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Breaking, Breaking, Broken


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I dream I'm being fucked, deep and slow, and revel in how fantastic it feels as a cock slides in and out of me. I can't tell who's fucking me, but they're doing a fantastic job of it. I try to stretch, but a weight seems to be holding me down. I can't move, I can just accept it.

It feels sooooo gooooood.

I wake to a moment of drugged confusion as I think that my pussy is now so sensitive it feels like the dildo is fucking me.

Then I realise it really is fucking me.

The dildo is moving in and out with long, steady, unvarying strokes. I can faintly hear a hydraulic hiss and mechanical clack before an orgasm rolls over me long and languid and smooth.

I fight to retain awareness, to wake up properly, but there are still drugs trickling into my system.


I hear a voice in my dreams. "I am Master."

I know I'm tied down and being fucked into one delirious orgasm after another. I can feel ecstasy rolling through my body, before and after his voice.

"I am Master."

I drift to the surface, confusion battling memory as I try to sort out delicious dream from nightmare.

"I am Master."

I remember that the fucking is real, the dildo is real. The voice is real.

"I am Master."

I recognise Rutherford's voice. My eyes manage to open just enough to see blurs above me. His face resolves out of the blur, looking stern but kind.

"I am Master," he says. I see his lips move.

He's above me. I don't know if it's him or the dildo that's fucking me. It still feels like the relentless mechanical dildo, but his fingers were like that. Maybe he has that much discipline.

"I am Master," he says.

I make a mighty effort to wake up enough to tell him to go fuck himself, but the drugs keep me warm and fuzzy and detached and my mouth just doesn't have the energy.

"I am Master, you are fuckslut."

Orgasm rolls over me.

"I am Master, you are fuckslut."

Right in the middle of the orgasm, the burst of heat and ecstasy: "I am Master, you are fuckslut."

My struggle to wake up exhausted me.

I slip away.

"You are fuckslut."


A spike of pure ecstasy catapults me out of a confused, formless dream about hands all over my body.

My nipples scream at me, waking me up enough to actually focus, really focus, on my surroundings.

I still can't move my head, but I manage to look down enough to see two cylinders pointing at my nipples, with air lines running from them.

The suction on my nipples, the pressure, fades as the dildo withdraws. The drugs try to take me back down, but I hold on grimly.

The dildo begins to push back in, and pressure on my nipples grows, sending pleasure straight to my cunt. They're sucked, but they're also squeezed. I can vaguely see a membrane inside the cylinders, contracting with the pressure, squeezing my nipples from the sides.

This orgasm hits hard, and smacks me back down into the drugged depths.


Searing ecstasy banishes all effects of the drugs from my system. I howl as I strain against my bonds.

"You are fuckslut. You are only good for your flesh."

Oh god, there's one of those suction things on my clit.

I scream as it starts again.

"You are fuckslut."

My body is on fire as my nipples, my clit, my cunt are stimulated all at once.

"You are fuckslut."

I scream again.

The orgasm wipes me out completely.


I wake up lying on a hard bed with nothing covering me, in a warm padded cell.

I wake up fast. In seconds, I have scouted the room, noting the camera, the speaker, and a set of manacles lying on the floor.

I'm not sore. I heal so quickly I've already recovered from the pounding, and the stimulation, and the orgasms. However long I was out, was enough.

I'm not thirsty, though, or hungry. Intravenous drip, probably.

"Good morning!"

There is so little crackle through the speaker I wonder if he's really just on the other side of it.

"Fuck you," I say, automatically.

"Put the manacles on, with your hands behind you, kneel, and wait for my guards. Disobey me or them in any way, and they will tase you, then one of them will fuck you in the arse."

I get up, take a step, and pick up the manacles. There's a sturdy collar connected by short chains to two thick handcuffs which are themselves chained together. Wearing them would put my arms crossed behind my back.

I hurl them at the wall. "Come get some," I say.

The guards cheat. They don't open the door first. They must have fucking hatches in the walls or something.

The first Taser dart hits me in the right buttock, making me convulse but I clamp down on my scream.

The second one hits me in the left breast.

Then the door bursts open, while I'm not in any immediate condition to do anything about them as they pile in.

Another Taser dart slams into my right thigh, then they're jamming shocksticks into me.

I go down twitching uncontrollably.

They keep jamming the shocksticks into me, making me dance on the floor, then kick me until between muscle contractions and their kicks, I'm lying face-down.

Then they pile on, a very professional takedown, two to each limb, one pressing down hard on my head and one kneeling in the middle of my back.

Someone smears a thick dollop of something cold and slippery on my arse before sliding right on in.

It fucking hurts. It's a searing, tearing pain. He's not being gentle or easing his way in, it's just in and get down to business.

I try to hurl them off me, but I'm just extra strong, not super strong, and what seems like 10 trained guys bigger than me have no trouble keeping me there.

A sound manages to seep out between my lips before I clamp down on any others, but I can't stop them entirely.

The fucker takes too long about it. Maybe he's really disciplined, maybe he gets this a lot and he's a bit desensitised.

Pulling out hurts almost as much as pushing it in did.

Then they close the manacles on my neck, wrench my arms into position and shackle them, and then haul me to my feet.

I'm just about recovering from the Tasers and the shocksticks, but having fully-grown fucktards holding my legs down, and being arse-raped, mean I can barely walk. But it turns out that it's walk or be hit by a shockstick while hanging from either my neck or my hair, so I manage to walk.

Fuckstick Rutherford is waiting in a room too far down a featureless corridor.

He doesn't even say hello, his goons just march me up to a sort of chair and slam me into it.

The back is cut out for my manacles. Something clips onto the collar, holding my head in place.

Straps go around my ankles, shins, knees and thighs.

I'm not really sitting, because my thighs are at 45 degrees down and then there's a right-angle in my knees, but I'm being held up. I am anything but comfortable.

"Who am I?" he asks me when the goons have gone. He's holding a violet wand with a funny pointed end on it.

"Fuckstick Rutherford," I say. I've just been tasered, shocked repeatedly and then anally raped. I don't fucking care what he's going to do.

I have forgotten what he said he would do.

He jams the wand right against my clit.

He holds it there.

I scream, because I can't help it. I keep screaming because he doesn't take it away.

By the time he stops, there are tears running my face, snot running out of my nose, and I'm about to throw up.

"Who am I?" he asks, in precisely the same tone of voice.

I can't get my breath to say anything. I'm gasping and nearly choking, trying to clear my nose, and my mouth, and catch enough breath to run my vocal cords.

He taps me lightly on the clit again.

I scream again.

"Get your breath faster," he says. "Who am I?"

"Master!" I manage to gasp, although it's more sort of a bubble. "Master!"

"Who are you?"

For a moment, I don't even remember.

Obviously, I delayed too long.

I barely have breath to scream that time, but I do anyway.

"Who are you?"


"Who are you?"


He taps me for half a second, but it's still enough to make me scream.

"Who are you?"

"I'm fuckslut!" I'm absolutely desperate to get it right.

He doesn't tap me again.

"Who are you?"

"I'm fuckslut."

"Who are you?"

"I'm fuckslut."

"Who are you?"

"I'm fuckslut."

I feel his fingers on my right nipple spreading cold ointment in slow, even, gentle circles. My body remembers this so well my nipple stands to immediate attention.

Apparently, at some point my eyes stopped focusing on anything.

"Who are you?"

"I'm fuckslut."

Cool fingers, moving evenly, steadily, smoothly, rhythmically, all around my nipple.

"Who are you?"

"I'm fuckslut." I hear a slight catch in my voice.

Slow, steady, massaging fingers on my nipple.

"Who are you?"

"I'm fuckslut." My voice is definitely ragged.

Cool, gentle fingers on a hot, burning, needy nipple.

"Who are you?"

"I'm... fuckslut!"

His fingers go away.

"Who are you?"

"I'm fuckslut!"

His fingers come back, this time on my left nipple. It hardens just as quickly.

"Who are you?"

"I'm fuckslut!"

I beg, I plead, I sob, but all I actually say is those two words, and all he does is ask, and gently rub.

He asks, I reply, he rubs, I try to writhe in my bonds. I have more freedom of movement in this chair. My torso can move between my hips and my neck. It means my wanton flesh can offer itself to him, demonstrate how weak it is.

He takes his fingers away when I'm almost unable to answer coherently. I hang, gasping almost as though I had just orgasmed.

"Who are you?"

"I... I'm... fuckslut."

Wet, cold, slippery fingers push into my cunt.

My cunt spasms violently. I come.

I scream.

"Who are you?"

"I'm fuckslut!"

Long, patient fingers sliding in and out of me, rubbing ointment all over my insides.

"Who are you?"

"I'm fuckslut!"

Long, steady, even, patient strokes of his fingers in and out and in out and in and out of my hot, needy, grovelling cunt.

"Who are you?"

"I'm fuckslut!"

He keeps asking. He keeps finger-fucking me. I answer. I sob. I become incoherent. I become totally unable to speak, but he must be happy with my attempts to speak, because he doesn't punish me, he just keeps sliding in and out of me while I have two more orgasms.

When he pulls his fingers out, my face is wet with tears and snot and I'm pretty sure I've drooled onto my breasts. My body aches all over.

Fingers press wet ointment against my clitoris.

"Who are you?"

I don't even answer one time coherently.

He doesn't punish me, though. He just rubs, gently, evenly, around and around and around and I come and I come and I come.

When I drag myself back to some sort of consciousness, he has cleaned my face without me noticing. My nipples still throb, my cunt and clit are full of exquisitely erotic pain from their abuse and how hard I came, and my traitorous parahuman body is begging for more.

There is a dildo inside me.

"Who are you?"

"I'm fuckslut."

I don't even think. I just react. It just comes out as naturally as breathing. I realise I really should be crazily mad about that. I'm not. I don't have the energy.

"Who am I?"


"From now on, every time I give you an order, you obey or be punished. Every time I ask you a question, you always respond with my name as well as your answer. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."

He doesn't say "Good," or anything, he doesn't reward me, he just doesn't punish me.

I realise I'm pathetically grateful for that.

"That dildo is self-lubricating. It pumps a little more ointment out every time it moves. Every time it enters you, you will say who you are. Every time it pulls out, you will say who I am."

He presses a button.

That's all the warning I get.

"I'm fuckslut!" I gasp out.

Oh god, I'm so horny. I'm so needy. My body is so trained. It pushes into me and I'm on fire for it.

It goes deep, almost as deep as I can bear, before pulling out.

"You're Master!" I remember to say.

The dildo doesn't quite pull out before reversing direction.

"I'm fuckslut!"

It slides all the way in oh god it feels so good I can't stand it I will come and I know it will not stop moving it'll just keep stroking oh god it's pulling out.

"You're Master!"

In, long and slow and steady, making my entire body helplessly weak and my mind delirious.

"I'm fuckslut!"

Out, making me want to beg it to stay inside me.

"You're Master!"

In, pushing a wave of orgasm ahead of it.

"I'm fuuuuuck!"

I don't say it properly, but he doesn't punish me.

"You're... Mas...ter."

In, and already it's pushing me towards my next orgasm.

"I'm fuckslut!"

Out I can't believe how close I am already I can't believe I'm reacting like this i can't believe i want it so bad i can't...

"You're Master!"

"I'm fuckslut! You're Master! I'm fuckslut! You're Master! I'm fuck..."


I dream it. It echoes in my head.I'm fuckslut, you're Master, i'm fuckslut, you're Master, as the words themselves tear orgasm after orgasm from me, drilling themselves into my mind and body.

I dream over and over again.I'm fuckslut you're Master I comei'm fucklust you're Master i'm fuckslut I'm comingyou're Master.

I wake up.

Same bed, same cell, I think. Not thirsty or hungry. Not needing the toilet, either. I have a slight feeling that they inserted a catheter in me while I was unconscious.

"Good morning, fuckslut! Put the manacles on, hands in front of you, kneel, and wait for my guards."

I roll off the bed, landing heavily, still withi'm fuckslut, you're Master, revolving around my head, still with memory echoes exploding between my legs.

The manacles this time are rigid, a tall fleece-lined steel collar with two rods attached at 45 degrees off centre, cuffs on the end, so my hands will be held up level with my neck.

I go cold inside.

I finally wake up properly.

Drugs and pain do not change who I am.

I hurl the manacles at the wall again, and rise to my feet.


Taser darts slam into both breasts at once, and one thigh.

I hit the ground screaming.

They burst in. They shock me. They hold shocksticks against me until I almost smell burning.

They kick me until I'm lying face down. They pin me. They lube me. One of them fucks me.

He's no quicker than the first guy.

As they hold me on the slightly yielding, cool floor, my nipples ache and my cunt aches as tearing pain fills my arse.

I get angry. The voice in my head stops.

They shackle me, they march me. I'm in so much pain I don't care and I try to punch one halfway along the corridor. They shock me until they have to carry me the rest of the way.

In the room, they attach a bar between my ankles, then make me kneel on some sort of bizarre framework. They push me down into a hands and knees position. Another metal cuff goes around my belly, tightly, pressing between my hips and my floating ribs to hold me in place. More straps go over my calves. The bar between my wrists is locked to the frame.

"My guards are carrying out my orders, disobeying them is disobeying me," fuckstick says behind me, before holding the wand against my clit.

I don't see it coming, but I swear there is no gap between it touching me, and me screaming.

When he takes it away I go limp and hang there, highly uncomfortable, head down, gasping for breath, snot filling my inverted nose.

"Who am I?" he asks.

It's a fresh start, my mind isn't scrambled with sex yet, so I almost try to defy him before the words push themselves out of me. "You're Master."

"Who are you?"

"I'm fuckslut."

"Fucksluts do what Masters tell them."

I scream again, trying to writhe away from the wand.

I'm hanging, gasping for breath, recovering, when insistent fingers start spreading cool ointment around my right nipple.

My body responds almost quicker than my mind does. My body wants this. My weak, traitorous body is already craving his touch and trying to move into it. My body is begging for him to continue, to do what he wants with me, to give me those orgasms.

I'm gasping and whining by the time he moves around me to reach my left nipple.

I'm trying to hump the air by the time he moves behind me. Sweat is running down my face. I'm breathing raggedly but this time because my body is burning with lust. I can't help any of this. He's broken my body. He's making it respond to his touch. He's trained me that well, already.

Two cool, wet fingers slip straight into me and I welcome them.

"Who am I?"

"You're Master."

I don't even think about responding, it just happens, and it makes me feel warmer.

"Who are you?"

"I'm fuckslut."

Just saying that puts me a step closer to the orgasm that's already almost upon me.

"Who am I?"

"You're Master."

I can hear a whine in my voice as my body tries to fuck back against his fingers.

"Who are you?"

"I'm fuckslut!"

I'm teetering on the verge of orgasm already. All I am is a bundle of nerves and fuckflesh.

"Who am I?"

"You're Masterrrr!"

I come violently.

He keeps stroking inside me.

"Who are you?"

"I'm fuckslut."

I barely get it out. My head is hanging, I'm nearly choking on air, my body is on fire, my cunt is greedily swallowing his fingers.

"Who am I?"

He pushes me through another orgasm before withdrawing his fingers.

I assume I keep responding. I'm not sure if my mouth makes the words or it just happens inside my head.

It keeps happening inside my head. The words keep circling my brain.

You're Master, i'm fuckslut, You're Master, i'm fuckslut, You're Master, i'm fuckslut...

Cool, wet fingers touch my clitoris.

I cry out. There must be words in it, my mouth is shaping them without me needing to think about it, now.

Another orgasm. More words, over and over again.

More stroking, more words, more desperate burning need.

You're Master, i'm fuckslut, You're Master, i'm fuckslut, You're Master, i'm fuckslut...

More stroking, more words.

Another orgasm, this one almost wiping me out.

I dimly hear him moving something. I dimly hear his feet behind me. I know my cunt is pointing straight at him, and I'm desperate for him to push something, anything, else inside me.

He does.

It might be the same dildo. My body remembers what it did to me, and a spasm shakes every part of me.

"Lift your head."

I don't even think about it. I just obey.

A dildo slides underneath my mouth, mounted on its own frame.

"Can fuckslut deep-throat?"

"Yes, Master."

"This cock detects your movements. If you move, the cock in your slavecunt will move. If you do not move, then this will happen."

Two violet wands press into my nipples.

I scream until after they've already gone away.

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