The Breaking of Tracy part 3 by Mr.Hurt..,

A wealthy slave trainer begins to put his new toy through her paces, with the goal of breaking her spirit.

Part 3 – Hot and Cold

Her mouth runs the length of my shaft, up and down. Eyes staring up at me, unblinking, the pace of the blowjob quickens. I’m hardly paying attention. I’m starting to believe that I’ve made a misstep with Tracy. She understands now that she must bow to my will, but it’s hollow. Which is normal. But I did too much too fast.

The cow should not have been slaughtered until the next day. Tracy needed time to come to terms with her situation, let her surroundings sink in before the shock of the cow being raped to death. Spilled milk and all, as they say. No sense worrying about it now. Today’s schedule needs to be altered a bit. I stare off into the empty space of the wall opposite me, my arm draped around the shoulders of The Post. She sits at my side, sitting on her knees with a back as straight as a cat. As I absently trace the scars across her chest and breasts, she keeps her hands behind her back, resting between her feet. My orgasm is close, but I can already tell it will be hollow and unsatisfying.

‘How to make Tracy the perfect slave?’ I ponder. ‘The sacrificial cow was a good shock to her system. But I did it too early. Her hope and will probably haven’t eroded enough. I’ll bet she’s steeling herself for whatever comes next.’ I imagine her promising herself a silent war of wills. A war of attrition. No matter how long, no matter what she is forced to do, she will never break. I don’t know this for certain, of course. But I suspect, and that’s enough.

I grunt in disappointing release and a small spurt of cum shoots into the back of her throat. With the job done, her mouth lowers the length of my shat, taking it all in.

“Is there anything else, daddy?” The maid asks.

“Wipe me off, then send that to the kennels.” I answer, resting my chin in my hand. My eyes continue to look off into nothing as I reexamine my situation.

The maid lifts the disembodied cows head from my flaccid dick and sets it aside. I sigh in contemplation while the maid wipes my shaft down with a damp cloth, cleaning me. My eyes follow her as she gets up, carrying the head in front of her, walking her awkward steps out the door. It’s good that she’s gone. I’m bound to lash out at something if I can’t come up with a solution. How do you break a woman who’s accepted she to anything done to her. Curious.

A flash of anger catches me. With my arm draped back behind The Post’s shoulders, I reach up and grab her jaw, violently pulling it towards me. The side of her face crashes into the wooden arm rest, but she keeps whatever composure she can. The Post’s training went perfectly. The positive reinforcement molded her into a soulless painslut. I can’t do that to Tracy, not at this point anyway. All she understands is that I’m a monster. She saw me kill the c…that’s it. She knows what I’m capable of. I even told her if she ever disobeys, she’d receive worse. She’d heard the words, but after seeing something so horrific, you can’t believe there’s anything worse. I have to show her.

I smile spreads across my lips, and I ease my hold on The Post’s head. Instead, I gently stroke the side of her face, letting her know my rage has abated.

“I’ll be having breakfast soon. Go have one of the Whores get the Hole prepared.”

“Yes daddy.”

I let her stand up, and go to watch her leave. “Have Mistress Bitchcraft flog you pussy. You have half an hour to cum as much as you can.”

“Thank you daddy!” The Post replies, ecstatic. I give her so little pleasure now that she’s tame. This is a great boon. She might not understand why I’m doing this for her, but she’s genuinely grateful. Stupid thing. I need her to come in looking and smelling like she’s just been enjoying herself. Tracy needs to see her like that when she brings in the Hole. I pay little attention to the rest of my morning, eating and bathing with only half a mind on the task near at hand.

Fourty minutes pass before I reach the door to the novice room. Whore 1 is awaiting me, wearing the standard Whore fare of a latex body suit. I’ve always loved the dehumanizing qualities of a featureless latex mask. Her shapely, supine figure leaves nothing to the imagination while also stripping her of her identity. This one had been a day care worker once upon a time, if I’m not mistaken.

“The Hole is ready, daddy. I’ve dressed her in the harness you’ve designed and the mask you picked. She awaits next door with The Post.”

“Very good. I’ll not be needing anything further.”

“Yes daddy.” As she leaves, I take the opportunity to spy her hands, clasped behind her back. Yes, she had been the daycare worker, both pinkies were missing. I’d had to take a set of pliers to her after she’d finished her training. Trying to escape the first day upstairs was no laughing matter. A few dozen feet further up this hallway was his discipline room. It had been there that he’d had her hung by her neck with her arms tied outstretched from her sides, forcing her to stand on her toes. Using the pliers to crush the bone in her finger had been easy, but actually removing it had involved some considerable wrenching and twisting. All the while Mistress Bitchcraft and mercilessly whipped her naked from. It takes a moment, but I remember inserting the mangled finger up her own cunt, telling her to keep it there until I was done with the other one. I’d had no problem since with her, though I chose to keep her downstairs from that day on. Better safe than sorry. Let’s not make the same mistake with our beautiful new treasure.

I enter the novice room nude, as the day before. Still strung from the ceiling hangs Tracy, though a purple shade had settled throughout her limbs during the night. Hanging there all night had been it’s own torture. She’d be grateful to get down, even if it meant more abuse.

Her limp head groggily raises, looking towards the sound of the opening door.

“please…” She croaks.

I walk past her to the a basin against the wall. “Please what?”

She painfully clears her throat and tries again. “Please let me down. I can’t feel my legs. Daddy!” She hurriedly adds the last part, remembering her ordeal yesterday.

I run the tap for a moment, filling a plastic cup full of water.

“I think because you remembered yesterdays lesson, I can let you down. Already you’re learning that obedience has rewards, aren’t you?” I turn to her, waiting for an answer.

“Yes daddy.” Her tone does nothing but reinforce my conviction that I did too much too soon with her. I’ll rectify that momentarily.

I walk towards her, taking care to watch her face. She cautiously tracks my movement across the room, her jaw set. Reaching her, I take hold of the clasp attached to the leather strap wrapped around her abdomen. I thumb the release, letting her swing free from the wall. All her weight is now carried in her wrists. Her numb, bound, wrists. She let’s out a sharp hiss of pain. I can’t see her face, but I imagine it to be a grimace.Standing behind her proper, I reach up with both hands and thumb the release. In an instant, she crashes to the cement below, landing painfully on her side. For a moment, she makes no noise, save for the surprised intake of air. She’d been expecting a gentler descent.

“OWWWW-WWWW-WWW-WW-WWWWWW!” She begins to cry, like a toddler that has fallen after it’s first few steps. My foot shoots out, finding her neck. I press down onto her throat, cutting off her pathetic display in a choking fit. I press harder.

“Shut up. You’re not hurt, are you?” I emphasize the last two words, framing it as a redundant question. She tries to speak, only to realize she can’t. She hurriedly shakes her head. I lift my foot.

“No what?”

Tracy answers immediately. ” No, daddy!”

I let her lay there a full minute before I reach down and undo the leather straps restraining her arms and legs. As each comes of, she let’s out a whimper of gratitude as the blood begins to reach her limbs unhindered. I remove the spread bar from her knees, but go to attach it to her ankles, when she balks me. Like lightning, my hand finds her throat, and I shove her head hard against the ground. She stops struggling in an instant.

“I don’t like to play games. You will stop these useless displays of independence. Do you understand me?” Her face is going red by the time I finish my little speech, my nose nearly touching hers. She makes no attempt to try and talk this time, instead nodding immediately.

“Yes, what?” I demand, lessening my grip.

“Yes daddy!” I let her go, her head bouncing of the cement again. As stars dance in her eyes I cuff her ankles to the spread bar. Leaving her laying on the floor, I go back to the basin and fetch the cup of water. Returning, I offer the cup to her. Hesitantly she takes it from my hand, before eyeing it’s contents. A tentative sip is all it takes for her thirst to force the rest down. Sheepishly, she looks up at me, like a wounded doe.

“Can…can I have another?”

I reach my hand out for the cup, a friendly expression on my face. Handing it over, I can see a flicker of hope run across her face.

“No.” I toss the cup over my shoulder. It’s bounce echoes off the wall, disrupting our moment of silence. “Stand up.”

Her lower lip quivers for a moment. She thinks I’m mean, how cute. Wrestling her lip under control, she raises her hand, looking for help. I effortlessly kick her hand away.

“Get up, now!”

My tone lets her know I’m not asking. Wincing from her fall, she tenderly stands, the spread bar making it all the more awkward.

“Step two feet forward.” Again, my tone says more than my words. Looking down at her feet, Tracy takes the few awkward steps forward necessary to move the two feet. Satisfied, I walk over to the work bench against the wall, selecting two short lengths of chain. Turning back to Tracy, I take the moment to drink in the sight of her. Her petite pale body is a thing of beauty, made all the more beautiful with her bruised and beaten breasts. A tie dye tapestry of purple and blue spreads out along her tender tits, along with the occasional welt. Cold, frightened and starving, she holds herself in her own arms, shivering, looking down and away from me. It’s good that she still has shame, at this point anyway.