cloeslut: Broken Pony, Puppy, And Milk Cow... PERFECT Slave
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is the final part for poor Chloe. I’d like to thank the requester for giving me the idea of what she was seeking. I hope you all enjoy this, and PLEASE, let me know if you wish to have a story of your own.
chloeslut pulled her Master’s cart, like the obedient animal she had finally become. While her initial acceptance of her situation had occurred shortly after her piercings, she had still not fully embraced what she had become.
Indeed, she had, in fact, gone through her very own five stages of grief. In her case, mourning the loss of the life and existence she had previously known. He had fully expected this, of course, and he had used this knowledge to both further her training and breaking, and judge her progress.
Denial had been first, and she’d tried to fight and resist, during her initial capture, and then sporadically the first week. These failed efforts were always accompanied with anger, at him, at the situation, but mostly at herself. He took advantage of that, and always made it a point of reminding her that it was her own actions that had brought her to his attention.
She’d tried denying this and would shake her head in an effort to refuse to accept her new destiny and situation.
The repeated beatings served to drive home her reality.
Just as her forced sexual service reminded her daily of her true purpose.
Since she was never allowed to speak, and anytime she’d tried she’d been punished, severely, he was spared the “bargaining” step. He’d long ago gotten bored with the same tired lines repeated over and over again by the countless slaves he’d captured, broken, trained, and sold. There was nothing new she could say to him, so he didn’t bother giving her the chance.
This denial of even the ability to speak, and her forced piercings, had helped to protel her headlong into the fourth stage, depression.
chloeslut had been more or less obedient but sullen. Simply going through the motions of any training he used. She resisted when tortured, she wasn’t that capable of disconnection, but other than that she seemed completely out of touch with reality.
He worked hard to put her in the moment, using pain, and/or severe stimulation, usually of her newly pierced clit and soaking wet cunt to keep her from escaping into herself. At the same time, using severe bondage to never let her ignore the truth of her situation: she was here to be used.
It was obvious to him, early on, that she’d still been holding out some hope that she might be rescued; might still be able to beat the odds and regain her freedom. She seemed to cling to this hope with a desperation he’d not seen for a long time. She was always looking to the door of the dungeon, or looking around anxiously anytime he took her outdoors to train her.
He always chuckled at the new level of defeat she suffered when she found herself, at the end of a training session, once again back in the dungeon, bound as she had been the day before, and the day before that.
He used that to push her further and further into her slavery, and over the last six months had made sure that the possibility of “rescue” had been completely erased from her mind.
Of course, that was not the only thing that he had erased.
He’d erased every aspect of her former personality and the person that she was. For him breaking a slave was an art to be savored, and it was to be done as thoroughly as possible.
The result was awe-inspiring. Five months ago, four months ago, even two months ago, if she had somehow, remarkably, regained her freedom. There was still a chance that she could have regained something that resembled a normal life. She would’ve, of course, required years of therapy, and psychological help, but it would have been possible.
Now, she could never be free again. The simple reason was that she no longer knew how to be free.
Freedom was for persons, for human beings, individuals that possess their own sense of self-worth, and individuality. For the slave formerly known as Chloe, all those things had been stripped away and eradicated from her psychological makeup.
Whether it had been through repeated forced orgasms, and then the punishment for orgasms that she had no permission for. Or being held, just at the edge of orgasm four minutes, sometimes hours, denied that release, crushing her psychological resistance, or even the vicious infliction of pain, and degradation.
These tools, and others, had been used by her owner to completely subjugate chloeslut to his will. To take away all concepts of “person”, “woman”, “human”, and “me” or “I”.
She had accepted her classification as an “it”.
Servitude had become her lot, disobedience, an impossible contemplation. Now she embraced her servitude as if that was all she had ever known.
Indeed, in many ways, it was.
Her pony training, was a perfect example of this. When she had first been strapped into her harness, and the bit and bridal wrapped around her head, she had balked at the realization of what he inteded. She mentally jerked away from the very idea of being nothing more than an animal.
He had dealt with that resistance quite simply. He had strapped electrified vibrators into both her cunt and ass, both coated in a Habanero Pepper paste. This same paste was liberally applied to her pierced clit as well.
The pain, as expected, did its job, and made it feel like her asshole, cunt, and clit were literally being burned from her body. She had never imagined such pain in her entire life.
Added to that, the occasional electric shocks from the dildos, made the pain even more pronounced, and she had literally no place to escape to.
During all this, he continued to use the buggy whip, forcing chloeslut’s struggling, straining, and suffering form to continue always moving forward, pulling the cart, just like the trained animal he sought her to be.
After that session, it was a very contrite, and desperate to please a slave girl that was strapped to the buggy the next time.
Every attempt at resistance, whatever form it took, always met the same kind of fate.
Whether she tried to hesitate as she pulled a cart, or the first time she tried to struggle as she was strapped into her puppy suit, or the first time her Master attached her swollen breasts to the milk machine. Whatever the situation, she was always taught that even the slightest hesitation, the slightest resistance, even the perception of refusal was met with horrific brutal punishment.
And so, faced with that overwhelming level of domination, where any resistance, or even the perception of it, was met with savage pain, and brutal torture ensuring she bent to the will of the person training her, a will that proved to be unbending and unyielding in its demands of perfect instant obedience, and complete and utter submission, it was no shocked at all that Chloe surrendered, accepted, and then abandoned all sense of herself in order to survive.
What now pulled the pony cart, was what was left. A biological masturbation and amusement tool.
Three fuck holes, two tits to milk or punish, and flesh for torture, and modification.
A simple slave, called, chloeslut. An animal so low, it’s name didn’t even deserve capitalization.
As her training continued, seemingly unending, chloeslut had become exactly what she was intended to be from the moment her Master first kidnapped her.
Her days were spent either pulling her Master’s cart, perfecting her pony training, or, locked in a puppy suit, arms, and legs folded up, forcing her to walk on her knees and elbows, and perform tricks for his amusement.
Sometimes, when he was feeling kind, her face was left uncovered, most times, however, it was completely encased in a leather hood, rendering her blind and deaf. During these times her Master oftentimes would play, “remote-control puppy”.
In this case, she would have electrified dildos in her cunt and ass, electrified clamps on her nipples and clit.
The lessons and directions were very simple.
A shock on her left nipple meant to go right.
A shock on her right nipple meant to go right.
A shock in her cunt was for forward, and in her ass for backward.
Shocks to her clit were administered if she hesitated, made a mistake, or simply for amusement.
As with her pony training, the repeated training in the puppy suit had, slowly, bypassed her conscious mind completely. Now, after months, and months of this training, she didn’t even need to think about her directions anymore.
She might as well have been a true remote-control animal for all the level of conscious thought she was capable of. She obeyed without thought or hesitation. More than once, for his own amusement, her Master had walked her right into a wall, just to see if she would follow her signals and continue to do it if so directed.
In every case, she had done exactly that.
Mindlessly, automatically, and obediently…almost, desperately so.
She had so fully embraced her role as an animal in fact, when put outside, chained by her collar, she sat obediently on all fours, without her suit, waiting like the obedient pet she was.
As hard as the training was, during the day, her evenings were not, in any way, a time of relaxation. In fact, when a stray thought did, occasionally, enter her mind, she missed the days when she would simply be chained to the wall, and left to sleep on an old, dirty mattress.
To her modified mind, those were the good old days.
Now, her nights were spent strapped into the milking machine, her tits, after multiple hormone injections, stimulations, and training, had begun to produce milk.
Each night, Master would strap her into the machine, watching her silent and broken acceptance even as she displayed the fear of the pain that was about to come as she was, unforgivingly, milked by the machines. He smiled often when he saw that there was no longer a look of humiliation on her face when he did this. She was so broken at this point, it was impossible to muster the self-worth that was required in order to feel humiliation.
Humiliation was felt by persons, she was an animal, a slave, and for her, whatever was done to her was exactly what she deserved.
Which was why she would so willingly open her mouth to accept the ring gag. He liked to use her wet mouth to service his cock as she was painfully milked. The gag wasn’t necessary, of course, as she was long past the point of trying to bite. However he used it because it was a reminder that he was taking what he wanted, she was never in a place to give anything, because she was nothing, and had, nothing.
A reality she had embraced completely because, as with the rest of her situation, he Master left her no other possible alternative.
She was now producing more than a liter of milk a night. That production came at the cost of very sore nipples that she had to deal with the next day. More than once, her Master had sadistically taken advantage of that and brutally tortured her nipples, usually with electricity, as a means of furthering her complete and utter subjugation.
Her Master thought on all of this, as he sat in the buggy with a proud smile on his face, watching the gorgeous, churning ass before him. He reveled in the control he had, and watched, amused, as the shit fell out of her body, through the hollow butt plug she was forced to wear. She didn’t even register it anymore. She was an animal, and of course, an animal shit where it was.
He had, more than once, admired how obediently she would now stand, her tail plug already installed, only the most basic bindings to hold her, as she waited for her bit, bridle, and other pony fittings. It was these moments, when she would unresistingly accept her tack, where she truly displayed how broken she had become.
He did notice she still shifted, uncomfortably, when the flies would crawl around, and even into her, using the opening of the hollow butt plug to access the soft sensitive flesh inside. But the shifting was all she did, just as one would expect from a horse, but even this discomfort was accepted with the complete obedience, total silence, and utter submission of the true slave that she had become; that he had created.
He regretted the fact that it would be time to sell her very soon. He had enjoyed her thoroughly. She had been one of the most responsive, and difficult slaves he had ever trained while at the same time being one of the most enjoyable.
Her early, temporary surrenders followed by a pathetic attempt to muster some form of resistance had been a delight that he had not experienced in years.
However, business was business, and her trifecta classification as both a trained pony, trained puppy, and a milk cow, would bring him mid six figures easily.
That thought brought another large smile to his face, and he “celebrated” by snapping the whip quickly twice across her ass, and then once over her shoulder.
That shot was rewarded with a severe squeal as of the tip of the whip met one of her tender nipples.
“Get a move on cunt,” he said in clear delight, “we have a long night ahead of us, and I’m going to need to put together your final sale information to find your new Master.”
The pony registered the words with seeming indifference, as she mindlessly followed the guidance of her reins.
However, deep inside her mind, past the training, past the degradation, pass the humiliation, and virtual, “reprogramming” that she had gone through. Past the whippings, the beatings, the electricity and the rapes, Chloe was still there. A small, insignificant, and, ultimately, flickering piece of who she was, still existed.
That part of her cried out in strangled, silent anguish and pain at the thought of her, of its final future.
That knowledge, of what was to come, and, more importantly, that there was no hope of altering her future or destiny in even the smallest way, served to all but snuff out this final ember and ensure the young, beautiful, intelligent, conniving woman, person, human being, and free person known as Chloe was, for ever more, nothing more than the chloeslut,
The absolute slave.