The Breaking of Tracy part 4

The Breaking of Tracy
part 4
Tracy’s Rape


It’s not enough that I rape Tracy. I could do that at anytime. She has to do something of her own volition that goes against her every moral fibre. Only after she makes the one compromise will she start to compromise her self respect, her identity and, eventually, her humanity. So when Tracy eyes the scene before her, I can tell her horror is true and unexpected. She has no idea what’s to come. She thinks she does, but she doesn’t.

The Post, her beautifully scarred flesh straining with the effort, carries the Hole by it’s leather harness. Each step is a struggle, as the Post is a petite thing. Dutifully she sets the Hole down on the stone table. I watch Tracy. Her nose wrinkles a bit as she stares in shock. The Post’s earlier orgasm has left her smelling of sex. Subconsciously, Tracy will recognize that. It will help reinforce the mentality that torture and pain equal sex that she must learn.

In front of my chained up Rapewhore Tracy, on the stone table, is my ultimate punishment for disobedience. The Hole, as it is now known, was a beautiful girl once. Now, she’s a thing. Her legs have been amputated flush to her abdomen. Her arms, likewise. A leather harness snakes around her body as a series of black leather straps and clasps, forming a spiderweb of sadism. It clothes her little, but looks kinky. Not only does the sight arouse me, but a small leather strap acts as a handle. I allow the Hole no face. A thick, though form fitting, leather mask covers her face, save for her eyes and mouth, though a thick ball gag rests tightly between her teeth. Around her neck, a padlocked collar keeps the mask on. I eye the silver lock in satisfaction. Though it is small, and I doubt Tracy can see, I know it has no key slot. It’s been designed to never be removed. The Hole, my beautiful stump of a slave, is just that, a hole. A hole to fuck, a hole to rape. No one has touched her since the surgery, the Hole having just recovered. I plan on letting the guards or guests fuck her. When she’s not in use, I’ll let the dogs fuck her as they please. For her disobedience, I give her the greatest hell I could think of. An unending one, without hope or reprisal.

But first, before the Hole can be fully immersed in her own private hell, I have need of her with Tracy. Looking to Tracy, I see tears seeping out of the sides of her eyes. This is disgusting to her. Even after all she’s been through so far, which to be honest, isn’t much, she sees this as a violation of human decency. My cock twitches at the thought.

“You see,” I say affectionately. “No reason to kill. That would have been a respite. Instead she’s punished. Rapewhore? Pay attention” Tracy peels her eyes away from the Hole. Her horror tattoo her face. Even so, when I speak, she must pay attention.

“Women are nothing but holes. But I am generous. If sluts like the Post can learn my rules, than I allow them to keep their bodies. If they don’t learn, they are not rewarded. Do you understand?”

Tracy stares at me. Perhaps she still had a hope of freedom before hand. Her lip trembles. I imagine she’d have carried the hope of freedom as her excuse for doing anything I asked. Perhaps she assumed that I’d kill her if she disobeyed. The truth is worse, and she starts to cry in earnest. The sight of her chained up and crying, it’s too much. I snatch up a cat o’ nine tails and whip the front of the Post full force. Red streaks are left behind the leather straps’ path, marking her tits and stomach. The Post shrieks in surprised pain before regaining her composure. Her mind catches up to her body, and she sends me a look of desire.

“Thank you daddy.” If I hadn’t whipped the Post, I’d have raped Tracy, that’s how fucking sexy the sight of her crying is.