Nancy's Third Level 2 Assignment
As suggested by Aussiegirl , this is a rewrite of Chapter One of Lisa’s Reality from the POV of Steve. I shall also try to fix what I think is the major problem of the plot: the slipshod kidnapping that was sure to result in raid by the SWAT team.
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Steve sat in an overstuffed chair and looked up from the report he was reading to check on the unconscious girl tied to the bed across the otherwise bare room. Ropes on her wrists and ankles held the naked body spread out on its back on the bare mattress. A blindfold covered her eyes. The report, which he received when the girl was delivered a short time ago, identified her as Lisa, a 17-year old Caucasian high-school student, intelligent, athletic, and the only child of a suburban middle-class family.
“Not bad. I’ll have fun with this one,” he thought as he appraised the firm young breasts, shapely legs, wide hips and narrow waist. The neat triangle of pubic hair matched the long, auburn hair scattered about her head. Her tan lines revealed the shape of a rather skimpy bikini. He reviewed in his mind the steps he would take, as specified in the manual, to turn this innocent young girl into a passionate, submissive, sex slave. This was his fourth girl since joining the Association, and he was beginning to feel comfortable in the role of slave trainer.
The Association, which was the only name he knew, was well organized and meticulously secretive. He was hired as a trainer only after extensive tests and a thorough background check. For the initial week-long training course, he reported to a hotel room, where he learned he would go by bus, with two other new employees, to the training center. On the trip, during which shades would cover the bus windows, he was not to talk, but, instead, to make up a cover story that would disguise his true identify. During training, he would be known to all present only by his cover identity.
After a long, quiet journey in the darkened bus, Steve and the others arrived at the training center, which was a large white-clapboard farmhouse, with a weathered barn behind it. It was totally isolated, surrounded on all sides by corn fields. The first four days consisted of lectures covering the psychology and techniques of dominance along with practice in using on dummies a plethora of implements for control and torment. The final three days were engaged in practicing with supervision all that had been learned with three trained female slaves. Following the week of intensive training, Steve returned, in the darkened bus, to the hotel room, where he was given an address to which he was to report for work.
The address led him to the current isolated farmhouse and barn, similar to that of the training center, where he met the manager and his two fellow trainers. After a tour of the basement cells, the various rooms of the house, and the facilities of the barn, the manager emphasized that theirs was an isolated operation. They knew very little about the Association, so it was up to them to maintain their own security. Their story about a mysterious Association would sound pretty silly if they were caught holding kidnapped girls.
The manager explained that girls were delivered to them unconscious in a van with an unknown driver, and were picked up in the same way when their training was finished. He did not know how the kidnapping was accomplished, but he was confident it was a professional job. All the girls they received were abducted in other states. He said the Association seemed to be an international company with only a small U. S. operation. Work in the United States was more dangerous than in most other countries, but American girls brought a premium price in the international market, so it must be worth the risk. “Yes,” Steve thought, “but we are taking the risk, not the mysterious Association.”
Steve put down the report as Lisa began to stir. He sat beside her on the bed so he could watch her muscles ripple as she began to struggle against the ropes. He stroked her breast, teasing the unresponsive nipple with his fingernail. When she started to say something, he put his finger on her mouth, and said “Shhhh! Don’t talk.” He didn’t want to listen to the babbling of a half-conscious girl. As her squirming became more vigorous, she asked, “Where am I?” more to herself than anyone else.
“I told you not to speak!” he rebuked her harshly. “One more sound and I’ll have to gag you.” He had learned to establish a severe tone from the beginning, while they are still woozy. It makes the small tokens of kindness, that he will later use sparingly, more valuable rewards.
“Who are you? Where am I?” she screamed with panic in her voice.
He pinched her nose between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing hard. When she opened her mouth to scream, he shoved a red rubber ball into her mouth, pushing it behind her teeth. He lifted her head and buckled the strap tightly behind her head, pulling the ball deeper into her mouth. The strap pressed into her cheeks and pulled cruelly on the corners of her mouth. She was struggling to breathe through her nose.
“Calm down and breathe slowly. The gag won’t suffocate you. Just breathe through your nose,” his voice was commanding. “You brought this on yourself. I told you to be quiet.” He knew how stressful a ball gag could be, especially when buckled tightly, since he had had to wear one for a couple of hours during training. She had disobeyed his order to be quiet, and the gag was the beginning of obedience training. The punishment is swift, and suitable to the offence, but is disproportionately harsh. It would take repetition, but in time she would obey any order unquestionably.
His fingers teased the erogenous zones of her naked body with disappointing results. He could see that she was fully awake. Perhaps she was too panicked to respond, but she might also be virginal and erotically insensitive. He would find out later, but it didn’t really matter. The training program that lay ahead would turn her into a nymphomaniac, he was sure of that.
“You disobeyed my order to be quiet, and you were gagged,” he said. “That’s how it is here. If you disobey, you will be punished. If you fight me, you will be bound in ways you won’t enjoy. If you try to escape, you will fail, and you will be very sorry for trying. Do you understand? Nod your head.” His tone was firm and confident. Slowly she nodded, “Yes,” but he knew it would take repeated demonstrations to convince her it was true. He would be firm but fair, with firmness first and fairness as she earned it.
“Do you need to go to the bathroom?” he asked. She nodded emphatically, “Yes,” and he said, “Okay, but remember what I said about fighting me.” He untied her wrists and pulled her to a sitting position. “Hands behind back!” he ordered, and she slowly complied, not resisting as he tied her wrists together. He untied her ankles, and helped her unsteadily to her feet. When she was standing straight, he led the blindfolded and gagged girl by the arm to the bathroom and sat her down on the toilet. He continued holding her arm, but she did not pee. He smiled, thinking how embarrassed she must feel sitting on the toilet with an unknown man holding her arm. After a while the pee began to flow.
He removed her blindfold, mainly because he wanted to see her eyes. Her face was beautiful, even with the teaseled hair, and he felt a warm glow when looking into her blue/green, tear-filled eyes. “I like this girl,” he thought, then reprimanded himself for the caring feeling. He remembered his instructors’ admonition: Don’t develop tender feelings for a slave.
He led her to the shower, turned on the water, adjusted its temperature, and pushed her under the flowing water. Standing to one side, he scrubbed her with a long-handled brush, trying not to get too wet himself. She turned in response to his instructions, allowing him to brush her entire body. He pushed her with the brush so the water flowed through her hair, then he turned off the water.
He made her stand with legs apart while he dried her with a towel, and then he wrapped it around her dripping auburn hair. He sat on the toilet admiring her body.
“I know you must be wondering where you are and why you are here. So, I will let you ask me three questions. I may not be able to answer completely, but I will do the best I can,” he said with a touch of sympathy in his voice. “I can see that the gag is uncomfortable, and I will soon take it off. But first, I will let you stand there, so I can look at you, while you think of your questions. Nod your head when you are ready with the three questions.”
