Heather Read online

  The clinic was spotless. Celia led her to a screened in area and told her to undress. She was then told to lie down on what appeared to be the kind of table gynecologist’s use. A” Mexican doctor wearing a surgical mask indicated she should spread her legs and put her feet in the raised stirrups. A nurse injected her with something.

  She awoke an hour later. Her labial lips were sore. She sat up and lifted the sheet that had covered her. The nurse watched her from across the room. Heather parted her legs and examined herself. Just under the surface of each labial lip she noticed a tiny disk about the size of an M&M. As the General had said, there was a small cage covering her clitoris.

  That night she was given a sedative. Before drifting off to sleep she was aware of Carmella at her bedside and then Carmella staring into her eyes and mumbling. Her dream was more real than it had ever been before. It was of the General. She saw him as a handsome young man, strong and fierce, riding a great white horse and brandishing a sword. She saw him middle aged surrounded by lovely young women who were naked.

  They were kissing him and taking turns sucking his huge stiff cock. Then he was fucking them. His cock remained hard. They screamed with pleasure. Finally, there was just his face as he is now. It filled her mind. His piercing blue eyes stared at her. She appeared in the dream kneeling before him. When he spoke his voice was deep and authoritative. “You will, under my direction, finally know who you are. You will be trained as an instrument of pleasure. You will be trained to serve and to serve will be your only desire. You will wish only to obey and to serve.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said. The dream seemed to repeat several times with slight variations.

  In the morning she woke refreshed and knowing her pussy was wet. Her nipples were painfully hard. She reached to rub her clit and was dismayed when her finger touched the small screened cage that covered it. The girl, Anita, brought her breakfast. When she finished eating Madam Celia entered her room. “Your training begins today,” she said.

  “Three hours in the gym, then lunch. Two hours of language instruction. Two hours of stimulation and sex training. Two hours to shower have massage and prepare yourself for the evening.” Every other day you will have a private meeting with the General. On some evenings you will serve dinner in the main dining room. On some evenings you will be whipped. On other evenings you will be used for the pleasure of the General and his guests. At bedtime you will receive a small injection from Carmella and listen to her words. In time the power of the injections will be reduced until they are no longer needed. It’s expected that by then Carmella’s suggestions will no longer be necessary.”

  Her training proceeded as she’d been told. She soon found that she enjoyed the classes. Although her body was beautiful before the rigorous exercises began she was aware that the trainers were sculpturing it; smaller waist, higher firmer breasts, perfectly rounded ass, perfectly formed legs. She was stronger without being muscular. During these physical training sessions she often caught sight of Martin who stood in the doorway watching her intently. She thought she might be taught Italian and French. Instead the language instruction was in Russian, Arabic, Chinese, Japanese, and Korean. She was a quick learner but these were very difficult. Of course, she was instructed in only the fundamentals. She guessed the buyers at the auction were from the Middle East or the Asian countries. Madam Celia assured her she was right. “They are rich, very rich men who view women rather differently than men in Europe or America,” she said.

  Heather frowned, “More like objects.”

  “Exactly,” Madam Celia replied.

  She looked forward to the sexual stimulation classes. Four young Mexican boys were directed by Madam Celia in ways to stimulate Heather’s body. The boys were, she guessed, about fourteen or fifteen years old. They bathed her and rubbed her body with perfumed oils. They did not kiss her but sucked her nipples and her fingers and toes. When she was well lubricated one of them would insert a dildo into her vagina. Madam Celia made her contract her vaginal opening until she was able to tighten it around the dildo. They exercised her anus in the same way. In time she was able to “milk” the dildos without moving her body. At the end of each daily session she was given lessons in providing oral pleasure. Two of the four boys were rewarded by having their cocks teased and sucked in ways that were increasingly pleasurable. After the first week Madam Celia nodded in approval, “You’ve very quickly mastered the art of delaying ejaculation, thus prolonging the experience.” Heather felt herself blushing at the compliment.

  On an afternoon at the end of the second week, she was dressed as if she were going on a date, lunch at a fine restaurant with a handsome young man. She wore no undergarments. Celia laid out a lacy white transparent blouse, a black narrow tight skirt, and a jacket to match. She slid her bare feet into black pumps with the requisite five inch heel. She took a long time at the make up table until she felt satisfied she looked desirable but not cheap. She’d been informed earlier that she was to have an interview with the General at four o’clock. The dreams had continued each night growing in intensity until now just the mention of his name started the electric feelings flowing toward her crotch. She was no longer at all sure of her independent spirit. When she dared to ask herself the question, ‘What do I really want?’ the answer now was, ‘To serve my Master” the General.’” It had turned out as he said it would:” The dreams, the hypnosis, her own need to submit. She finally had to admit to it.

  As before, the General sat behind his desk. Heather stood next to the straight wooden chair before it. To actually see him, to be in his presence made her heart pound. She could feel the secretions moisten her pussy. Her legs trembled. He motioned for her to sit.

  She did wanting to spread her legs for him, but he hadn’t indicated she should so she kept them together. His crystal blue eyes burned into her. “I’ve had reports that your training has gone well,” he said. She felt the color rise to her cheeks. He smiled slightly. “How have you changed these last few weeks?”

  She had trouble finding her voice, “I-I’ve become more physically fit and...and I’ve begun to learn different languages.”

  “Is that all? What about your sexual training? What about your independent spirit? What about your absolute refusal to be sold as a slave?”

  It was a full minute before she could answer. “I’ve been trained to give sexual pleasure in a variety of ways using my mouth, and my...my cunt, and my anal opening. I’ve also been trained to deny myself pleasure unless the man or woman using me gives permission.”

  He nodded, “Go on.”

  She looked at her hands folded in her lap then up at him. “You are my Master. If...if it pleases you to...to...sell me as a slave I will not object. My...my wish is to please you.”

  He leaned forward and pointed to her knees. Quickly she parted her legs exposing her wet pussy to him. “Ahh, yes,” he said, “just as I thought. The idea of being owned excites you, it excites you like nothing else ever has?” It was a question.

  She bowed her head and nodded saying softly, “Yes, Master, it does.”

  He sat back in his chair observing her for a few minutes. “I’m afraid I have some troubling news,” he said. She looked up and saw that he was frowning. He continued, “As I explained there will be three men at the auction. You will spend a night with each of them and service them in any way they desire during the day. On the fifth day they will bid and you will be sold to the highest bidder. These men are foreigners, old, arrogant, and mean. They will look upon you as they look upon their expensive cars or yachts. You will be another of their possessions. They will not only expect you to service them and their friends, they’ll want you to be an object, a possession that other men like themselves desire. Whoever buys you will want to make his friends and others like him envious. So, as a slave you will do whatever it takes to make that happen.” He paused.

  She felt her heart sinking, “I-I...understand,” she whispered.

  He leaned forward cla
sping his hands on his desk. “I received word today that a fourth buyer will be coming. I don’t like the man. He’s most cruel. I had deliberately excluded him. But he is very powerful and extremely rich. He’s revered and feared as the king of a large area of Nigeria. He’s a huge ugly black man who has, I believe, one American slave. She is an American in her early thirties. She left her husband and two children in order to be his slave. She’s devoted to him.” He wants another younger American woman. Although I resisted, the other members of our organization insisted he be invited. He had probably pressured them financially or physically. In the end, I had to agree. Like me, he is a general. His name is General Shuka. He seemed especially interested in the DVD’s of you and this bonobo you married. Those DVD’s were sent to all members of the organization.” He shook his head, “I’m sorry I did that.”

  Tears had formed in Heather’s eyes, “Do you...do you...think he...this General Shuka will outbid the others?”

  “I’m sure he will. This is a man to be feared. He gets what he wants.”

  “Is there nothing you can do to prevent him from buying me?”

  Again he shook his head slowly, “All members of the organization have agreed to honor the rules we established. So far, everyone has. The entry fee into the slave buying cartel is in the millions of dollars. Just the richest and most powerful men in the world can join. I am not close to the top of the list. Only four will be coming here to bid, but there are at least twenty men in the organization. It was my turn to find and present a young woman worthy to become one of their slaves. That’s when I discovered you. You are not only an American, highly prized, but an extraordinarily beautiful and well educated one. The most intriguing thing about you is, of course, the fact that you were married to a member of the ape family.”

  “But,” she dared to interrupt, “he was a successful experiment of my uncle’s in cross breeding. He was part bonobo part human.”

  “I understand. But that doesn’t change things. These men will see you as a special acquisition because you have mated with what they consider an ape.”

  She leaned forward, the tears streaming down her cheeks, “Please, please, Master, don’t let them buy me. Can’t you outbid them and take me for yourself? I will be most obedient and devote my life to pleasing you.” She paused looking down then up into his blue eyes, “I...I...think without ever having spent time with you, I’ve come to...to...love you.”

  His face softened and, for a moment, it seemed as if he was going to reach toward her, but suddenly he drew back. “As the host of the auction, I am not permitted to bid. Even if I were I couldn’t outbid any of the men who will attend.”

  She was silent for several minutes trying to get control of her fear. She spoke softly, “Perhaps one of the others then. Anyone but this monster General Shuka? What are they like?”

  “There is an Afghani with close ties to the Taliban. He’s a major dealer in the opium trade. His name is Rashid. He’s in his sixties. His specialty is a brood of pony girls.

  These girls are trained as ponies. They are treated well, but live mostly in stalls and eat and drink from troughs as ponies do. They are trained vigorously to race pulling light weight carts carrying a driver who whips them. They are made to look like beautiful ponies; harnesses, the bit, a flowing tail inserted into their anal openings. When they aren’t being trained, they are often brought to the main house to service Taliban officers and soldiers. If Rashid could provide these ruthless murderers with a beautiful American pony girl to use and to whip, it would enhance his reputation immeasurably. I’m sure he will bid as much as he can.”

  Heather shook her head, “It’s inhuman. Women are not horses. And to be given to the Taliban is unthinkable.”

  “I remind you that your bonobo was not a man, or half man until your uncle made him one. After a few months the women accept their transformation. They accept fully what they’ve become. They compete fiercely in the races. They welcome time away from their stalls in the bedrooms of the estate even if it means suffering terrible abuse at the hands of these Afghani terrorists.”

  “And the others?” she asked.

  “I don’t know much about the other two.” One is a Muslim from a small country in West Africa called Eritrea. He practically owns it; king, president, dictator all in one.

  He’s a huge fat Arab named Aleem. His specialty is transforming young women like yourself into twelve and thirteen year old girls. I understand he has a long and arduous training program designed to reverse the habits, attitudes, mind set. The finished product is a woman in her twenties who thinks and behaves and dresses like a young teenager, but a very disciplined teen. Although after the rigorous training they call him “Daddy” and think of him that way, their father, protector, provider, they also feel honored to satisfy his perverted and, I understand, constant sexual desires. I think it’s abhorrent but the people under his rule accept this aberration because his government sees to their basic needs.”

  “The slaves he purchases actually come to think of themselves as young teens? They dress and act and come to believe they are twelve or thirteen?”

  “Yes. I’ve never visited him nor wish to, but I have seen and heard video tapes of the training and the results.”

  “I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.”

  “In the beginning of the tapes that’s what each of the woman is saying. Three months later these same women, are teenagers. Except for the hair on their heads all other hair has been completely and permanently removed. They wear short pleated skirts, ballet slippers or flip flops, tight sweaters or shear blouses, lipstick and mascara. Their fingernails and toenails are painted. They giggle among themselves, listen to boy singers, and watch movies that appeal to teenage girls. They compete for opportunities to service their “Daddy”.

  “And you think this...this Aleem could make me one of them?”

  “I’m certain of it.”

  “The last of the buyers?”

  He shook his head, “I don’t know much about him. He’s very aloof and secretive. He’s as rich and powerful as General Shuka, perhaps more so. If anyone can outbid Shuka I would say it’s Mister Satomi, the Japanese. He has a number of what he prefers to call concubines instead of slaves, but they are slaves all the same and the most devoted and obedient of slaves. Everyone admires the way he has managed to take over the totality of the women he obtains. His concubines are the most beautiful of all. It’s obvious they worship him. They never take their eyes from him. They anticipate his every wish. They seem to live only to serve him and believe that is the greatest privilege they might ever aspire to. It is amazing to see such unconditional abject devotion. The training period is a full year. The transformation is as startling as it is real. It never diminishes. I’ve seen him with his latest acquisition, a stunningly beautiful young American woman. I believe her name is Mary Margaret. She was a novitiate beginning her training to be a nun when he took her. She has an exquisite pale body and very long blond wavy hair that comes down to her incredibly small waist. Men, me included, gasp when first they see her. It also becomes clear immediately that she worships her Master Satomi. I’ve heard rumors that she has a beautiful young aunt who escaped Satomi. No one has ever done that. I expect this aunt will be found and eventually become as devoted to him as her lovely young niece. No one escapes Satomi for very long.”

  Heather sat in silence for several minutes. The next time she looked at the General her tear filled eyes were blazing. “I won’t!” she shouted. “These men are perverted, insane, disgusting.”

  “They are,” he said.

  She leaned forward reaching across the desk to clasp his hands, “Oh please, General Cruiz, I will be your adoring slave or your adoring wife, please, please let me not be sold to one of these monsters!”

  He pulled back away from her, his face stern. “I cannot save you. Only you can do that by convincing the least perverted the least cruel of these men to buy you.”

  She sat back bowing her head. �
�Who might that be?”

  “I think the Japanese, Satomi. He’s the only one who can outbid Shuka. As far as I know, his concubines go through a year of severe training but afterwards, after they’ve learned to see themselves as objects meant to serve, they are treated rather well. Whipped often, of course, and made to service Satomi’s associates and friends, both male and female, but since they are without a will of their own, they don’t seem to mind.”

  “So if he buys me I am to become a mindless object?”

  “After a year at his training facility, that’s what you will be.” He stood. “Now you know what’s to happen here in two weeks. I’ve told you more about the buyers than I should have. I’ve said that, much as I now want to, I cannot help you. I’ve suggested you do whatever you can to cause Mr. Satomi to offer the highest bid. I believe anything would be better than becoming General Shuka’s possession.” He paused, “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m terribly sorry.” He rang for Madam Celia who appeared instantly to lead Heather back to her quarters.

  Chapter Eleven

  During the next two weeks Heather trained vigorously. The trainers worked hard to sculpt her body beautifully and proportionally. She became so skilled at retaining the dildos the young men had trouble pulling them from her vagina and anal passage. She could not only hold them there, she trained herself to milk them without moving the rest of her body. She also became more skilled in the use of lipsticks and glosses and mascara and perfumed body oils. Her luxurious black hair had grown so that it hung down to her shoulders. Her breasts were high and firm, her nipples long and smooth. On the night before the buyers were to arrive, the General summoned her to his office. She had not seen him since their last conversation.

  She wore a black silk dress that fit like a second skin. On her feet were open toed stilettos. As Madam Celia opened the massive door to his office, the general gasped and stepped back. “Stunning,” he said. “They told me you were training hard and succeeding beyond their expectations, but I am truly astonished.” He sat down behind his desk and motioned her forward. Madam Celia closed the door. When she was seated, he smiled across at her. She felt her cheeks redden. “You are the most beautiful woman ever to appear at these auctions.”