First Assignment – Dorota

The assignment:

Your first assignment is simple. We are going to sear your new name into your skull, make you earn it.

Feel free to imagine yourself on all fours, chained to the floor with my cock in your ass. Your name is Dorota now… I’ve told you that, but you haven’t really earned it yet. We are going to fix that. What I tell you to do is that you are going to tell me what each letter of your name stands for. You wrote a story like this before, so you know how this goes. You need to describe something degrading and humiliating and/or painful that relates to that letter that deserves to happen to you. If its degrading enough, I will permanently mark that letter on your back – burn it there with cigarettes, cut it into your skin, tattoos it, whatever you like… and when we’re done, I’ll do it to you. If its not degrading enough, however, I will do it to you… and then you will have to pick another for that letter. So you had best be creatively cruel to yourself. O will probably be especially hard for you, since you need to one-up your previous suggestion

Your assignment is to tell me the 6 things you come up with. The six degrading acts that cement your new position in life as my fucktoy. I assume you will be able to do this in between 500-1000 words, and I expect it in my inbox before you go to sleep on Sunday the 12th.

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Completed assignment:

D I’ve learned Drinking anything you made me. Cum, mostly, but piss as well – especially those days when you decided I still thought of myself a human being not a pathetic fucktoy and disgusting painslut. I was terrible at it at first, hating the taste, degraded by the very thought, still thinking I can refuse. In your wisdom you decided that one lash to my pussy or tits for every drop spilled. Quickly I began begging you to let my wrap my lips around your cock, tightly, so that no single drop of either your piss or cum is wasted and all of it is savoured by me before finding it’s way to my stomach.

O is related to the above as I became an Oral slut. Did you know that I had precious little experience in oral sex? Fortunately for this dumb slut, you were patient enough to teach me all the ins and outs of it. By patient of course I don’t mean that you weren’t punishing me – it meant that you were kind enough not to snuff this slut for all the poor job she was doing. Sure you hurt me a lot – whipping was mostly for not swallowing cum or piss, but for bad technique, not looking into your eyes, not sounding enthusiastic enough, not deepthroating you so hard that I pass out, gagging when you facefucked me or worst of all letting your feel my teeth you had other punishments. Plies, cigarettes, bees, cooking stove, nails, tazer to my pussy… so many ways to teach a whore suck, lick, slurp just the way you like it.

R is for Reveal, after you have forced me to reveal all the details and personal information about my friends, co-workers and family. Information you demanded, telling me how you will abuse and rape them. I didn’t want to give it… but after so many day (or were it mere hours?) or rape and torture I gave them almost gladly, indeed begging you to hurt them, not me. And you only laughed, leaving me with the knowledge that not only I was willing to sell out everyone to save myself… but that I didn’t even get anything out of it, except degradation and more abuse for being a selfish slut.

O is for Orgasm Denial. It was never one of my fetishes and you knew it. Which is probably why you liked doing it so much to me. Teasing me while reading me the best parts of your stories, touching my pussy until I was wet whether I wanted it or not… and the pulling the ring going through my clit, making my body jump in agony, me scream pathetically, no signs of my arousal left in me.

T is for Torture, for the various forms of torture you used on me. Physical, of course – whipping, lashing, beating, burning, tazing, electrocuting, drowning, choking, suffocating, stuffing stuff up my holes… and the more psychological ones – being trapped in a room with a smarm of bees, being fucked on a balcony, inches from a long, long, long fall… at first the tortures were to teach me my place, teach me to be obedient… but the harshest of all lessons was that being a good slut doesn’t save me from pain as you just kept hurting me for fun.

A is for the constant Agony I’m in. The agony of being viciously raped. The agony of being tortured for your pleasure or just used as a punching back when you’re not in the mood. The agony for being blamed and hurt for everything – from not riding your dick enthusiastically enough to you being stuck in the traffic. The agony of trying to guess how to best guess your wishes and serve you, all with the knowledge I’ll fail and get punished nevertheless. And of course the agony of knowing that this is my life from now on and that if you ever get rid of me, it won’t be to any kinder fate.

I like them all… but what kind of cruel master would I be to let you get away with Torture and Agony? Rest assured, whore, you will spend the rest of your life in agony… regardless of the letter. Pick another A for me, that’s a good little slut…

A is for… Ambition. Not something you associate with a whore, right? Ambition is for people who have plans, dreams… future. But a whore should have the ambition to be the best whore she can for her master. She should want to learn how to please him, how to guess his mood, how to figure out newer ways to give her pleasure and receive pain. Because otherwise she gets punished. Ambition is also important when she is finally sold to a brothel. True, it is ambition of the type “if you don’t achieve this goal you’ll get whipped” but that quickly teaches a whore the values of self-improvement. So A is not for something I’ve earned but for my future – future of Ambitiously trying to be the best whore I can.

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The Reward:

“You see, the problem is… Alicja is a pretty name. I like it. It makes my cock hard when I hear it… but it’s not a good name for you. Not anymore.”

You were shuddering as I walked in a slow circle around you… possibly because of the fear, but or because I had drenched you hours ago and let all that water drip off, evaporating and chilling you even in the comfortable room. Most likely, though, you were shaking from the strain of holding yourself up. You’ve been doing it for the last twelve hours, after all. The nails driven into the floor between your fingers were excellent motivation… I had told you that if I found that you had moved an inch, I would have to treat you like a child instead of an adult. Right now, I was happy to trust you to keep your hands in place… if you lost that precious sliver of trust, I would have to move the nails back an inch or two.

I’d only needed to do that to you once to make my point, and that had been months ago.

“Alicja is a nice name. A pretty name. But it’s a human’s name. A bitchy, teasing cunt of a human, sure, but you have memories of actually being a person associated with that name. It’s confusing to a whore like you… I’m sure its a large part of why you keep doing dumb-fuck things like begging for mercy or disobeying – because you have trouble remembering that while Alicja might have been a young woman, you certainly are not.”

I ran a hand over your side and back as I circled, feeling the raised welts that covered you. I hadn’t whipped you for a few days – you were probably overdue to be strung up by the wrists and lashed for a few hours – but some of the scars you would carry for the rest of your life anyway. It made me smile to feel them. Some people might look at you and not see much. A few months in a basement and away from the sun had left you quite pale. You had lost weight because it turned out a diet of mostly cum and occasional table scraps wasn’t very good for you. You had dark circles under your eyes, and the dye had completely grown out of your hair which was more knots that loose hair these days.

When you’d been playing with me online, you hadn’t believed me when I had warned you… threatened you… that once I had you, the only way you’d be leaving was in small bags. You hadn’t believed me, then. I could see you did now.

Most people, when they looked at you, would see a mess. I didn’t. I saw a flawless doll. How could I see anything else? I had made you this way. When I look at you, I saw every lash, every bruise, every scar. I saw the crooked ring finger, never healed quite right when where I had needed to break it your first day. I saw the scar tissue on your right nipple where I had had so much fun giving you a piercing I had done it three more times, just for kicks. I saw the tooth I’d ripped out of the back of your mouth to teach your never to close your mouth to me… thankfully you’d learned that one before I’d needed to go any further. I still made your swallow it, though, because I’m a man of my word. When I looked at you, I didn’t see a woman. I saw a cumrag, and a perfect one, even better than tissue paper and nearly as valuable.

Now I just needed to help you see it, too.

I settled behind you, smiling as I saw the word written on your back in sharpie… D O R O T A. “Do you know what Alicja means, slut? It means ‘Noble One.’ I don’t think that sounds like you at all, do you?”

“No master,” you said. Your voice was quiet, but it peaked on the last syllable as I slapped your ass. It was unusually sensitive… I had spent an hour poking it with a pin over and over this morning just so it would be perfect for this evening.

“Dorota is much better. It means God’s Gift, which is only appropriate since I’m the only god you’ll ever know and I gave it to you…” I said with a smile as I dragged my cock up and your slit before pushing into you. You were rarely entirely dry anymore… your body had learned that lesson, too. It was good that I’d left enough scars on your cunt that there was no such thing as painless sex… otherwise, I might have needed to take additional action to make you more miserable.

I slammed into your hard, brutally, wanting to hurt you, to hear your scream. I got one, though it wasn’t a loud as it once had been. I gave your three strokes, your cunt so tight, so sweet, that I almost left it there. That was a perk of always fucking your so hard… bitches were supposed to be looser as you stretched them out, but since I kept you swelling up every day, yours was still as tight, or tighter, as the very first time I’d raped you. I only stayed in your cunt for a few seconds… it was the only lube you were going to get, the only lube you ever got.

“That’s what your name means to me,” I told you as my thumbs pulled apart your bruised asscheeks, showing me the swollen, tight ring of your asshole. “But what does it mean to you? Do you remember what I told you to do?”

“Yes, master!” you cried out as my prick pulled out of you.

My teeth ground together as I slid my cock from your gripping snatch, and rested it against your tiny asshole. Your reaction made me proud… this wasn’t the first time I’d fucked your ass, not even the hundredth time, but if your pussy was just as tight as it had been when I started, your ass was far tighter. You had learned your place by now – you lifted up from the ground with your knees, squeezing your asscheeks together, your thighs struggling to close as they clenched around my legs. You knew by now to make yourself as tight as you could for it… and that if I doubted you were doing as good of a job as I could, I’d twist that ring on your clit until I was sure you were clenching as hard as possible. You were a good slut these days – you rarely made me do that to make you tighter. These days I only did it when I felt like it. I slapped your ass, making your jump and making your asscheek start bleeding again as I started to push into you. “Well, cunt… get started. What does your name mean?”

I held you there, practically in mid-air, by your hips, my cock, lubed by your cunt, pressing against your asshole, your body squeezing on me, as you started to speak. “D… I’ve learned Drinking anything you make me. Cum, mostly, but piss as well – especially those days when you decided I still thought of myself a human being not a pathetic fucktoy and disgusting painsluAAAAAAGH!” you cut off in a scream as I pressed forward harder, my fingers leaving more bruises around your hips as I felt your ass begin to give. “I… I… I was terrible at it at first, hating the taste, degraded by the very thought, still thinking I can refuse. In your wisdom, you decided to give me one lash to my pussy or tits for every drop spilled. Quickly I began begging you to let me wrap my lips around your cock, tightly, so that no single drop of either your piss or cum is wasted and all of it is savored by me before finding its way to my stomach.”

I pushed down on your back with one hand, forcing your chest against the concrete floor. The rings in your nipples made a screaming around as I crushed your tits against the floor. “Good enough,” I announced. Then I took the soldering iron that had been heating up to my side, and I pushed it against your back. You screamed so loudly as I traced the D on your back that I was sure the neighbors heard, even from all the way down here. You reached up one hand, reaching for your back, so I also pushed the iron against it, making you scream again. “Put. Your fucking. Hand. Back,” I hissed as you screamed again.

You flinched and hurried to obey, slapping your hand down so hard that you cut some of the skin between your fingers on one of the nails. “That was your one chance,” I growled. “Move your fucking hands again, and I’ll keep them nailed to the floor for a week and buy every dog in the pound and lock them down here with you. Do you understand me?”

“Yes!” you screamed, weeping, your back instinctively trying to writhe away from the hot iron in my hand.

“Good,” I hissed, and went over the D again just for good measure. Then it put down the iron and lined my cock back up with your ass. “Continue.” I waited for you to begin clenching again, then continued to push.

“O… is related to the above,” you said, whimpering. “I became an Oral slut. Did you know that I had precious little experience in oral sex? Fortunately for this dumb slut, you were patient enough to teach me all the ins and outs of it. By patient, of course, I don’t mean that you weren’t punishing me – I meant that you were kind enough not to snuff this slut for all the poor jobs she was doing. Sure you hurt me a lot – whipping was mostly for not swallowing cum or piss, but for bad technique, not looking into your eyes, not sounding enthusiastic enough, not deepthroating you so hard that I pass out, gagging when you facefucked me or worst of all letting your feel my teeth you had other punishments. Pliers, cigarettes, bees, cooking stove, nails, tazer to my pussy… so many ways to teach a whore to suck, lick, slurp just the way you like it.”

I smiled. “I had almost forgotten that you didn’t know how to suck a cock,” I admitted as I gave one last shove, a scream escaping your lips as my cock broke through into your ass, making me shiver in sensation. I smiled. Tight, so tight it hurt… perfect. I leaned forward and carved the O into your back with the hot steel, making you scream – but not, I noticed, clench any tighter. You were already squeezing as hard as you could. What a good girl you could be, once properly motivated. That was why you deserved your own name.

When I finished, you were panting, and my cock was so hard it was agonizing. D O stood on out of her back, burned black as the night with crimson, angry rings of pain around them. “What’s next?” I asked as I grabbed your hips, holding the iron in my hand and letting the heat get uncomfortably close to you as I pushed further and further into your ass.

Maybe letting you talk was a distraction from the pain of your rape and burning because you certainly threw yourself into the next one. “R… is for Revealing, master,” she whined. “Like how you forced me to reveal all the details and personal information about my friends, co-workers, and family. Information you demanded, telling me how you will abuse and rape them. I didn’t want to give it… but after so many days of rape and torture, I gave them up almost gladly.” She sobbed. “I actually begged you to hurt them, not me. And you only laughed, leaving me with the knowledge that not only I was willing to sell out everyone to save myself… but that I didn’t even get anything out of it, except degradation and more abuse for being a selfish slut.”

I laughed. “It wasn’t days, slut. You barely lasted two hours,” I told you as I leaned forward to burn the R into your back… and as I did, I pressed further into your clenching hole. Two screams joined into one, and your fingernails scraped at the concrete as I sank the last inch of my cock into your squeezing, writhing, fucking ass at the same time that I gave you your third letter.

When I was finished, your forehead pressed against the ground, your howl of anguish broken down into sobs of defeat and pain. I relished the way they made your body shake for a second. Then I began to drag my cock out, loving the way your body tensed in agony and anticipation. “Next?” I asked.

“O is…” you whispered through your gasps, your voice ragged from screaming already. “O is… O… O is for Orgasm DeniaAAAGH.” You screamed as I drove myself back in in a single thrust. “You… knew all my fantasies, all my fetishes long before you grabbed me. It was never one of them, and… and you knew it, master,” you sobbed. “That’s probably why you liked doing it so much to me. Teasing me while reading me the best parts of your stories, touching my pussy until I was wet whether I wanted it or not… and the pulling the ring going through my clit, making my body jump in agony, making me scream pathetically until there was no sign of arousal left in me.”

“It’s hard work,” I admitted as he slammed my cock in and out of her impossibly tight ass as hard as I could. It was hard to think about anything but fucking and slamming and hurting your tight ass. Your ass, covered with tiny pinholes, was flame red as my hips crashed against it. “Keeping a greedy whore like you in line. But we do the best we can, don’t we?” I burned the O into her back. Her scream was disappointing, so I did it again until it was more to my liking. “I hope you aren’t getting tired already,” I warned her. “There’s still a lot more to go…”

“N-no master!” you screamed, tightening your ass as much as you could as I slammed it brutally, remorselessly, loving every second of your pain. “T is for Torture!” you yelled out. “For all the various forms of torture you used on me. Physical, of course – whipping, lashing, beating, burning, tazing, electrocuting, drowning, choking, suffocating, stuffing stuff up my holes… and the more psychological ones – being trapped in a room with a swarm of bees, being fucked on a balcony, inches from a long, long, long fall…” She drifted off for a second as a particularly vicious thrust cracked her head against the ground, and when she continued, it was in a bit of daze. “At first the tortures were to teach me my place, teach me to be obedient… but the harshest of all lessons was that being a good slut doesn’t save me from pain as you just kept hurting me for fun.”

Just for fun, I grabbed your head and banged it against the ground one more time. I didn’t do it too hard… I wasn’t done with you… but I’m sure it felt like I was trying to crack your skull. “You’re right about that,” I said, relishing your terror, your humiliation, your defeat in the way you sobbed and bled. Then I took the iron and burned the T into place. “One more,” I said as I squeezed your bleeding asscheeks in both hands, using them to ram into you as hard as I could.

I don’t know how long I fucked you before you got enough of your wits together to remember your last letter. I wasn’t paying much attention to such unimportant things – I was too consumed with your tight body, the way it quivered and writhed beneath me, the soft, lovely sounds of pain coming from your bruised lips. At last, however, you spoke again. “A…” you moaned. “It’s for the constant Agony I’m in. The agony of being viciously raped. The agony of being tortured for your pleasure or just used as a punching bag when you’re not in the mood.” I was in a haze of lust and pleasure, my whole mind focused on my cock, on those two beaten mounds of flesh which was your ass, your words drawing me on. “The agony for being blamed and hurt for everything – from not riding your dick enthusiastically enough to you being stuck in the traffic. The agony of trying to guess how to best guess your wishes and serve you, all with the knowledge I’ll fail and get punished nevertheless. And of course the agony of knowing that this is my life from now on and that if you ever get rid of me, it won’t be to any kinder fate.”

I smiled. “No,” I said. “I don’t think so.”

I relished the way you froze, the horror on your bruised face as you tried to look back at me, your wide eyes. That look said that I couldn’t refuse one, I couldn’t… it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t…

I slapped you. “I said, no,” I repeated. “You’re repeating yourself now. You already said torture. It’s too close. What else defines you?” I smirked as the look of horror grew on her face. I have given her time to think of these, to come up with things I would like. If she failed… if I didn’t like them… the consequences would be grisly. “You have until I cum, whore,” I said as I started pounded her harder and faster, raping her as hard as I could. “Better think fast.”

I took, and I took, and I took, and I felt my cum begin to rise. I had already cum in you a few times today, and my balls my protest but you were going to get at least a half dozen more before I put you away wet for the night. For a few minutes, I thought you had given up, and I had started coming up with ideas for your punishment when you started whispering again. “A is for… Ambition.”

I actually laughed. “Ambition?” I mocked. You? This I need to hear.” I groaned as I felt my cock stiffening. “And quickly…” I warned.

“It’s not something you associate with a whore, right?” you admitted, sobbing. “Ambition is for people who have plans, dreams… future. But a whore should have the ambition to be the best whore she can for her master. She should want to learn how to please him, how to guess his mood, how to figure out newer ways to give her pleasure and receive pain. Because otherwise she gets punished. Ambition is also important when she is finally sold to a brothel. True, it is ambition of the type “if you don’t achieve this goal you’ll get whipped.” but that quickly teaches a whore the values of self-improvement. So A is not for something I’ve earned but for my future – future of Ambitiously trying to be the best whore I can.”

I groaning in pleasure. It felt so good as I rocked in your ass until my cock jerked, every muscle in my whole fucking body jerking with it as I came deep inside your ass. My cock throbbed again and again as I spewed my seed deep into your bowels, taking you like a bitch, like the gorgeous little cumrag you were.

You waited there beneath me on the floor, sobbing and breathing hard with an ass full of cum, waiting to see if I’d accepted your letter. If you were going to escape punishment… extra punishment… this time. I loved that fearful waiting almost as much as I loved the inside of your ass. “That will do,” I admitted at last, burning the A into your back, and I swear your tears this time seemed like gratitude.

My cock felt obscenely sensitive in your ass I pulled out, taking a mess of blood and cum and shit and with me as I stood up, holding my cock in my hand as I pissed over your new name. I sighed with pleasure as I let it all out, drenching your back and dripping down your tits, her shoulders, and your arms. Then walked around to the other side.

You had already begun pushing yourself up, keeping your fingers between the nails… what a good little cumrag. I didn’t need to say a word… you started sucking your mess of my cock without a word, without a single second of complaint even though I knew you hated it, even though I knew you hated yourself. “Do you know what happens next Dorota?” I asked her as you finished up, licking at my balls and cleaning yourself off of them.

You looked up at me, just like I liked, with tears in your eyes just like I liked. “Now you’re going to do all of it to me,” you whispered.

I smiled. “Damn right.”