Erica's Downfall
  • Author - Doctor Ransom
  • Rating -   
  • Site Rank - 2665 of 2955
  • Story Codes - MF-f, non-consensual, reluctant, armbinder, bodymod, bondage, drugs, humiliation, kidnapping, slavery
  • Post Date - 10/9/2020

Author's Note: Erica and 9 other women are captured at sea by a highly advanced international sex slave organization. Erica recalls the events that led to her capture and details her transformation into the most coveted and expensive sex slave ever sold. The story is told in the first person, from Erica's POV. Enjoy

Erica and 9 other women are captured at sea by a highly advanced international sex slave organization. Erica recalls the events that led to her capture and details her transformation into the most coveted and expensive sex slave ever sold. The story is told in the first person, from Erica's POV.


Back on deck Serge ordered Niko to gag us. Niko then began to rummage through a large black duffle bag full of restraints and emerged with what appeared to be rack full of the cruel looking devices. A few moments later the same wretched device was yanked into my mouth, wedged behind my teeth and fastened so oppressively tightly I felt my eyes bulge. Serge told Niko to gag us. I must be gagged. Later I learned that this cruel device is referred to as ballgag and I would become very familiar with them.

My outburst only served to generate copious amounts of saliva. I was face down on the catamaran canopy staring down at the ocean water beneath me. The gag made me drool. I watched helplessly as a long a string of my saliva drip down off my ballgag and make contact with the ocean surface. I watched 9 more women receive an identical treatment to me. Niko threw them face down onto the trampoline, then the little Asian woman tied up their feet and clipped their collars then to the net.

There were 10 of us in total. 4 accompanied me on the left catamaran trampoline and 5 other on the right. I made eye contact with the woman on my left. Serge had drawn the number 8 on her forehead. She was scared, gagged and crying. Her sympathetic nervous system working in overdrive, pupils maximally dilated despite the bright mid-morning Pacifc sun. The "fight or flight" response is what they taught us in nursing school. Ironically, in our current predicament we could do neither. I joined her in crying.

CHAPTER 1: The Events Preceding My Capture

My name is Erica and I am a 10, a Southern California 10 at that. Meaning I am a 10/10 or a "dime" on the widely accepted degrading and objectifying scale that is used to reduce women to nothing more that a collection of their physical assets. If you ask most men to describe a 10 they would give you some sort of answer like "blonde hair, pretty face, tiny waist, nice ass, long legs" etc. In actuality most "10s" are actually 9s. I am not saying that these busty blondes aren't beautiful, but rather they are common. True 10's are exceedingly rare, even in SoCal which is like the NBA for beautiful women.

I'm a RN by trade, I date actors, musicians, artists, athletes and surgeons. Not really because I'm vane but rather because I can. You would if you could too. I choose to date interesting people. I know I am a 10. I'm 26 years old, half Brazilian and half Swedish. I'm 5'4" & 130 lbs with intense greyish-green eyes, full lips and high cheek bones. My tongue is pierce with a stud, and I have a little septal ring. I have wavy raven black hair to the small of my back. I naturally have perky C breasts that were more than adequate but last year I was dating a local plastic surgeon that offered to give me free under the muscle implants. At first I was reluctant, ever seen that show Botched? Anyways he talked me into it, and now I have 32 DDs that feel real. Both of my quarter sized brown nipples sport small barbell piercings. My complexion is olive. My waist is tight and my ass is thicker than a bowl of oatmeal. Think Kim Kardashian in yoga pants, and thanks to squats, yoga and my Colombian genes I don't have an ounce of cellulite. I've had 2 ribs removed to augment my hourglass figure but don't tell anyone. I have a pierced navel and clit. I have 2 tattoos. A thin vertical midline stripe of hieroglyphics down the back of my neck that extends from just beneath my hair line to between my shoulder blades as well and some leopard spots on my right side down onto my ass. Simply put, I'm mixed, thick and exotic. My personality is reserved even though my look is not. I'm not a slut, but I'm serial monogamous. I support myself with my job as an ICU nurse. I'm a young, beautiful, unmarried empowered modern women and goddammit I will do who and what I want.

What I wanted to be doing right now was the shooting guard for the LA Clippers. His name is Aaron, he is 6'5, he's 26 years old like me. He has a quiet and confident swagger that is incredibly sexy. A mutual friend introduced us. His agent hooked him with a chartered yacht vacation because It's the NBA off season. Prior to taking me on this cruise we had only had sex once (although I had gone down on him on 3 separate occasions). When he asked me, I was a little hesitant but he told me it wasn't serious and it would mostly be good company and great sex. I thought "what the hell, it's only a week".

Until my current predicament the cruise was going great. We were 3 days in. The dynamic relationship was such that we really didn't talk much. He demanded a lot of sex. The sex was good but not emotional. We are both introverts and I am not a particularly loud, theatrical or dramatic in bed. We were like cordial roommates that fuck a lot. He always initiated, I never objected. I was there whenever he wanted me. He was polite and never disrespectful and he always made sure I got off. He always initiated sex with the exception of his daily morning blowjob. In a playful and flirtatious agreement I agreed to his request that I wake him up each morning of the cruise with a blowjob. This was absolutely fine with me. I love giving head and I know I am the best at it. How do I know that I'm the best? Well that's a story of its own...pardon me while I digress.

CHAPTER 2: Fellatrix

I lost my gag reflex in my early teen years. Like many teen girls growing up in Southern California I had body image issues during those awkward tween years. Around the age of 13-14 I struggled with bulimia. Looking back on it now it seems so silly. I used to go to the toilet and stick pens down my throat to induce vomiting at least daily. This ritual eventually caused my developing tween brain to no longer register foreign objects forced deep down my throat as anything but ordinary. By age 14 with the help of some counseling I managed kick the habit of binging and purging. 2 years later I discovered my ability to deepthroat by accident.

When I was 16 I was pressured into giving an upper classmen a blowjob in his car after school. Right as he came he did that douchebag thing and grabbed the back of my head and slammed it down into his crotch. With virtually no resistance his 8 inch cock slid effortlessly down my throat. He violently bucked and fucked my face as he came down my throat. I thought what had happened was normal because it was my first time, but after he came to his senses he looked at me like I had just invented fire.

I brushed it off and took his reaction as mere flattery. Two days later I was the talk of the entire high school. Both boys and girls had heard that little Erica Thompson could easily fit the well hung Bobby Ingram's entire cock down her throat. I was incredibly embarrassed and I swore I was going to kill that son of a bitch Bobby.

I confronted him in the parking lot after school, I was crying and I slammed him with my backpack next to his car. His reaction was "what?! I couldn't just NOT tell anyone!" He hugged me and offered me a ride home. Insecure as I was at the I sucked him off again in his Jeep outside my house, this time I deepthroat him the whole time just to show him how easy it was. When he was about to come he tried to pull that bullshit with the back of my head again, but I was having none of it. I batted his hand away but I made the mistake of taking his cock out of my mouth right before he came. He shot cum all over my face, into my eye, all over my tits and onto my black tank top. I was so fucking mad. I told him to fuck off and to never talk to me again. I slammed his car door and stormed off toward my house to go clean up.

Little did I know that the school administration had caught wind of my bottomless throat. Apparently about an hour prior to me coming home Principal Matthews had called my mom to inform her about my behavior. As I stormed through my front door I was intercepted in our foyer by my pissed-off mother who had be awaiting my arrival.

Mom: "Hello young lady, do you want to explain to me why I just spent 20 minutes on the phone with your principal learning about how good you are at sucking dick!?".

I froze and looked up at her in horror. I had cum mixed with tears running down my face.

She stepped closer to me and squinted her eyes as she inspected me.

Mom: "are you are COVERED in cum!? You little fucking slut! Are you fucking serious right now?! Go clean yourself up and meet me in the kitchen in 5 minutes...un-fucking-believable!" she exclaimed.

After I cleaned myself off and composed myself I met my mom in the kitchen. I cried and told her everything. It felt good to actually tell my side of the story. I wasn't a slut, I was still a virgin! I had only given 2 blowjobs in my life but somehow both had ended tragically. My beautiful mother consoled me and told me that everything was going to be alright.

As I was exiting the kitchen to go to my room to lick my wounds she called my name, "Erica".

I turned around and my mom was looking back at me with a devious grin. She said, "just so you know, you aren't the only one in the family that doesn't have a gag reflex".

"Really?" I questioned.

Mom: "Of course not, but remember, with great power comes great responsibility, we have a gift. Don't give it out to every douchebag that asks, you are better than that. Oh and if I hear about this shit again I'm telling your father."

The following day I had a dreadfully awkward and embarrassing meeting with my school counselor. She was professional and respectful and caring. She gave me a ridiculous sex ed talk and a pamphlet about safe sex. She promised to keep thing confidential but all the teachers already knew. My male teachers never looked at me the same. They knew that I could probably take whatever they were packing down my throat. My grades however generally improved...typical douchebag behavior.

Several weeks later I went to sleepover party with some of my friends. We talked about boys, who we like, who we want to hook up with and who we had already hooked up with. All the girls were dying to know if the rumors about me were true. I told them that they were and that I thought everyone could deepthroat. They still didn't believe me. I demonstrated with my toothbrush. The other girls tried with their toothbrush and they all nearly threw up. That night culminated with a deepthroating contest that involved a condom over a kielbasa sausage and a sharpie marker. We all took turns seeing how far we could take the sausage down our throat without gagging.

Becca: 3.8 inches

Christie: 4.2 inches

Jessie: 4.5 inches

Lauren: 4.0 inches

Erica (me): 11.5 inches

I literally ran out of kielbasa sausage before I ran out of throat. They couldn't even comprehend. I tried to teach them as best I could. I should have known that my little bitch friends would spill the beans on this event too. For the rest of high school I knew every boy that asked me out truly did only want one thing. After graduation I got the hell outta Dodge and went to nursing school in Boston.

Guys love deepthroating, but there is far more to a good blowjob. Since high school I have taken it upon myself to learn how to give the ultimate blowjob. I learned by studying porn. I learned from the greats. Some of my favorites are Eden sin, Haley young, Heather Brooke, Violet Monroe, and Sarah Vandella just to name a few. I and thought about fellacio as an art, and I made it a priority to perfect my craft.

CHAPTER 3: My Morning Routine

Aaron was about what you would expect from a 6'5 half black NBA player. By my estimate he's about 10 inches and I could take every inch of him without even messing up my makeup (unless I wanted to). He couldn't get enough. Every morning on the cruise I set an alarm for 7am on my iPhone. I set it to vibrate so only I would hear it. I had a whole morning routine dedicated to giving Aaron the best head of his life. Not because he necessarily deserved it, but rather because I had a reputation to uphold.

I would shower, brush my teeth, do my makeup. Always heavy on the eyeliner and mascara. Although I do not have a gag reflex, like a lot of millennial females I can make myself cry up on command. Let's face it, tears can come in handy for time to time. I still haven't gotten a speeding ticket in LA to date. Anyways back to my routine...for his blowjob, the real magic happens when the tears meet my eye makeup. The mascara running down my face as I swallow his cock turns my pretty face into a beautiful mess.

Confession: lately I've been experimenting with butt plugs. Even at work on my nursing shifts. I have several stainless steel, jeweled butt plugs. They are more commonly known as "princess plugs". Once Tristen picked me up after my shift and we got busy in his car in the driveway. His face when he realized I was wearing my princess plug (and had been all day) was priceless. I get so fucking horny throughout the day when my ass is plugged. I guess that's why I jumped him in the driveway. The thought of someone finding out what a fucking slut I am make me so wet.

So after I wake up, I grab my small princess plug with the emerald gem and hop in the shower. With a little steady pressure it pops right into my ass, no lube needed for the little one.

After I'm plugged, I get dressed. In my mind proper cock sucking attire is topless with a thong and heels. I grab a new black lace La Pearla g-string and my 5 inch Louboutin's with locking ankle straps. Tristen got me them for just this occasion. A few months ago Louboutin released these limited edition red bottoms with an ankle strap. The strap buckle has an eyelet for a cute little jeweled lock that came with the shoe. The original lock was purely cosmetic, it requires no key and has a quick release mechanism. Needless to say the cute locks were swapped for some little Masterlocks and Voilà, now things were getting interesting.

See, Tristen likes me in heels, I don't mind them, but they aren't inherently comfortable or practical. If it were up to me I'd loose them for some flip-flops while on the boat. So our fun and kinky solution was not leave it up to me. Tristen keeps the key on his keychain. So after I lock myself in he has to let me out. This serves two rather entertaining purposes. First, it ensures that I am always in very sexy heels. They grab a lot of attention on deck from both men and women. In the right setting I don't mind being objectified. The heels define my role and place. Everyone on the boat sees me as "that NBA players piece of ass" and I am all too happy to play the part. The little locks are visible for all that are close enough to see. This little routine has tones of exhibitionism, and I love it. Secondly, I have to negotiate (or should I say beg?) him to let me out. This gives him a fun little piece of leverage that he just loves to exploit.

An important part of my pre cocksucking routine is drinking flat, ice-cold diet Mountain Dew. Let me explain, this is a pro-tip I learned from my friend that dabbled in porn. If possible I like to chug a 12 oz can flat diet Mountain Dew before I suck cock. For some reason, the flat diet dew stimulates production of that thick slimy saliva found in the back of the throat. It basically lubes my throat before it gets fucked. Additionally it hydrates, the caffeine increases my focus, I prefer it flat so the carbonation doesn't fuck with my stomach. Burps just aren't sexy to me. Lastly, ice-cold so my cold mouth wakes up his fat cock to stand at attention.

My hair in a high pony and a thin black choker around my neck completes the look.

On the cruise we both enjoy some alone time. This morning, after the deed was done we went our separate ways. He actually went fell back asleep. I would have had to wake him up to have him let me out of the high heels. I left my plug in. I put on some tanning oil and switched out the g-string for white thong bikini bottoms. Even though thong bikini bottom wasn't actually wide enough to cover the width of the emerald jewel of my princess plug, my ass is thick enough to keep it pretty hidden. The white halter top I chose didn't leave much to the imagination. Anyone that cared to look (and they did) could tell that my nipples were pierced. I didn't mind.

This cruise catered to inner-circle clientele and celebrities only. They had a strict policy against guest taking unauthorized photos of other guests. Paparazzi like behavior was simply not tolerated. If someone was caught leaking unauthorized photos from the cruise they would be effectively blackballed from similar exclusive events.

Additionally there was no cell service or WiFi in middle of the Pacific Ocean so if there was ever a time for exhibitionism it was now. I've already seen some of the instagram models go topless. It wasn't obnoxious in like a "girls gone wild" way but rather more like the French do. With a tummy full of Mountain Dew and Tristens cum I grabbed my designer sunglasses, my magazines, my phone and a towel. I put in my AirPods and went out to the ships sun deck to read and tan.

I found a reclining deck chair at the bow and settled in. For the time being I was alone, it was only 8am, most of the guests are just waking up. With my music blaring in my ears and my nose in a book I was completely oblivious to the events that had recently taken place at the stern of the ship....

CHAPTER 4: Meet the Slavers

Little did I know that a militarized trimaran equipped with a 50 caliber machine gun nicknamed "The Sea Spider" had latched itself onto the 150 ft yacht and its hostile crew was in the process of taking control of the ship.

The trimaran's crew consisted of 4 members. Serge was in charge. He was a muscular 6'4" former Russian secret service agent with a masochistic side. About 15 years back got involved with human trafficking industry. He got into the industry for the money but stayed because he loved dominating women. He has his techniques down to a science. Niko was Serges right hand man, he's a large portly bearded man with glasses. He was previously a biomedical engineer for the Russian military. Controlling people physically and mentally was his specialty and how he got his kicks. Zerva is a muscular 6 ft tall lesbian Russian woman that was previously captured as a slave. She made her time as a slave easier by dominating the other slaves, eventually she gained Serges trust and joined his cause. She has zero compassion. She is not a flight risk simply because she loves what she's doing. The 4th is Ms Yang. Ms Yang previously ran a brothel in Thailand. Although she's small she is a trained Muy Thai fighter and an expert in rope bondage.

Zerva approached my tanning bed from behind and decided to make her presence known by letting off a round of her AK47 near my ear. Startled me half to death, I screamed and yelled "what the fuck?!" she smiled and pointed her rifle at me and motioned for me to stand up. I put my hands up, she slung her assault rifle over her shoulder. She ripped my headphones out of my ears and threw all my . The big butch bitch spun me around and secured a zip tie tightly around my wrists and then threw my phone overboard and frog marched me in my thong bikini and heels toward the back of the boat.

She threw me into a lineup with a 9 or so other women on the ship. They were all very pretty, I did not like where this was going.

Serge approached me, he easily stood 6'4 and towered over me. In a menacing tone he said "how nice of you to join us." Not sure what I was thinking I decided to be a badass and I spit in his face. That was a mistake. With a lip full of chewing tobacco he spat a large glob of brown tinged saliva right back onto my face and chest. Calmly he to looked up at Niko and ordered "gag them". Niko approached behind us with a bag of devices. He started at the opposite end of the line from where I was. I watched in horror a he ordered each girl to open her mouth widely. The first one, a relatively well known, skinny brunette instagram model hesitantly obeyed, Niko proceeded to cram a huge black ball in her mouth and strap it cruelly tight into her mouth. From there on it was a mixed bag. Some of us obeyed and accepted the huge ballgags, some of us fought and pursed our lips and tucked our chins, none of it mattered, everyone ended up gagged. Most of us were in tears.

As for me there was no fucking way I was letting that guy strap that ball in my mouth. So when it came to my turn, I fought hard. When he moved to press the ball to my lips I turned my head from side to side and tried to stomp his foot with my limited edition Louboutin heel with the kinky locking strap. I connected one time but it didn't seem to matter on his military boot.

Niko grabbed a fist full of my hair and picked me clear off the deck by my hair. My scalp burned and I winched my eyes squeezed in pain which was all the opportunity he needed to jam the ball into my partially open mouth. Once it was in he kept it in with his hand covering my mouth and face. He fumbled to work with the zip tie strap into place, he only took his hand off to cinch the zip tie ratchet down and by that time I had lost the opportunity to spit it out.

After all the fuss was over and the battle of the ballgags was lost, I looked Serge dead in the eye and glared him my worst glare. I was literally foaming at the mouth (or drooling around my gag). I hadn't yet noticed but during my attempt to not be gagged my left tit had fallen out of my bikini top. With our eyes locked together he arrogantly stepped closer until our faces we just inches apart. Then without me seeing he gentle caressed my exposed nipple. The sensation was unexpected and now I realized that my tit was exposed. A wave of humiliation washed over me and my face turned bright red. It's hard to look like a badass with one tit exposed. He laughed in my face and said "I am really going to enjoy breaking you." I wanted to curl up and die. I felt so defeated. I turned my face away tried to hide it into my shoulder. With one hand Serge grabbed my neck to hold me in place, with the other With the other he cut off my bikini top exposing my breasts and pierced nipples. He continued to inspect me while taking many liberties, caressing my breasts and flicking my nipples. My inability to stop him reinforced my helplessness and let me know who was really in control.

He circled behind me like a snake all while maintaining his control around my neck. While behind me he slipped his rough callused hands down the front of my bikini bottoms. He slipped the tip of his finger inside me and then worked it up my slit and swirled it around my clip. He chucked into my ear and growled into my ear so only I could hear "dirty girl".

Oh fuck I thought to myself

He knows my pussy is waxed

He knows my clit is pierced.

He knows I'm wet.

My humiliation deepened.

I wanted to die.

He changes his grip from my neck to my hair again and forces me to slightly bend over. He gives my ass a few hefty swats, reddening my ass cheeks with his heavy hand. He then reaches down the inside of the waistband of my thong swimsuit bottoms and grabs the biggest handful off my ass he can and pulls my ass cheek in a circle and the let's go and let's my bubble butt giggle back into place. Whatever he did it was enough for him to catch a glimpse of my princess plug I had hidden in my ass. although I couldn't see him. By his body language I could tell that he had seen it. He let out a loud "HA" followed by "you little fucking slut, Niko, Zerva let me show you something" he pulls me out of the lineup by my hair and bends me over a nearby railing in front of the lineup. Using his boot he kicks my legs apart. He pulls my thong to the side and pulls my ass cheeks apart and says "look what I found in this defiant little bitch".

There I am with my hands zip tied behind me, ballgagged, topless, bent over a railing in high heels with my princess plugged asshole exposed for all to see. Really the only ones that saw it were my 3 captors and the other 9 captive girls. The 3 joked about it and made some jokes about how I was a slutty whore and how I'm going to love my new life. The waterworks started. Tears of shame just poured out of my eyes. They left the plug in, pulled my thong back in place and marched me back into position in the lineup. Even in our current predicament I could feel the other girls judging and slut shaming me. "Don't worry ladies, y'all will all have your asses plugged soon enough, little miss slutty tits over here just thought she'd get a bit of a head start that's all." Still sobbing I stood in the line. The girl next to me was local news anchor named Tina Wallace. She was not famous but more of a local celebrity. She was in her early 30s and she was very pretty in an ordinary kind of way. She seemed to be handling this ordeal better than most of us. In an effort to console me she put her head on my shoulder and sort nuzzled her dirty blond hair into the side of my face. I welcomed the compassionate gesture and my sobbing turned to sniffing.

Serge came by with marker a marked us on our forehead with a numbers. There were 4 sevens, 3 eights, 2 nines, I was the only 10. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he was rating his latest cohort of sex slaves. I really didn't know how to feel. Being rated a 10 in my current state of shame and defeat brought in a whole new set of emotions to fuck with my head. In the few moments preceding being marked I don't think I've ever felt less pretty in my life. But more importantly, Why the fuck do I actually feel prettier after being marked on my forehead? Why do I care what this asshole thinks at all? But captured next to me were some of the most beautiful women I've ever seen in my life. I know I'm hot, but right now, at least in Serge's eyes, I'm the hottest of the hot. In my current situation I'm also unsure if that is even a good thing. But in that moment I needed something to hold to. The feeling didn't last long...

He ordered Niko something in Russian. Niko grabbed a bag and came around behind us. From the bag he pulled out a device that I did not like the look of. It was an alloy hinged metal collar with black rubber padding on the inside. A heavy silver dollar sized ring denoted the front of the collar. The closure device is some sort of locking metal ratchet system. There were several leads and electrodes. The collars all have remote controls that for now are attached to the collar.

Niko unceremoniously tossed me onto the canopy of the catamaran. With my wrists zip tied securely behind me and to my back, I was unable to break my fall. With a grunt I ragdolled tits first into the canopy catching a face full the coarse canopy webbing. I starred down at the ocean water beneath me through the gaps in the webbing.

Abruptly a small Asian female (Ms Yang) pounced on me. She straddled ass reverse cowgirl style facing my feet. Although she was small, the combination her body weight on my butt and the stretch of the trimaran canopy caused my body to arch so far unnaturally backwards I thought my spine would snap. The net effect was me essentially handing the woman my ankles on a silver platter. With lightning efficiency she gathered up my and crossed my ankles then sloppily lashed them together with a long strip of brown cow hide. Done with my feet she turned 180 and straddled me the other way. With a wire cutter she cut the zip tie around my wrists. With my arms free I fought her with all my might, but my feet were tied and she was in the dominant position. All my hours in spent in the gym seemed to fail me here. With a cruel arm-bar, she yanked my right arm way up the small of my back and secured my wrist with the leather lashing. She then crossed the free end of the lashing over my right shoulder, then across my chest and down around my left rib cage and tied off the wet leather hide back to itself near my wrist effectively securing my right arm to my back in an arm-bar. If I wasn't so flexible I swear it would have dislocated my shoulder. With my feet tied together and one arm tied behind my back most of the fight was taken out of me. I tried to fend her off with my remaining free left arm but it was futile. Her movements became less hurried and became more methodical. She secured my left wrist and then twisted it up my back and brought the free end over my left shoulder, then down across my chest, forming an X with this other binding, around my right rib cage and tied it off like my other arm. My wrists were crossed between shoulder blades but individually secured to my torso. As if that wasn't secure enough, she then used a final piece of wet brown leather cowhide lash my wrists together. She left me in a furious sweaty heap on the catamaran webbing and moved on to the woman next to me who received the identical treatment.

I frantically bucked and tested my bonds. My bindings were secure and I was not going anywhere. and apparently the Asian woman new what she was doing because I soon found that she had rendered my arms and legs effectively useless. As a final insult the Asian woman used a simple non-locking caribeaner to clip the collar around my neck to the canopy webbing. I wasn't going anywhere.

Furious, exhausted and defeated and out of tricks I resorted to name calling. "Fucking Bitch" I attempted to shout, but all that came out was a muffled "ffffuuuuuehhhbeehhht". Now I understood why Niko had strapped a giant black rubber balls into each of our mouths. I hated this vile contraption that was preventing me from giving these cowards a piece of my mind. The crew of 4 casually boarded the catamaran and undocked from the scuttled yacht and set off. Simply put we were fucked. I've never felt so small and helpless in my entire life.

CHAPTER 5: My Humiliating Transport

I don't know how long it had been since we lost sight of the yacht. I tried to do the things they tell women about if they are ever abducted. "Remember the details of your surroundings, the tattoos on your captures, anything about your location." Bullshit I thought, we were taken in the middle of the ocean, and we are still in the middle of the fucking ocean. It must have been hours. We were all still clipped face down to the catamaran trampoline netting by our collars. Every 30 minutes or so one of the girls would thrash around in our bonds and scream with frustration into our gags only to end up panting with exhaustion. I even tried once, I wasn't special. I couldn't get loose either. I figured out why Ms Yang bound us with wet leather cow hide though. As the beating sun dried the wet leather strips the strips actually shrunk. My bindings were tighter now than ever. I could tell the other girls were feeling it too.

Eventually Ms Yang came and unclipped our collars and untied our ankles. I thought it curious that she did not simply cut our ankles free, instead her little fingers took the time to loosen and untie all ten of our ankle bindings, she stuffed the lashings into a duffle bag with some other cruel looking shit. I wondered how many times they had done this. They were calm and organized. With our necks and ankles free we began to roll around and assess our surroundings a bit more. Us girls all seem to avoid looking directly at each other. I didn't want to be seen in my current predicament, it was humiliating. Most of the girls were a mess. Black eye makeup ran down everyone's faces.

Serge interrupted: "Listen up you bitches. As you can probably guess, y'all are going to be trained and sold as sex slaves"

I cringed at his words, a few girls started crying softly. I wasn't surprised, next to me were some serious hot pieces of ass. I had read about shit like this, but you never think it could happen to you.

Serge continued: "The collars you are wearing will facilitate your training. They are quite simple. They are shock collars with adjustable settings and they are tracking devices. We have found that shock collars speed up the training process dramatically. Let me demonstrate. Niko, bring one of the bitches up her to suck my cock".

I was on the outside edge of the left canopy, which was not a good place to be. If he came around to the left I know he would pick me. Once I saw that he was coming around this way I turned my head away and tried to become invisible. It didn't work. With one hand Niko grabbed a fist full of my hair, with his other, he grabbed the cluster of leather lashings between my shoulder blades. Ms Yangs tie job acted like a harness around my chest and he picked me clear off the ground off the canopy and onto the deck. Then he slung me over his shoulder, ass up and then placed me in front of Serge's boots. By my ponytail he pulled me up to my feet. Still locked in the high heels I struggled to maintain my balance. He forced my chin up to look him in the eye. He said "you're going to suck me cock like a good girl aren't you?"

Me: "Frrrccckkkkk oooo" I tried to say through my ballgag

Serge: "That's what I though you'd might say, but you see, we have ways of dealing with little bitches like you. You see, you are going to suck my cock right now whether you want to or not. The sooner y'all realize that the easier your life will be."

Serge grabbed the remote that was attached to my collar and and waved it in front of my face in a taunting manner, and then he dramatically pressed and held the button. I immediately dropped to the ground convulsing in a fetal position. I felt every muscle painfully clench in my entire body, like an instantaneous charley-horse in every muscle in my body.. I couldn't talk, breath or even scream to tell him to stop, not only because I was gagged but rather I was already making involuntary gurgling noises. I was frozen, writhing around on the ground. I would have done anything to make it stop.

Serge stood above me and asked: "have you had enough?"

Unable to answer I lay at his feet convulsing in hell. He mockingly says "I think she's had enough" and dramatically releases the button on the remote. I slump into a flaccid heaving mess on the floor, hyperventilating and wailing into the gag. I also realized that I had involuntarily pissed myself while being shocked, and I was lying in a puddle of my own urine. It was all too much, too surreal, my ears were ringing with pulsatile tinnitus, time slowed, voices were muted and I was envisioning myself from above, sort of like an out of body experience. I saw myself curled up in the fetal position in a puddle of my own urine at this mans feet. My arms were bound, I was ball-gagged and wearing $3000 locking high heels with a jeweled butt plug in my ass.

"Get up on your knees, I'm not going to ask you again" Serge commanded.

I was still recovering. Apparently I hadn't heard him ask the first times. I slowly tried to gather myself and work my way to my knees.

Serge: "Faster or I'm going to shock you again".

The thought of being shocked again made me panic, I rolled and flopped and kicked and struggled to figure out how to get onto my knees from the floor, it was difficult with my hands bound so uselessly behind my back. I may have not gotten to me knees quickly, but Serge could see that I was giving it 110%...I guess the collar was effective.

Serge: "We'll work on your technique shortly, you will learn how to do all kinds of things without the use of your hands." Serge then addressed to the whole group. "Get used to it ladies, for the foreseeable future, get used to your hands being bound and your mouths gagged."

I briefly looked over. We had the undivided attention of the other 9 captive girls. Part of me wanted to be strong and defiant for them, but the shock collar was just too terrible, I would do anything to never experience a shock ever again. Now I understand why they are so effective. On my knees again in front of Serge he said again holding the remote where all could see it.

Serge: "How about that blowjob?"

I hesitated for a second and I felt tears coming. I nodded my head "yes".

I started crying because their tactics had worked. They had won, and they made it look easy. With the threat of a shock from my collar looming over me, I was more than willing to suck this strange evil mans cock in front of my peers. It was so utterly demoralizing to think just how easily I had been broken.

Serge: "Good girl, that's what I thought"

He reached for my ballgag strap which was actually a heavy duty zip-tie and prepared to cut it with some wire cutters.

Serge: "Niko, bring me a MouthLock would ya?"

Serge looked down at me and said, "Not that I think you would bite me, given your position it would not be wise. But the fact that you could choose bite my cock will give you a sick fantasy to dream about. Could you imagine how satisfying it would be to bite my cock off? Even if it meant your own demise. I want to take that away from you too. And for that, we have these."

He held up a black metal bracket retainer looking device. It looked like a little black piece of dental equipment. He introduced it. "This my dear is a MouthLock"

Serge: "The MouthLock is an ingenious little device. It has brackets that rest on the insides of your teeth and hook around your molars and incisors. There are small finger screw jacks on either side that control how wide your mouth is open. Once the jaw jacks are screwed opened sufficiently wide its is nearly impossible to remove even with the use of your hands. Bound as you are, spitting it out is actually impossible. Once in your mouth will stay open for all to use. Wonderful little device they are. Much more discrete, cosmetic and reliable than ring gags."

Serge grabbed my ponytail and commanded "open your mouth" I obeyed, he pinched the MouthLock and worked it into my mouth, when he let it go at snapped against my incisors and I thought he might have chipped a tooth but he didn't. I instinctively tried to spit it out with my tongue which proved much more difficult than I thought. He reached back into my mouth with his large fingers and started screwing the jaw jacks open. He'd work on the left, then the right, then back to the left, slowly prying my mouth wider and wider open. Not being able to close my mouth was a new sensation that was quite dehumanizing.

Serge rammed two fingers down my throat. To his surprise, I didn't gag or choke. He gave a devious smile and then pulled out his cock. His cock was huge, easily 9 inches and it wasn't even fully hard. He waved it in front of my face and slapped it with a heavy thud onto my forehead, cheek and face in effort to wake his own cock up.

He sat in his chair with me in front of him on my knees. He grabbed my ponytail and jammed his cock into my forced open mouth. He began to fuck my face. His cock grew and stiffened in my throat and my throat began to create that slimy saliva. His cock grew to be a girthy 10.5 inches by my estimate and he began more violently jamming it down my throat.

Most girls would have had a difficult time with this, but not me. I objectively believe I am the worlds greatest cocksucker (See chapter 2 and 3). I just went limp and let him do all the work. His slimy big dick slid all the way down my throat. I know he wanted this to be unpleasant for me but it wasn't, honestly I've had bigger down my throat, not many times, but I have. So I just defiantly stared him in dead in the eyes as he fucked my throat. I actually tried to look bored in effort to emasculate him. I even "side-eyed" the other nine girls while I was getting face fucked by Serge. They would have had to pick their jaws up off the floor if their ballgags weren't already holding them open. Their facial expressions were somewhere between horror and fascination. At first Serge was just trying to be mean by gagging me with his dick, once he realized that it didn't phase me he didn't really know what to do. I could tell that a a helpless girl chocking on his huge cock is probably gets him off. I would not give him the show he wants. I just relaxed, there was nothing I could do anyway. I let him use my gaping mouth and throat as his fuck hole and hoped he would finish soon.... I was not so lucky and to be honest I felt like this was dragging on a bit. It was getting a little awkward so I humored him and started to pick up more of the rhythm that he was forcing with his hand on my ponytail and thrusting his pelvis. Gradually he began doing less and less of the work and I started bobbing my head more onto his cock. I deepthroated him while maintaining eye contact and simultaneously fluttered my tongue to stimulate his shaft. With his cocked hubbed down my throat I showed him I could individually play with each of his balls with the tip of my tongue. His grip on my ponytail began to loosen and eventually he let go and slumped into his chair and let me finish him off. When he came he violently grabbed my head and plummeted his cock into my throat, jamming my nose into his pubes. He let out a roar as I ripped an orgasm from his soul. He shot his load directly into my stomach, I never tasted a drop. recovering from his orgasm in his chair he said "goddam you're a dirty bitch, I'm going to make a fortune off of you"

"Fuueeegh oooo" I tried to say through the MouthLock, a string of his cum was still hanging off my lip. The MouthLock gag certainly made it more difficult to speak, my words are more unintelligible but it did not keep me quiet like the ball gag did. It's purpose was fundamentally different than the ball gag.

A word on ballgags. I didn't know this at the time but now I consider myself somewhat of an expert when it comes to ballgags. For reference, a typical "fun and games" or '50 shades of grey" beginner ballgag is 1.5 inches across and made of soft silicon. Sometimes the ball is perforated to allow for easy breathing. The strap may be made of velcro or pleather and it often stretches quite a bit. In most normal circumstances, with some effort, most girls can eventually spit out their ballgags.

We were ballgagged a bit differently. The ballgags the slavers use were 2.25 inches in diameter. I know an 0.75 inch increase in diameter doesn't seem like much but recall that the volume of a sphere increases in respect to the radius cubed. For a lot of girls, 2.25 inches will plug their entire mouth up and they'll have to breath through their nose. Some girls can't spit out a 2.25 inch ballgag even if it isn't strapped in. Our ballgags were made of hard rubber, not silicone so they had very little give. It felt like a billiard ball crammed in your mouth. They were glossy black and riddled with teeth marks and scuffs from heavy use. The rock hard 2.25 inch black ball was centered on a short metal bit. The bits made it so the gag could be strapped tighter without damaging the corners of the mouth. The bit had special inserts for heavy duty zip-ties instead of the typical leather strap. Leather straps had too much give and were too easily cut or unfastened. The heavy zip ties could only be tightened, never loosened, and they were totally inelastic. The only way to take them off was with wire cutters. Thats why all the slavers carry zip ties and wire cutters on their belt.

They taught us how to accept a ballgag. They make us open our mouthes as wide as possible and tuck our chins to our chest while saying "ahhhhh". This maneuver makes the jaw to neck distance as short possible and relaxes the jaw so the ball can be secured in place as deeply as possible with the zip-tie strap. The zip-tie ratchet mechanism allows for very precise sizing. After the initial gagging and things have had a chance to settle it is pretty routine for someone to come back around a few minutes later and ratchet the zip ties on our gags a few extra clicks. With the zip-tie strap, this maneuver can be done with only one hand.

I understand now. From the slavers perspective the ballgags had numerous benefits. Ballgags are the simplest and most convenient way to shut girls up. I have to admit, listening to 10 whimpering entitled bitches try to talk their way out of this futile situation sounds like a headache. But most importantly the ballgags kept us captives alone and divided. See gagged girls aren't able to communicate with each other thus thwarting any efforts to coordinate an escape plan. Ballgags also prevents the spread of information, comfort and hope.

Back to the MouthLock. The MouthLocks job was fundamentally different. Speaking clearly through the device was impossible. It distorts the mouth very strangely. I actually sound clearer with a ballgag. But the ballgag plugs the entire mouth more and as a result keeps the volume down. So I could scream and holler and make a bunch of noise through the MouthLock if I wanted to, but I didn't really see the point. We were in the middle of the ocean and no one was coming to save us.

"Zerva, plug her up and throw her with the others" Serge commanded.

Zerva approached with a handful of rope and a bag full of gizmos. First was a little metal locking C shaped device. She said in a Russian accent, "your pussy is pierced, this go on your pussy piercing". The C-shaped device snapped shut, locking onto the barbell ends of my vertical hood clit piercing. She flipped a switch and the locking device came to life, delivering powerful ultrasonic vibrations through the nerve endings of my clit.

"That's not all" she said. She then whipped out a 6 inch black rubber dildo with ring on the end and a roll of hemp rope. She folded the rope in half, wrapped it around my waist and passed passed the free end back through the loop forming a Y near my navel. She then passed a crotch rope on either side of my vibrating clit lock, she took the dildo and briefly throat fucked me with it to lube it up, then passed the two ends through the ring at the end of the dildo, and inserted the dildo into my pussy, she brought the rope ends up my ass crack, applying pressure my own fucking princess plug and tied it back to my waist rope, effectively holding the clit lock, the dildo and my ass plug all in place. She brought me over to the others, prior to tossed face down me onto the canopy. She quickly gathered my ankles and put me into a crossed ankle hogtie so I couldn't close my legs. She flipped the switch on the dildo and it came to life. Where the clit lock had an ultrasonic almost annoy type quality to its vibrations, the vibrating dildo had a low, powerful rumble to it.

Serge said "enjoy yourself you little slut, try not to cum too hard in front of your little friends, we'll be there in an hour"

Be where in an hour? I thought to myself. The two vibrators worked in concert with each other. I tried my best to ignore them, keep my composure and keep what little dignity I had left in front of the others. I lay hogtied face down with my mouth gaping open next to a group of bound girls. They were both compassionate, scared and judgmental all at the same time. I was having a hart time focusing and they could tell. My eyes kept fluttering a rolling back, my breathing quickened, I was trying to keep my composure but I knew I was fighting a loosing fight. I did not want to cum. I did not want to give them the satisfaction. I did not want to cum like a whore in front of these other captured women. I started hyperventilating and just repeatedly saying "no, no, no, no, no, no" through my MouthLock gag. It became clear that I was going to loose this fight against my own body I just let it go. I couldn't help it. I kept pepeatedly saying through my mouth lock gag "oh fuck I'm cumming, oh fuck I'm cumming, make it stop, I'm such a whore, I'm sorry, oh fuck, oh fuck, I'm still cumming, make it stop" as I thrust my pelvis on my side. The other girls were looking at me with a mixture of sympathy and disgust but there was nothing I could do.

CHAPTER 6: "El Mercado"

I lost count of the number of humiliating orgasms I had. I was a crying, drooling slobbering mess. Completely drunk on orgasms and unable to move. Zerva approached me and turned off the clit ring and the dildo. With a simple yank of a rope that I was both unaware of nor could I reach she released me from my hogtie and unwrapped my ankles.

"Get your ass up bitch it's time to go."

My head was just barely starting to clear but I was still pretty cum drunk and oblivious. I realized all 9 of the other girls were already standing in a single file line on the deck of the catamaran.

As my head cleared I tried to absorb my surroundings. The catamaran was docked at what appeared to be a massive off shore oil drilling rig. The main deck must've been 70 or 80 feet above where we were docked. There was an industrial freight elevator running between the docks and the main deck. Strangely, there were multiple other vessels docked nearby. It was a strange mix of yachts, cigar boats and modern camouflaged pirate ships with machine guns. Jazz music could be heard from the platform above.

"Move it blowjob Becky" Zerva prodded me with her AK47. I glared at her but complied. I maneuvered to me knees on the canopy, she helped me to my feet and let me to the back of the line by my collar. She clipped my collar to the back of the collar of the girl in front of me.

Serge spoke:

"Listen up Cunts. Welcome to the first day of the rest of your lives. This old oil rig was the largest of her kind when she was operational. The rig was shut down in the 90s and it was sold to Mexico. Mexico decided to turn it into a maximum security prison in 97 but the project was abandoned and never quite finished. In 2005 the cartel renovated it, installed solar power, generators, and turned it into what it is today. Ladies welcome to "El Mercado".

This place is where we train and auction slaves from all over the world. Folks that are just looking for a good time can come and sample the slaves that are still in training.

Unfortunately for y'all there is an event tonight and we need you to work. Theres money to be made. Y'all haven't been broken and trained at all yet so needless to say y'all can't be trusted. So tonight the bondage will be tighter, just some extra precautions to ensure the safety of our clients. Just relax, go with the flow and try to have a good time. The event starts in 4 hours and we have to get you cunts ready for action.

There were gagged whimpers and moans throughout the lineup. Let's move it bitches Zerva commanded. She pulled on the first girls leash, slowly the group started moving, each of us being pulled by the neck by the women in front of us. Remarkably effective, bound and coffeled like we were Zerva control all 10 of us by herself. She led us onto the freight elevator and up we went.

When the freight elevator reached the level of the main deck we found ourselves surrounded by two rows of chain link fences capped with spools of razor wire. 2 guards armed with assault rifles manned a series of reinforced gates at each of the fences. The guards and our captors exchanged pleasantries.

Guard: Serge is that you? You're a lucky son of a bitch you know that, that's the 3rd batch of bitches you brought in this month, you trying to set a record?

Serge: Marcus, my man! Good to see you. With the addition of these fine little pieces of ass it will be 33 captured and delivered over a span of 28 days. Just 3 shy of the one month record that has stood for 4 years, but whose counting...

Marcus: when can I come by for a sample?

Serge: not tonight I'm afraid, believe it or not these untrained bitches are actually booked for tonight. The Guild has lost their mind. They are marketing these "Unbroken" parties with untrained slaves. Trying to say "get em before their damaged goods", it's all fun and games until one of these untrained bitches lashes out and hurts a client. Come by the Kennel first thing in the morning, they won't be in makeup but you can have your choice. This little whore over there (pointing at me) has no fucking gag reflex, I shoved my 10 inch dick down her throat and she just left it there for like 30 seconds, didn't even blink. She looked bored with a 10 inch cock balls deep in her throat. Give her a spin tomorrow, you won't regret it.

I was already establishing a reputation. This was not good.

Marcus: sounds like a plan.

Serge: let us on through, we got all kinds of shit to do.

Marcus: you got it boss.

Marcus opened the gates and let us pass through a chain linked hallway between the two gates. A Doberman pincher resided in the neutral ground between the fences. He tracked and mirrored our movements. The dog growled at us as we passed through.

Inside the gates appeared to be an entire small city built out of shipping containers, row after row, stacked at least 3 high in most places. There were people off in the distance, we took a right to following signs that read "processing"

As our chain gang was led into one of the first shipping containers we were greeted by many middle aged Southeast Asian men and women wearing navy jump suits, surgical masks, heavy boots and rubber gloves.

Serge now wielding a bull horn let us know what was in store for us.

"Y'all know what an assembly line is?"

Gagged as we were we all sort of just looked at each other.

"This is an assembly line that makes perfect pretty little fuck sluts."

As my eyes adjusted to the lighting of the new room we were in I realized that in this part of the city, all of the shipping containers were connected on the inside. The room was as long as a football field on the inside.

First we need to change your bondage to something more permanent. He detached chain from the one leading our chain gang. It was Instagram model with the handle @LuluPeaches. But i think her real name was Tara. He held her by the collar and several workers came and cut all of her lashings free and stripped her completely nude except for her collar and ballgag. One of the workers brought contraption to Serge. He introduced it.

"This is one of our signature arm-bags". It is one of the most durable, reliable and secure pieces of bondage equipment ever designed. It is meant to be worn for up to a week at time but I've seen slaves go a whole month. It is made of a kevlar, it's completely adjustable and lockable and you can shower in it, it dries very quickly and Kevlar has antimicrobial properties."

With her back facing to us he handed the contraption back to one of the workers. Another worker positioned @LuluPeaches arms behind her back but bent at 90 degrees at the elbow with her fingers grasping her opposite elbow so her arm made a box. The rectangular black bag like device was worked over her arm. Another worker efficiently passed straps under her armpits then over he breasts, then they crossed at her sternal notch went over the opposite shoulder before being buckled tightly and locked with small padlocks. It looked very secure.

Then one of the workers began ratcheting a knob at the center of the device. The Kevlar was constricting like a python around Lulus arms arms.

Serge: "there is steel cable ratchet system that runs through the device nicknamed "The Boa" As it tightens it distributes pressure equally throughout the cable as to not cause pressure points."

When the worker was satisfied he applied a final lock to the ratchet mechanism.

Serge: "Since it's implementation in 2009 we've had zero escapes and zero upper extremity amputations. Truth be told prior to 2009 used conventional forms of bondage like how y'all are currently restrained. Escapes were rare but without any protocols or standardization techniques for restraining slaves there were inevitable neurological and vascular compromise of the arms resulted in several arm and hand amputations. I don't really see what the big deal is, without arms y'all can still fuck, suck and take it in the ass but Managment took in seriously because one armed slaves sell for considerably less money. The bottom line; that's all anyone cares about these days, am I right ladies?! (His douchebag tone received a few muffled groans and eye rolls from his captive audience). You want someone's attention you gotta hit them in their pocket books. Anyways I digress, call me old school but I've always been partial to good old fashion rope bondage, which is now a dying art. Everything is so high tech now. But you can't ignore those results, no escapes, amputations or reports of nerve damage in over ten years is quite the track record. Alright little missy give it a little test."

@LuluPeaches shot a glance at us and then gave a pathetic struggle/twist of her torso.

Serge was not satisfied.

Serge: "c'mon is that all you got?" He mocked. "How bout this, if you can get free in the next 5 minutes I'll let you and all you're little friends go free". He took out his iPhone and put a 5 minute timer on display. "5 minutes starting NOW"

Lulu glanced at us again. I could tell that she knew that she was stuck and that struggling was pointless. I also knew that even if by a miracle she did get free, there was no way we would be set free. But by putting our fate her hands she felt obligated to give it all she could. She intensified her thrashing. Her arms didn't budge. Her shoulders hardly moved. She started crying, her face turned beet red, and she screamed a frustrated scream through he ballgag and did this little tap dance temper tantrum with her feet and grunted defeat.

Still not satisfied Serge grabbed a cattle prod and shocked right on her ass cheek: "I SAID STRUGGLE BITCH!!!" He yelled. She wailed into her gag and dropped straight to the floor into a fetal position. Serge circled around the poor girls body and poked at her again a few more times with the cattle prod but did not shock her. "You want another one?!". Lulu was a mess. Sobbing scrambling and thrashing around on the ground like a fish out of water. Her body was covered in sweat, tears, snot and drool. This was getting really hard to watch. A few of the other girls were whimpering.

Serges phone started to chime. 5 minutes had passed. "Aweee saved by the bell" Serge mocked. Lulu stopped struggling and slumped in her arm bag. Her chest was heaving. She had pissed herself. "See ladies, it's completely inescapable, but y'all are welcome to try, and you will.

"Alright y'all, gag em and bag em" he signaled to the herd of workers that were surrounding us. "I'll get this one cleaned up" referring to Lulu slumped on the floor.

We were out numbered 2:1, two workers to every one of us. They worked with lightening efficient. First they released our collars from the chain that connected all is together and spread all 10 of us out all over the room. We each had our own little station. I was last in line and I was the only one who's bondage was different from the group.

CHAPTER 7: Being Prepared

After detaching my collar from the chain I was escorted by two of the facility workers to a nearby station. The workers wore navy jumpsuits and heavy boots, like what a mechanic would ware. They wore black nitrile procedure gloves and medical face masks. From what I could tell they were Asian women likely in their 50s. They spoke to me in broken English with heavy Asian accents.

Worker1: come, come with us, we treat you very good, very special.

Worker2: yes, yes, the bad men like you very good, see? they write number 10 on your head. Means you very special, make them very rich.

Worker1: we get you ready, make you very pretty for big party.

Their work station was a 3 sided stall with a privacy curtain that acted as a door. The space measured about 3 x 3 meters. The walls were just tall enough that I could see the top of the girls heads in the stalls to the right and left of me getting the identical treatment. As I entered their work station the privacy curtain was swung closed.

Their work station was organized and well lit. They had a small work bench with some cabinets above and drawers below. Mounted on the walls was an intimidating mix of tools, bondage equipment, and medical supplies. There were a lot of things that I couldn't identify which made me nervous. There was a full length mirror behind me. There was a tall barstool in the center with 2 shorter rolling toadstools nearby.

Worker2: First, we need to tie you better. You no fight. Do you no good. You get in big trouble.

Worker1: yes, we shock you if you bad! Pointing to her taser that she had on her utility belt.

Worker2: relax, we take good care of you, make you very pretty. Big party tonight. You have fun.

I rolled my eyes and nodded in affirmation that I understand the rules and I would not fight them. I really didn't see the point in trying to fight them. Since being captured 4 or 5 hours ago I've been constantly analyzing the situation. Hoping, praying for an opportunity to escape. So far there have been officially zero opportunities that had even the slimmest chance of success.

I kept telling myself to be strong, stay positive and to keep my wits about me, but it was getting harder and harder as our situation became bleaker.

I thought to myself, even if everyone here somehow miraculously dropped dead, except for me right now, that still leaves me bound and gagged on an abandoned oil rig in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, surrounded by 2 barbed wire fences, 100 feet off the water. I may have an opportunity to escape later but this did not appear to be the time to try anything funny.

Worker 1 grabbed a pair of trauma shears and cut all of my bindings off. The ropes and leather hide strips and fell to the floor. My arms and wrists were so numb from the bindings that I couldn't even move them. A moment later a wave of that pins and needle sensation started in my fingertips and climbed both up my arms into my shoulder. You know the sensation of when your hand falls asleep, it was like that but way more intense and involved my whole arms.

The workers knew exactly what was going on.

Worker1: yes, yes funny feeling in arms, they tie you too tight, very bad man, tie you too tight. Your arms be fine again in 20, 30 minutes. You be ok in no time.

Worker2 began to message my arms and then she rubbed my rope marks with some lotion. I thought she was being nice until she effortlessly flicked my limp arms up behind my back into that box position used for the armbag. Once I caught on to what was going I started to protest a little but it was already too late. Worker1 had already managed to slip the armbag sleeve around my wrists, forearms, elbows and upper arms up to my shoulders and armpits.

Worker1 then held it in place while Worker2 started fastening it in place with ruthless and precise efficiency. I wondered how many times they had done this. They made it look incredibly easy. The armbag straps were criss-crossed over my chest, over my shoulders and fed through the roller buckles. In tandem, each of the workers grabbed a hold of the straps and pulled them toward the sky, almost lifting me off the ground. They were using my own body weight to tighten the device. It felt like my arms were getting a hug. They each secured their respective buckles and then locked it with a small but heavy master lock.

The armbag material was quite soft and breathable to the skin, but this thing was incredibly secure, my arm were simply stuck in position. There were no pressure points but also no wiggle room. My arms were stuck behind me, forearm to forearm with my fingertips grasping my elbows. The paresthesias in my arms were still wearing off. The workers then pushed me a few steps forward until my groins hit workbench forcing me to topple over at the waste until my tits hit the bench top.

Umm did these little bitches just bent me over?

Click, click, click...

I heard the familiar sound of the armbag ratchet tightening. The hug around my arms continued to tighten. "The Boa" was a very appropriate name. As one worker tightened the ratchet the other squeezed my shoulder blades together allowing the ratchet to gain more purchase. After they were satisfied they locked the ratchet mechanism with an additional padlock. They stood me back on my feet. My arms didn't feel that much different, maybe a littler tighter but now with my shoulder blades pressed together I was forced to obnoxiously stick my tits out.

The workers spun my 180 degrees around so that I was facing them. They looked me up and down.

Worker1: how do arms feel? They OK?

I looked her in her eyes and could see that her question was actually genuine. My arms were secure and I could not move them, but honestly, compared to how I was tied on my way over here my arms felt relief. I shrugged and nodded in affirmation that they felt ok.

Worker1: very good, see, we treat you very good, very special.

Worker #2 approached me again with the trauma shears, she cut the crotch rope and then sat down on the rolling stool. She used the rope to slowly and gently remove the vibrating dildo from my pussy. To my embarrassment it was covered in a thick slime from when I came back on the boat. My face turned beet red. Worker #2 noticed my embarrassment, she said, "aww its OK, no shame, no feel bad, they just make example out of you. It's ok". She tossed the sex toy into a plastic tub under the work bench. She inspected the locking device on my clit ring. She tested it to make sure it was securely locked and then flipped on the switch. A lightning bold hit my clit and I yelped and jumped. She quickly turned it back off and mumbled. "battery still good". She rolled around behind me on her stool. She spread my ass cheeks apart and discovered the plug in my ass. That fucking princess plug. I felt like such a stupid whore because I couldn't even blame Serge's crew for that. I had put that plug in my own ass when I gave Tristen his blowjob this morning. Tristen. This was the first time I had thought about him since being taken. I didn't even know if he was still alive, I didn't know what happened to the rest of the people on the cruise. In reality, any survivors of the cruise appeared to be our only hope of ever being rescued. My concentration broke as the worker started to pull at the my plug. Nervous as I was my ass tightened. She slowly and steadily pulled traction on the little plug. "relax, relax she calmy coached, now push ,push, push she instructed." And then "pop", the plug came out easily. "good job! See, now it's out, it's not so bad". She inspected the plug and looked at it curiously, she said something to the other worker in a language I couldn't understand. The workers chatted back and fourth in their native language about the plug.

Worker#1 wiped my pussy and ass down with some baby wipes and then discarded them with her exam gloves in a nearby garbage can. She re-gloved and then positioned the other rolling stool behind me and told me to sit down. I did. I now sat eye to eye with worker number #2 sitting in front of me. She held up the plug and said in her best English, "this plug is not ours, it's too small, where did you get it?

I didn't see the point in asking a gagged girl for an explanation. With the Mouth Lock gag prying my jaw open it was a struggle to answer even simple yes/no questions with any clarity. (Although I think I've improved throughout the day with my grunts and non-verbal communication).

I rolled my eyes in frustration and made an overly-exaggerated feeble attempt to explain myself which ended with a spit chain of drool spilling out from my gaping mouth. I think I made my point: if they wanted an explanation, the were going to have to ungag me.

Worker # 2 zipped around the room on her rolling stool. the set my princess plug aside on the work bench, she discarded her gloves and used some hand sanitized and then parked herself right in front of me.

Worker2: I need to take out your gag now. When I'm done it go back in ok?

I grunted and nodded in affirmation.

She worked her fingers into my mouth and began loosening the finger screws on the jaw jacks. I felt my jaw slowly closing. My jaw was quite sore. When the MouthLock gag was all the way down she opened my mouth with her hand and carefully removed it from and tossed it onto the work bench. I opened and closed my jaw a few times to stretch it out.

Worker2 picked the princess plug and in her best English and repeated, "this plug is not ours. It's too small, where you get it?

I hadn't spoken for a while and my mouth was dry. "'s mine, from home, before all this. Same with these shoes that are locked on my ankles. My boyfriend and I were on a private cruise. This morning we were playing a little game. He thought it would be fun if I went tanning with that plug in my ass and if I was locked in my high heels. It was fun. So that's where I was when the kidnappers came and took me. When Serge discovered my that my ass was plugged and I was locked in my shoes they made fun of me for being such a slut. Serge could tell how humiliated I was and he liked it, so he decided to leave them on me to further my humiliation."

Worker2: ahh I see, he's a bad man...very bad man.

Worker1: you need water.

She handed brought a bottle with a rubber nipple on it, like what a baby would drink from. I was parched so I pursed my lips around the bottle, she squeezed the water into my mouth and I accepted greedily, chugging as much as I could. After I had finished drinking she set the bottle aside.

Worker2: we need to hurry, don't want to make the bad man mad.

With some trauma shears she gnawed through the straps off of my locking Louboutons and they fell to the floor. She discarded them in the nearby bucket.

"Hey! Those are 3 thousand dollar shoes!" I exclaimed.

Worker1: you have no need for them here. No time for chit chat, time for your gag.

"No, no please" I begged. Out of all the wretched things done to me today being gagged was what I hated the most.

Worker2 approached me with the MouthLock.

Worker1 threatened me with her taser.

Worker1: everyone gets gagged, you no different, don't be silly little girl, now you open wide.

I started to tear up, trying to fight back my tears, I gulped. I saw the futility in resisting and the taser scared me. I opened my mouth.

Worker2's gloved hand pulled my cheek to the side and worked the metal cage into position behind my teeth with her other hand. Once in situated she began to expand the device, working the finger screw jacks. The cage expanded and started to press on my teeth forcing my jaw open wider and wider. I groaned with the pressure on my jaw. My jaw was still sore from earlier. She expanded it even wider than before. Seemingly satisfied she asked "can you spit out"

I shook my head no.

"Try to spit out" she commanded.

I flicked my tongue at the cross bar and shook my head violently side to side trying to dislodge it. It was secure.

"Good" worker2 said in approval.

My control collar hadn't been touched. At the front of it it had a large ring. Worker1 approached me with a new device. It was a bright red bulb dangling from a little chain about a foot long. Also attached to the bulb was a piece of black tubing with with an additional black bulb in it that had a little metallic screw valve on it, like those seen on a blood pressure cuff. With a small lock she secured the chain to me collar. She brought the bulb up to my face and gave it a few pump. The red bulb inflated like a balloon, she released the screw valve and with a hiss the red bulb shrunk back down to its original size.

Worker2: see this keeps you quiet when you sleep and when they aren't using you mouth.

With some sort of screw mechanism she secured the metal valve to the back of my collar. Then she put the red bulb into my gaping mouth and started to pump it up. The red bulb filled my mouth completely to the point that I could no longer breath through my mouth. I started to panic but then I realized I could still breath through my nose. With just the mouth lock in place it was basically impossible to saw anything intelligible, but now with the pump gag inflated make any noise at all was impossible. I was completely silenced.

Worker1: see, no more chit chat. We get you ready. Big party tonight.

Worker1 then locked a short leash to my collar and let it dangle from me neck. The 2 workers worked in tandem. One gathered up my hair into a high ponytail and the other one zip tied it very tight with a zip tie. Then using some black parachute cord she started wrapping my ponytail tighter and tighter. I glanced at the nearby mirror. As she wrapped it tight my pony tail started to stand erect, making me some 6 inches taller, as she finished binding my ponytail she secured a D-ring to the top of it. Worker2 grabbed my ponytail by the binding and gave it a firm and unexpected yank backward forcing my neck to extend. She had my full attention.

Worker2: see, now your hair good handle for the bad men.

What were they doing to me? They are making me so incredibly helpless and vulnerable. Mouth open and plugged with my arms uselessly folded up behind me with a fucking handle on my head. This was bad.

Next Worker1 rolled in front of me on her stool holding what appeared to be some ankle boots. But they were no ordinary ankle boots. They were made of a material similar to the arm bag. Thick meshed kevlar. She worked them on one by one. She slipped my foot inside and I heard a familiar ratcheting noise like those on the armbag. She was twisting a knob on the back of the boot which was cinching the boot closed. It fit like a glove. When she was done with both of them she told me to stand. As I stood up she pulled my short leash toward the ceiling tossed the loop of my leash over a hook dangling from the ceiling. With the press of a button on the wall the hook ascended and pulled my leash relatively tight, but not enough to choke me, but I could no longer sit down.

A little unsteady on my feet I inspected my new footwear. The black Kevlar mesh ankle boots were about 5 inches tall. The provided incredible ankle support. The soles of the shoe seemed sturdy, durable and quite grippy. I tapped my feet around a bit trying to get my balance. The boots were a little a little clunky and would take some getting used to. The sole of the shoes were like a rubber grate. The whole shoe was incredibly breathable, I could feel a draft on my feet. It appeared as if I would be in these shoes for the long leg haul. It's as if they were designed, like the arm bag to be worn continuously, without much need to be removed. A final detail I noticed were small D rings on both the inside and outside of each boot. Worker1 didn't waste any time showing me what those were for. With a simple caribeaner she clipped the boots together locking my legs together.

Next they wrapped a corset around my waste. The boned corset was made of vertical Kevlar ribs held in place by metal wire ratchet system. The top of the corset formed a quarter cup bra. The workers pulled my tits up and then clasped the corset on behind me. Once clasped begins me my tits were kept pushed up absurdly high by the quarter cups. They started tightening the 3 ratchet knobs behind me. Each knob tightened a different part of the corset. I already had an exaggeratedly hourglass figure thanks to squats, yoga, some body sculpting and a few ribs removed a few years ago. After they were done tightening my corset they locked the knobs in place each with their own padlock they spun me around so I could see myself in the mirror.

I looked ridiculous. Almost like a wasp. Between the boots and the ponytail I stood nearly 6 ft tall. I had never seen my waist so tiny or my tits pushed up that high. The corset made my hips and ass look even bigger than normally. My mouth was gaping open and completely plugged with a inflatable bulb. Tears started streaming down my face and my face was beet red.

I struggled and thrashed furiously in my bonds. I hated my stupid little slave girl outfit. I stomped the ground out of frustration my slave boots. After a prolonged outburst I finally fatigued. I noticed that I fatigued quicker not being able to breath through my mouth.

CHAPTER 8: Pharmacology 101

The workers smiled, satisfied with their work and patted me on the shoulder.

Worker2: see, now you look pretty for the bad men.

The workers release the neck chain and sat me down.

Worker1, ok now we make you feel much better!

Worker2 brought out some things I recognized from my work as a nurse. They had a Mayo stand table with some IV equipment. When I saw it I started to panic and tried to struggle.

Worker1 held me in place. With all my bindings I was pitifully easy for the little Asian woman to control. She grabbed me by my ponytail handle and the shoulder. Worker2 prepped under my left collar bone and armpit, then numbed the area and preceded to put in a what I knew as subclavian mediport .The port was buried under my skin hidden away near my armpit. Their technique was actually quit good. After suturing the little incision closed they dressed it with a skim glue dressing. I knew this was bad. I now had convenient long term IV access. I was becoming used to being physically restrained, but now it would be easy for my captors to sedate and control me pharmacologically.

Worker1: good, you almost ready now.

From a little cabinet she pulled out an 1 liter yellow IV bag. The item was familiar. Commonly known as a "banana bag". In the hospital it is typically used for alcoholics that have numerous vitamin and nutritional deficiencies from drinking and not eating. More recently in the age of concierge medicine they have become a part of the "IV hangover therapy" popular on the Las Vegas strip.

The workers pulled several other small medication vials from the medicine cabinet. I was able to see their labels and I knew what they were. Ondansetron, clonazepam, amphetamine, dilaudid, pilocarpene, flibaseran and MDMA. She also pulled some EMLA cream with nitro paste. Although I am not a doctor, as an ICU nurse, i know these meds and what they do. I could see their intentions and I didn't like where this was headed.

Ondansetron: commonly known as zofran is an anti-nausea. Physical distress often manifests as nausea, also almost all the other drugs can cause nausea. The drug centrally inhibits the brainstems emesis pathway and is known to suppress the gag reflex (not that I need help with that).

Clonazepam: commonly known as klonipin is a long acting benzodiazepine, commonly used to treat alcohol withdrawal. It's like Xanax but longer acting and doesn't get you as high. It works well for alcohol withdrawl because it activates the same GABA receptors in the brain. To a non alcoholic like me it will functionally make me drunk, causing disinhibition and a reduction in anxiety. Part of me wants a benzo to calm my nerves but part of me is worried what will happen if to me. It will make me docile, more pliable. I wont be able to fight anyone off. On the contrary, up to this point I have been wildly unsuccessful at fighting off any of my captors. Everything that they have tried to do to me they've succeeded at. Resisting has only gotten me tortured, humiliated and punished. There has been zero opportunities for escape and bound and gagged as I am my odds for escape appear to be growing increasingly slim. Still, I wanted my wits about me and my head on a swivel. The klonipin will sedate me into acceptance. Maybe it's for the best. Regardless, it's not like i have a choice.

Amphetamine: aka speed, this one is pretty simple, this is to counteract the sedating effects of the klonipin. Whatever the slavers have in store for us, they want us awake for it.

Dilaudid: also known as hydromorphone. A synthetic super-opioid 10 times stronger than heroin or morphine. It's wildly addictive IV pain killer. Either they have something very painful planned for us or they want to get us hooked. A junkie will do anything for their fix right? Based on what I've seen so far, these slavers appears to enjoy physically restraining women, but if they get us hooked on opioids the bondage could come off and we would become slaves to the drug. No need for shock collars, chains and mouthlocks, a junkie slavegirl will gladly inhale a cock for a fix.

Pilocarpene: this one is a little more complex, I had to dig deep into my nursing school training. For a moment I was studying to become a CRNA (nurse anesthetist) because they make more money. I gave up on that dream when I realized that girls that have no gag reflex that look like me don't need to make more money. If we play the game right, we get whatever we want. Studying to get into CRNA school required a deeper understanding of pharmacology. Part of me wishes I was more ignorant to the drugs they were giving me. Pilocarpene trade name is Salagen because it generates saliva. It's used to treat conditions that cause dry mouth like Sjögren's syndrome. It also cause secretion of other glands, like the bartholins glands in the vagina. so a side effect is that it makes girls wet. These were some sophisticated sick fucks.

Flibasaren: trade name Addyi, is a relatively new drug made for hypoactive sexual desire disorder in women. Marketed as the female Viagra but with a much different mechanism. Flibasaren activates the libido center in the brain essential making women think about sex more, it simply makes women hornier.

MDMA: ecstasy. This one was easy, they want use, awake, disinhibited, horny, addicted, and feeling good. They want us to start to want and crave things they do to us.

If there was a silver lining, from what I could tell, most of the doses of the drugs were close to or lower than the usual recommended dose.

Vial after vial of aforementioned meds were spiked into the banana bag. Worker2 accessed my IV port with a Huber needle and began infusion the sadistic and ingenious designer drug cocktail. They wrapped the IV bag with some vet wrap fashioning a makeshift rapid infuser. They hung the drug cocktail bag off the back of my collar like it was nothing and started other tasks.

Worker1 stood me up, unclipped my ankle chain and proceeded to bend me over the counter again. This time rougher than before. I grunted into the gag. She knew how helpless I was. She knows that she won't get any sort of annoying protest because of how effectively gagged I am. She knows that I'm on my way to being drugged out of my mind.

The workers now have zero incentive to treat me with any respect any more. And quickly I noticed a change in their rhythm and demeanor. I was no longer a person to them. They also no longer spoke any English. For them, now it was simply quicker and easier to make me do things than to ask for my cooperation.

Worker2 had me bent over the counter, holding my face on the counter top by gripping my ponytail handle. Worker1 rudely kicked the inside of my boots forcing my legs to spread wide. The workers were bickering with each other.

I could feel the drugs start to kick in. I tuned out the chatter. My heart skipped a beat, my eyes fluttered, I felt my face flush. I felt a shiver down my spine and then I felt both warm and cool all over. My vision narrowed and blurred. My focus was up, my anxiety was down, my body tingling and my mind aflight. Euphoria. Given my current circumstance this was consensual euphoria. But given all the misery I've endured today my mind and body welcomed the euphoria. I don't want to feel bad anymore, I want to feel good. This feeling I was feeling felt good, and I drank it up.

With my cheek pressed onto the countertop I became acutely aware that I could see myself in the full length mirror on the wall across from me. I locked eyes with myself in the mirror. I was starting to trip. It's like I saw myself from the third person. I guess an out of body experience. I could see my helpless self being treated like a piece of meat.

My ass was gorgeous, my waste tiny, my mouth wide open and stuffed full. I understood the appeal. I thought to myself, "God damn I am so fucking hot. The guy that buys me is one lucky fuck!"

OMG What the fuck was I thinking? I realize drool is seeping out my mouth around my gag. My cheek is in a puddle of my own drool. The pilocarpene is kicking in making me drool like an animal.

More sick thoughts were invading my brain...Thoughts like "I'm such a helpless whore" and "I deserve to be made into little slavegirl fuck toy".

I typically only think thoughts like that when I'm fantasizing, like when I'm masturbating or getting fucked. Thoughts like that get me off, what are they doing here?! Then I remembered all drugs circulating through me right now against my will. They are playing tricks on my brain.

Theses slavers are tightening their grip and taking control of more and more of me. They have control over my body with restraints, they have taken control over my speech with the gag, but now they are controlling my thoughts with drugs.

The workers stopped their bickering momentarily. Then I felt a slippery fingertip circling my asshole. I prepared myself for the sodomy that I knew was coming. I am no stranger to anal. As I mentioned before, lately I've been experimenting with wearing butt plugs under my clothes out in public. If a guy is into it, I can be easily be talked into anal. I've been able orgasm from it and it turns me on. The trick is knowing how to take it up the ass. Most girls have the tendency to tense up and pucker their asshole. I learned from my pornstar friend that in fact you need to do the opposite. Arch your back down, belly button to to floor, spread your legs a little more than shoulder width apart, point your heels out and your toes inward and most importantly push your asshole out like your trying to have a shit, or "bear down". Doing this makes the asshole ready to open and be stretched.

Currently, I was helpless, bent over the counter with my asshole being lubed up. I didn't need anymore hints that I was about to be anally penetrated. I decided to accept it rather than fight it. A shuffled my feed and wiggled my ass a little to get into the proper position. The worker placed tubes of EMLA cream, KY and nitro paste with the caps off on the counter in front of my face and it all made sense.

EMLA cream is a topical anesthetic cream, nitroglycerin paste relaxes the smooth muscles of the rectum, and KY to lube up my asshole. How thoughtful...

After messaging the medley of creams into my asshole they switched tasks.

They wrapped what looked like a utility belt around my waste. The material was black nylon webbing, like a bit like a rock climbing harness. The belt was complete with multiple holsters and pockets, like what a cop would wear except It had a few other metal cables and straps hanging off of it. They wrapped the belt high around on my corseted narrow waist, above my hips and fastened it tight. Like everything else, they secured it in place with 2 padlocks at the small of my back. The steel cables actually suspended sturdy nylon webbing garter belts which were then secured around my thighs and padlocked.

My pussy was hairless, recently waxed for the cruise. Otherwise I'm sure the workers would have shaved and waxed me. In fact I think I heard the sound of clippers in the stall to my left. Earlier I had spotted clippers, a razor and shaving cream mounted on the wall above the sink. Nevertheless they rubbed Nair cream onto my pussy and armpits. The workers gave my pierced clit a few swirls with their gloved fingers. Then they flipped on the switch to the little vibrating housing that was locked onto my vertical hood clit piercing that Serge introduced me to on the catamaran. The vibrations sent a jolt through my pussy. The gag stifled my gasps and moans. Fuck it felt good.

Next they grabbed a stainless steel butt plug off the wall. It was significantly bigger than my own, and instead of a cute little jewel like mine it, the end of the plug was a metal ring.

By now the EMLA cream and nitro paste had had a chance to work and my ass was ready for the large plug insertion. The worker aligned the tip of the plug with my asshole and with slowly and steady pressure she began to work the plug into my ass. I beared down "like a good whore" and my relaxed asshole accepted the plug without much of a fight and virtually zero pain. My sphincter tightened up around the narrow base of the large plug. I took a few deep breaths through my nose as I got used to the full feeling.

From the workbench wall Worker2 pulled what appeared to be a black 6 inch inch pocket-rocket style vibrator off the wall. It had a metal ring at the base that served as the vibrator on/off switch and intensity setting. Like the butt plug, at the end of the vibrator was a metal islet.

I knew my pussy was already wet. I hated the fact that my pussy was wet. My pussy was wet for so many reasons. First off, they gave me a drug (pilocarpine) that stimulated vaginal and oral secretions, and I wish I could blame it all on that. Second, they gave me the female version of viagra as well as MDMA which are starting to hijack my brains libido center. If that wasn't enough, I'm also wearing vibrating clit ring. Even though it was only turned back on a few moments ago, for the sake of my dignity I was willing blame some of my wetness on that.

In reality, right now I'm searching any excuse for my sopping were pussy to protect myself from the embarrassing fact that on some level, I am truly getting off on my current predicament. It's true, in my personal life get off on being dominated, manhandled, restrained, degraded and objectified and I've come to peace with that. I thought I craved consensual sexual domination, but my current situation suggests otherwise. Right now I'm truly helpless, there are no safe words, no quick release furry hand-cuffs, no sloppily tied wimpy silk scarves that can be easily escaped. Right now is as real as it gets, and I am totally fucked. Being taken against my will, bound, gagged and forced into sexual slavery is awakening one of my deepest darkest sexual fantasies that I've always been too scared to explore. There is a part of my brain right now that is absolutely on fire and tingling with ecstasy. Internally I'm very conflicted. Do I fight it or embrace it? Up to this point I've been fighting it, what good has it done me? I'm still here, fucked as ever. But I'm scared what will happen to me if I let go, give-in and submit to my captors. What kind of weak-willed, sick whore falls in love with her life as a sex slave? What would people think? The cognitive dissonance is too much for me right now. But deep down I know, this is why my pussy is so wet.

The worker aligned the phallic vibrator with my sopping tight slit and with slow and gentle steady pressure she slides it in with ease. With a twist of the base the vibrator comes to live. She toggles through the intensity settings and briefly turns it up all to high. Holy shit this thing was super fucking powerful. I started to writhe, struggle and moan but was held in place. The worker then turned the vibe down to likely its lowest setting which felt like a powerful rumble. she took a length of black parachute cord and passed it through 2 small eyelets in the front belt on either side of my navel, she evened out cord the lengths and then threaded the 2 ends through the ring at the end of the vibrator, and then through the ring at the end of the butt plug, then over the top of my waist belt and pulled it tight so that the parachute cord was acting as a crotch rope that was securely keeping the vibe and plug. Worker2 unexpectedly stood me back up by yanking on my ponytail handle. I struggled to maintain my balance and she steadied me to keep from toppling over. Worker1 adjusted the tension of the parachute cord until she was satisfied that my vibe and plug could not come out. Then she made a half hitch over my belt and tied of the parachute cord in a double knotted bow, like a shoelace. Unlike the the other pieces of bondage, the vibe and plug were not pad-locked in place. Meaning that people without access to the padlock master keys will still have access to all my holes.

Worker1: ok! Now you almost ready! Time to get you clean.

Worker2 started to tidy-up the station.

Worker1 whisked opened the privacy curtain to the stall, and then hooked the leather loop at the end of my 18 inch chain leash with her middle finger and flicked it over her shoulder, similar to how one carries a jacket on a hanger.

I was still a little unsteady with my new shoes, tight bondage and plugged orafices. I was in no position to resist. She led, I followed. She led me down a vast corridor made of more shipping containers. Some of the other girls were finishing up as well. Lulu emerged from the stall next to me, also being led by her respective orderly. We briefly made eye contact. Her pupils were overly dilated from the drugs and her face was flushed. We looked each up and down. Our outfit and bondage were identical to a T. The women that led us by our respective leashes exchanged in ominously casual small talk in their native language as they led us down the corridor.

CHAPTER 9: The Showers

As we were marched down the corridor to our next stop the sound of a cheap AM/FM radio playing some shitty Rhianna song intensified. Apparently Lulu and I were actually the last 2 of the 10 to arrive. The other 8 girls were already organized in a single file line. All 10 were bound, gagged, corseted, drugged and plugged. What I saw next was astonishing.

The slavers had created an ingenious communal showering system. Suspended from the ceiling were multiple hooks mounted onto a mechanical track system. The only place I had ever seen anything like it was a slaughterhouse. The animal carcasses would be hung from the hooks and left to bleed out, or dry age or whatever the hell they do with them. Instead, here each of the slave girls short leashes were placed on the hooks. With activation of the mechanical track, all 10 of us would be led in unison through the showers.

The showers were like an assembly line, staffed with around a dozen little asian women on both sides. They were wearing jumpsuits like worker1 and 2 but also sported rain-boots and elbow length rubber dishwashing gloves.

Lulu and I were each attached to a ceiling hook at the end of the single file line. Without much warning the mechanical track above us came to life, what little slack that was in our leashes was quickly pulled taught and as a unit we pulled unceremoniously by our necks into the shower room and there was nothing we could do about it.

Once in the showers we were dowsed with a high pressure hose. A pleasant surprise was that the water was quit warm. The radio was now playing Maroon5's "this love". After being soaked workers lathered up our bound bodies from head to toe with car washing mitts. Some of them were humming along to the shitty songs on the radio. The soap smelled cheap and floral, I think I recognized it as Herbal Essences. The workers scrubbed as best they could in the attire that we were in. To be honest it actually felt quite good. I am sure we all smelled quite rank. They say stressed-induced perspiration smells the worst, and to call today "stressful" would sadly be a gross understatement.

It was very difficult for me to focus in the shower. Between my bindings, the high heels, the vibrator, the drugs, the radio, the soap suds all while being dragged by my neck, it was hard for my brain to form a rational thought. In a moment of clarity I began to see the ingenuity to our attire. It was all "shower friendly". There was minimal use of leather, our high-heeled boots, corset and box-tie armbinder were made of that thick meshed kevlar material that allowed for the passage of water without any absorption. So after being thoroughly lathered up and scrubbed clean the soap suds were washed off with a high pressure hose. The meshed kevlar bindings kept us securely bound but still allowed for a thorough cleaning.

Putting it all together, I concluded this was bad news for us slaves. It meant that they could keep us bound without a sacrificing the health or hygiene of their slaves. Considering the amount to effort it took to get us trussed up like this, I understood their reluctance to redo it frequently. Not to mention, every time a slave is released from her bondage, it is an opportunity for escape.

Toward then end of the shower we were blasted from all angles with industrial strength blow dryers, like at the end of a car wash.

A large curtain signified the end of the showering process. The overhead mechanical track system came to a halt. For the moment it was silent and we appeared to be alone under a heating lamp.

The 10 of us instinctively huddled our bound bodies together under the lamp as much as our leashes would allow, waiting for what was next.

CHAPTER 10: Hair & Makeup

10 of us stood there huddled together. We were all identically bound, gagged, plugged and drugged like before, but now, squeaky clean and bone dry. It became clear, whatever is next in store for us, it will come from the other side of the curtain.

Beyond the curtain I heard a heavy metal door open followed by many footsteps and A LOT of chatter and giggling in Vietnamese.

The curtain was swung open and we were greeted by an unexpected and comical group of individuals.

Lady-boys, a gang of lady-boys. At first glance I thought they were strippers but after closer examination I realized they were actually trans men. There were 10 of them, one for each of us. Each of them were as eccentrically dressed as you would imagine. Neon colored fishnets, silk robes, stilettos...the works. They wore control collars around their necks indicating that they weren't working here voluntarily but their flamboyant attitudes would almost have you believe otherwise.

One of the ladyboys pranced his fruity self way toward our dazed and confused little slave huddle and greeted us with a beaming disposition.

"Hi my name Lance, pleasure you meet y'all! I know, I wish it was under better circumstances"

He said with an annoying frowny/pouty facial expression.

"But that won't stop us from having fun! Me and the gang are in charge of making sure y'all look absolutely fabulous for the big party tonight. Let's go boyz!" Lance said with a snap his fingers.

The ladyboys mobilized and surrounded us and unhooked our leashes from the hooks overhead and lead us into what could be described as a makeshift beauty salon. "Kiss" by Prince was playing from a boombox in the corner.

After some untangling and shuffling of bodies Lance was the one I saw at the other end of my leash.

"Hi sweetie, pleasure to meet you! Wow you are gorgeous! Come right this way baby, we are going to have fun, I'm not going to hurt you, just relax"

He led me over to his station and sat me on a swivel chair in front of a well lit mirror. Fuck, the combination of the drugs and the vibrator were making it hard to concentrate.

Lance: "alright honey, let's get started, I know you have questions, but trust me honey, now is not the time. We both don't want to be here (he pointed to his control collar) but we don't really have a choice now do we? So let's make the best of a bad situation, k?"

I nodded in affirmation

Lance: "great, lets get you cleaned up"

He started by cleansing my face with a cotton pad, then he whipped out a few color guides and held them up to my face trying to match my skin tone.

"You look a like a cafe au lait girl to me"

He started generously applying foundation to my face. His technique was good, but he used way more than I typically did. Then concealer, powder, bronzer and blush. He was actually quite talented, he was even utilizing some subtle contouring techniques.

Alright honey, all done with your face, now lets make those eye Pop!

He expertly applied charcoal and rose' colored eyeshadow, followed by black eyeliner and a generous amount of mascara. He moved out of the way of the mirror.

Goddam I looked so fucking hot. I kind of hated how good I looked. These people didn't deserve me.

Lance: "you like?"

The answer to his question was complex. Yes I liked the way he did my make up, but I didn't like my situation, or the reason why he was doing my makeup. Since being taken this was the first time in a while that anyone had asked me my opinion on anything. Gagged as I was I had I had to resort to my best non-verbal communication. I looked him in the eyes as sincerely as I could, slowly blinked and nodded once while grunting "uh huh" through my nose as best as I could. Lance got the idea, he was touched, and he gave me a hug, we shared a moment and I felt tears coming, I sniffled. "Aw sweetie don't cry, its ok" he grabbed a cotton ball and tried to catch my tears as they came to preserve my masterful makeover.

Out of respect for Lance I fought back the tears, I didn't want to ruin all his hard work. I took a deep breath and regained my composure.

Lance: "Thank you sweetie, I know this is rough. I am going to take the inflatable gag out to do your lips now, ok?"

I nodded meekly.

With a turn of the screw valve the gag hissed as it deflated in my mouth. He popped it out and let it dangle from the chain attached to my collar. The MouthLock still kept my jaw stretched open beyond it natural limits. Without the inflatable gag in place, a copious amount of thick saliva poured from my oral cavity. I guess the inflatable gag had been holding it in.

Lance grabbed a towel and carefully wiped my mouth trying not to smear my freshly done makeup. "I see they gave you the drool drug" he said, referring to the SalaGen (pilocarpine).

"Ok here's what we are going to do, lets tilt your head back, try your best to swallow your spit while I knock out your lips.

I nodded and tilted my head back.

Lance worked quickly applying a matte pink lipstick to my full lips. Once satisfied he said, "ok now I'm going to put the inflatable gag back in to keep the drooling at that's how they want you, K?"

It wasn't ok, but I knew it was going to happen.

With my head still tilted back he worked the gag passed my lips and teeth into my gaping mouth. With one hand he kept it straight and centered as he pumped it up with the other. I felt the gag expanding in my mouth, first depressing my tongue, then it made contact with the roof of my mouth, with another pump it expanded into my cheeks, and with a final pump it bulged into the back of my throat.

I could no longer breath through my mouth, but easily through my nose

Lance: ok that's 7 pumps, does that feel ok? I nodded.

"Ok good let's take a look", he tilted my head forward and moved behind me so we could both see myself in the mirror.

"You look absolutely delicious" he whispered in my ear.

He was right, my makeup was immaculately done. I tried my best to give him adequate praise for a job well done by nodding and grunting a few times.

"Normally I would like to do your hair too, but they seem to like it up in that ridiculous handle thingy..."

"Ok, now for some final touches"

He sprinkled me with some glitter and spritzed with a generous amount of knock-off channel #5. I smelled like a stripper.

Ok, they want us to put these little tags on you. They have a message for the customers inscribed on them. I'll read you what it says, k?

Lance read the card:

"[Hello Sir,

I am a new slave, captured only hours ago. Please feel free to use me as you see fit for your pleasure. Please excuse any defiant or disobedience behavior as I have not been broken and properly trained yet. My strict bondage attire is here for your safety and is part of my training. I am not to be trusted. I am wearing MouthLock gag so am unable to bite you. I hope you find this amusing. Use me for as long as you like. When you are done, please return me to this location, exactly as you found me.


Your unbroken slave]"

Lance: "This kinda lets you know what you have in store. Try to relax and enjoy it sweetie" he said as he kissed me on the cheek.

He clipped the tag to my collar and led me to the back of the room with the others. All 10 of us were now glowing with beauty. By now the bondage, drugs and vibrators had taken their toll. We were all completely helpless and very horny. We were indeed ready for the party.

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