding, Mr Anderson had the accolade of having been the roughest. Hearing the gavel being hammered down rung so loudly in Annabel's ears that it threatened to deafen her. She came so close to loosing her composure and crying.
Hardly being able to walk, certainly not with any degree of grace, they had her crawl over to her new owner. Bowing her head, keeping her gaze to the floor as she fought back tears that didn't make sense to her. Annabel didn't understand why she was so upset all of a sudden. She had known this was coming. What difference did it actually make to be sold officially when she was already a lowly sex slave.
"Hello master," she addressed him, feeling strange to call another person her master. Being his property, a thing that he owned. There was death certificate in the name, Annabel Kelly, that was singed and dated. It said that she had died 5 months ago. In truth though, Annabel Kelly had survived right until this moment.
She was dead now and that was all that really mattered. All that remained was a obedient set of fuck holes that was eager to serve, despite of how miserable she appeared to be.
"Thank you for choosing to buy me. This cunt is yours now until the day I either die or you choose to get rid of me."
If owning a girl was a new experience for Mr Anderson, he definitely didn't show it. From his lack of expression, buying her seemed to be no different to than buying an expensive wine. Perhaps it was less of an experience for him. He might have actually been excited by the bottle of rich red.
Annabel had thought that he had found her attractive enough whilst he was punishing her asshole but now wasn't too sure. The thought that he didn't find her pretty made Annabel more afraid than the brandishing of any whip. If he thought she was beautiful, he would rape her. But if not. She didn't want to think about what happened to slave girls who weren't able to please their masters.
"Do you want to find out what it feels to have your master fuck you?" He asked with indifference.
Another flood of fear shot through her heart after she heard his words. They drowned her in a sea of emotions, isolating her soul, dividing her mind into two. A part of her did. It was what she had been made to wait for. To be deflowered by the man who had brought her. An even bigger part of her didn't want it. That part wondered what was wrong with her to want it.
"Yes master," she answered him, nodding her head like a good kitty.
"Then start removing that thread."
He was talking about the string that was sewed through her labia, sealing away access to Annabel's last and only remaining source of innocence. In all her life, she never imagined that she would be so willing to give it up so easily.
"Certainly master. Please allow this cunt to find a knife to cut the threads free."
"That won't be necessary." He replied stopping her before she had the chance to move. "Just tear the string out."
Annabel froze at his command, not understanding what he meant. She didn't know what she should do next. Should she ask him to clarify? Would that seem like she was being rude?
"This...this cunt doesn't understand master."
Finally a change of expression came over Mr Anderson's face. He smiled at her before pushing her onto her back. His hands then went to where her trembling thighs meant her crotch.
"Let me show you." He said and then proceeded to make Annabel scream.
On the anniversary of the accident that took the lives of Mr and Mrs Kelly.
Annabel let out a sobbing moan as her master viciously pounded into her from behind. Her cunt was already so sore from the night before, causing this early morning raping to be especially unpleasant. Not that sex with Mr Anderson was ever remotely pleasant.
Rape wasn't so much about sex as it was a mutilation of her cunt. He liked finding different ways to hurt her there. It was all the better if the damage was permanent but anything could and would happen, as long as it hurt her. The fact that her rape was relatively vanilla was something that Annabel should have been thankful for but having sex in public did nothing but bring her anxiety.
She didn't have anything to fear though. Mr Anderson would have made sure that their time in their cemetery was private and undisturbed. She tried to get into it for him, trying to gift her master the sensation that would have come if she was actually enjoying this but Annabel didn't know anything about how to fuck without it hurting her.
Slicing off her clit and feeding it to her during their very first time had seen to that. There was never any arousal during her countless sessions of being used as a cocksleave. A fleshlight wasn't supposed to feel anything but the straining and tearing of her soft and delicate folds.
She felt the slab of granite though. Her thighs and stomach definitely could feel that as she slammed against it again and again. It was amazing how much a beautifully crafted piece of stone could contribute to utterly destroying her, both in body and mind. The weight of what she was being bent over came to her every time she felt the slab, filling her slave girl heart with a deep sense of mourning.
This was something else. Crueller than she had thought anyone could imagine. There was pissing on someone's grave and then there was this. Fucking a man's daughter over his gravestone after having spent an hour whipping her by a nearby oak tree.
Being here made Annabel do things that she generally spent her life avoiding. This place forced her to think of her mother and father. She thought about Poppy and then she thought of the life that she had had before all of this. In time, she had learnt that nothing was as painful as her memories. It was better to not think about them but she couldn't stop herself from doing so when here.
The force that her master drove into her fail body became even more violent as he got close. Soon it felt like the granite marker would break, crumbling apart to pieces under their shared weight. She was desperate for him to cum, needing so badly for this humiliation to be over.
Diligently, she carried out the task of wringing out a load from his musky balls, devoting all of her effort into making him cum. Good. He was grunting like a wild-boar, making the same unpleasant noise that he always did when we was about to explode inside of her.
Now all she needed was to feel his fists. Yes. There it was. He had punched her back so many times that it almost felt good to her. The fact that he almost always came soon after making her spine buckle and crack, caused feeling his heavy knuckles to have an almost euphoric effect. If only it didn't hurt so much.
Mr Anderson laughed at Annabel as he shot his seed into her ruined cunt. He laughed at his slave who was broken beyond repair. The wretched teen who did everything he told her to, only to treated like shit. He laughed at the fact that he was wrecking her over her family's gravesite.
Annabel supposed she should have been grateful to him. He had been kind enough to let her wear black. A black slave collar and a massive black buttplug. When he pulled out of her, one final squirt of cum from his cock was fired, landing onto where her mothers name was engraved into the stone.
She collapsed in unison as the smudge of semen began to drip down, exhausted beyond the point of being able to move. It was therefore fortunate that she didn't need to. Mr Anderson was a lot of things. A sadist. A monster. But he was also a man of his word. He left Annabel alone by the gravesite that he had just desiccated. That they had desiccated.
Slowly, she regained enough strength to lift up her head, rushing a little as she knew that she wouldn't have much time alone. Her tongue went straight to the cumshot and she licked the family's gravestone clean, noticing that the pearl of cum had now drooled down to where her name was cut across the smooth surface.
"Hi mom. Hi dad. Sorry for not visiting sooner but I'm not really allowed out of the house too often. Well, house a vague term. I'm not allowed out of the torture dungeon too often."
She picked up a few leaves and started to clear them away from the site, acting like if she was a normal daughter that was mourning her parents.
"Oh but I don't want you to worry. Wherever you are. It's not all bad I suppose. I have a nice cramp cage to sleep in and I get a pet bowl of dog food every other day. And there's also all the amount of cum that I get to swallow. You used to say that I didn't eat enough, mum. Now I lick clean anything that I'm given."
There was a long eerie silence afterwards as Annabel struggled to come up with anything else to say. She had never had a chance to properly progress her grief, having been forced to abandon it. Now she didn't know how to handle it. Thinking like a person rather than an object was like speaking in a foreign language for her. She had forgotten how to do it.
"When I do get to go out though, the trips are always...memorable. Did you know Mr Anderson owns a yacht? It's even bigger than yours dad. Do you know what keelhauling is? Of course you do. You were always a lot smarter than me. I didn't know what it was until I got to experience it. I experienced a lot on that trip. I'm a real girl of the sea now." She told her parents, adding a silly joke at the end to make it sound less tragic.
"And you'll be happy to know that your business is still doing well. Record profits under Mr Anderson's control. I don't think your old business partners liked you very much. Don't worry though. They can now take out all their frustrations out on me whenever I'm providing entertainment during business meetings. I learn so much from attending them. Like how it feels to be used as a dartboard."
Annabel then looked around for any indicator of time but could find nothing. She would have to leave soon. After all, it was better to be safe than sorry.
"I have to go now." She told them, wrapping her arms around their gravestone to hug them goodbye. She felt no one hugging her back in return. "I love you and I miss you both so much."
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Topic: Trained and Auctioned Poor Little Rich Girl (Read 2420 times)