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Chapter 14 - Erosion
Content Warning: Slavery, Non-con, FemSub, LezDom, Humiliation, Degradation, Forced Exhibition, Training, Identity Erosion, Sci-fi
I woke shivering when the barn door squealed open. My skin prickled against the cold floor with no blanket, no clothes, nothing to cover me from the eyes that would soon wander over every exposed inch. Before Mistress could start barking, many of us were already standing at Inspect. She didn’t have a bucket of cold water this morning and instead walked through inspecting each slave before ushering us out with snaps of her crop. The girls who woke and got into position last received the brunt of her abuse.
The deep bone-chilling cold bit through my bare skin until the burn of endless squats and crunches set my muscles on fire. Each humiliating pose spread me open, forcing fresh awareness of how exposed and vulnerable I was. My stomach burned and quaked, thighs trembling so violently I feared I’d collapse and earn the crop while Matron flowed through every movement with natural grace.
As we approached the third exhausting hour, Matron went into Kneel and announced, “And ease into Kneel. And relax for a moment.”
“Pay attention, my sweet girls,” Matron cooed. “Settle in… Backs straight, knees nice and wide for me… That’s it, good girls.”
“Breathe in slowly, darlings. A proper slave controls the most intimate part of herself. This is where your true value lies… Not just that pretty slit, but deep inside. Squeeze… Clench and hold for me.”
“Good girls, I can see some of you understanding. Draw those muscles in as if you are trying to pull something deep into your belly. Hold it… Hold… Feel how your body tightens around nothing. This is your first duty. To be ready… Warm… Gripping. This is for your owner. This is his.”
“Now release slowly… Then squeeze again. Harder this time. Milk him. Feel him filling you. Please him. This is not for your pleasure, sweet things. This is training. That cunt exists only to serve. Clench properly, and you’ll become a living sheath… A perfect, irresistible little tool for your owner.”
Trainer and Mistress walked along our two lines, Mistress heading straight for me. She stopped, then squatted down in front of me. Her hand went between my legs, and I felt her fingers press against me. Then she pushed inside while holding my gaze. I felt the stretch by the slow intrusion, and hated how my body yielded around her. A shuddering moan escaped before I could stop it.
From the front, Matron continued, “And squeeze… Hold it…”
Mistress snarled, “I can barely feel a thing, Pale Sheath. Pathetic. Squeeze!”
I clenched harder as the women around me cast sidelong glances. Mistress sighed and forced herself deeper inside me. In the Federation, a woman could simply go to a clinic and have a procedure done to tighten everything up. Here, women were expected to participate willingly in every debasement. I squeezed.
She moved her fingers, forcing a shuddering moan out. “Just damp? Not even wet for me, Pale Sheath? Don’t you appreciate your Mistress checking how well you’re performing?”
A thousand snide comments ran through my mind, “My body is learning, Mistress. Thank you for teaching me.”
She thrust deeper with a cruel smile, working her fingers until I clenched helplessly around her. “A clever girl might lie and say that,” she sneered, “But look at you… Positively dripping down my fingers now. You just needed a little encouragement,” she said with a rough stab. “Seems those holes are finally learning they belong to me now.” She left me gasping and feeling hollow.
The trainers ate what looked like pancakes with a cream cheese spread while we attended. When they asked for a volunteer to clean, all eight of us threw ourselves at their feet, begging to be the one. Including me. I wasn’t chosen, of course, but I wasn’t doing anything to stand out.
Breakfast was fruit again. When I got one, I damn near cried. I was so hungry I devoured it, then licked until the pit was shiny.
The next three hours were poses. Inspect. Kneel. Table. Over and over. New variations on standing bent, lying back, holding ourselves open in so many ways. When I thought about anyone seeing me bent at the waist completely naked, reaching back to hold myself open while Trainer spread my legs and chastised me for not being wet and inviting enough, shame twisted so sharply in me that I thought I might be sick.
Lunch break finally came, and I was assigned to rake the yard with a couple of trainees. A few others cleaned the pen, and others fetched lunch. The trainers ate cold cuts, cheeses, and once chores were done, we were served herbed salads. I devoured mine and was still deeply hungry afterward. When a volunteer was called, I threw myself down on the ground, hoping by some miracle I’d be picked.
We were given a few minutes to attend bathroom needs, and I joined the crowd as we rushed past Mistress, only to feel someone grab me. Groped would have been the polite way of describing it, they reached up under me, grabbing me hard and making me cry out. I spun with a startled cry, the rough hand still hot between my thighs, and found Lira leering down at me.
“Hey!” I yelled with a shove.
The bigger woman was surprised, but we both froze in our tracks when Mistress spun around barking, “What goes on here?”
Lira snapped to Inspect, and I followed suit. Lira wasn’t saying anything, so I spoke up, “She grabbed me, Mistress…”
“And?” Mistress said, stepping into my face.
I had expected Mistress to relish the opportunity to enforce order with her crop. Her nonchalance made me stop in my tracks. “I belong to my Master, not to her. She used me without his permission.”
Mistress looked me right in the eyes, her nose nearly touching mine. She replied slowly and clearly, “Your owner loaned you to this house. That means your ass is mine to use as I please.”
Nausea twisted hard in my insides as the full horror came over me. My body was no longer my own. Not even from another slave. Anyone could use what had once been mine.
“Your big sister has done an adequate job performing her duties. Unlike you. So superior, outlander… But you can't even hold your bladder. You are the lowest of the slaves. And if Lira has the bad taste to want to touch you… Why would I care?”
My lip quivered, hot tears of rage and shame pricking at my eyes while I fought to keep my voice controlled. The woman who engineered my greatest humiliation was now going to use that to give away any remaining dignity.
“Is it true, Lira?” Mistress asked the other woman. “Did you want to touch this filthy creature?”
Lira puffed up. “Yes, Mistress. I enjoy showing her her place.”
“Well then… Go ahead. You’ve earned it.”
Lira’s grin made my stomach lurch. I remained rigid in position, disgusted and loathing that she’d been given permission to put her hands on my naked body. And had not been chastised for sticking her hand up between my thighs.
Lira moved behind me, her larger body crowding close, the heat of her skin and soft curves pressing into my back as her hands cupped my breasts and squeezed hard. I hated how the contact made my guts tighten.
“Her nipples,” Mistress sneered.
“Eh?” Lira said, her breath hot on my bent arm.
“Her nipples, Lira. Pinch them hard. The little slut loves it.” Mistress stared past me at Lira, who complied. Her finger and thumb tips pinched, then pulled painfully at my nipples. I ground my teeth, trying not to cry out. Lira eased the crushing grip on my nipples but continued mauling my tits. Her rough treatment wasn’t because she wanted to touch or feel me. This was her showing me who was in charge.
“Come see me tonight,” Lira hissed at me from behind, “Or you’ll get more of this every single day.”
I said nothing and fought back the humiliating tears that threatened.
“Alright,” Mistress finally announced. “That’s enough. Relieve yourselves before afternoon class.” She turned and walked after the other girls, who were all busy attending to their needs in preparation for a long afternoon.
Lira ran her nose along my bicep, inhaling as she did. “Tonight, Sheath.” Then she released me and walked away. I watched her naked hips sway as she walked off. It was the strut of a conqueror. A sick whisper in my mind asked whether I should resist her or crawl to her tonight, just for an evening without freezing. The thought alone made my cheeks burn with self-loathing.
The afternoon lesson continued the earlier first-day lecture on the horrid slave philosophy from the previous day. It was irritating hearing endlessly how frivolous women were, and how in the natural order of things, women should defer to men in all things. The mantras continued as well.
“I am a sheath” was the most humiliating, as if it had been chosen for constant utterance just to humiliate me. But there were plenty of others. “My pleasure belongs to my owner” was also infuriating, reinforcing that I had no right to my own body. “My holes are not mine… My only purpose is to please… Obedience is peace…” The words poured from my lips like white noise, each repetition scraping another layer from whatever was left of Selene. As if the words no longer had any meaning, they just poured out of my mouth without thought to get through the endless humiliations.
Dinner was the same as the first day. Chores and serving the trainers while we waited hungrily for our own meals. I was chosen to cook and got a crash course in grilling and local herbs. Mistress was there to mock my efforts and call me a liar when I explained I’d never cooked before. “What kind of worthless cunt doesn’t even know how to cook? Pathetic.”
After dinner, there was a round of groveling to see who would clean the table. I was not chosen, of course, but having thrown myself into the dirt multiple times now, I was getting used to the idea of begging with my whole body to take on more work.
Once the trainers were done eating, we were each given a bowl of thin vegetable stew. I had to force myself not to lick it. I abstained since the other women weren’t, but I was ready and willing to forgo any sense of dignity and lick the bowl clean of any dregs.
The evening started with a few moments to relieve ourselves, then we formed in front of the fountain where Matron was waiting for us. She smiled warmly as her gaze swept across us. “Girls… You’ve all done so well today. For your studies and beautiful obedience, every one of you has earned a cup of wine before the nightly lesson.”
She paused as shy little Nyssa moved down the line, handing out wooden cups from a serving tray. Her gaze stopped on me.
“Special praise tonight goes to Vessi the Pale Sheath. Yesterday she had an accident that cost you all your dinner. That was so very disappointing. But today… Today she showed real improvement. You are the most improved girl. Because of that, you’ve earned a double helping of wine.”
Nyssa stepped up to me and handed me a simple cup nearly overflowing with dark red fluid. I’d had the slave wine before and knew this wasn’t really a reward. Matron wanted me burning inside, the double helping of aphrodisiacs would have me squirming through the last lesson. It was possible Matron was hoping I’d be so distracted and tense that I’d cause another group punishment to further cement my position as the very worst slave of the class.
Matron stepped off her little stage and walked directly to me. “Drink it all, darling. You’ve earned this with your obedience, and a good slave accepts every gift bestowed upon her. She reached out to help push the cup to my lips. “This is how you become perfect.”
I took a drink as she watched. It was bitter and tart, not entirely terrible, but I knew it would affect me. The last time I’d had this wine, I’d orgasmed when my partner took me in front of a crowd of barbarians. The shame of the memory heated my belly almost as much as the wine.
She continued watching me until I’d drained the whole thing. I could feel a trail of fire from the back of my throat, down into my belly, and seeping into my thighs. In a few minutes, I knew I’d be desperate to clench my thighs closed, rather than spread lewdly open as they were now.
With a smile, she returned back to the platform. “Sit for a moment, my pets. The wine will do its work. Feel it spreading through you. Remember this heat… When you leave here, this will always remain.”
“Close your eyes… Feel how your belly warms… And repeat after me… My only purpose is to please… I exist to serve… I am a tool. A living toy. A perfect slave.”
We did mantras for about fifteen minutes, and they got worse and more degrading with every minute. By the end, Matron, with her beaming smile, was asking us to repeat things like, “This cunt is not mine… These holes belong to my owner… A good slave is ready, warm, and eager.”
Heat rippled through my belly and slicked my thighs as the degrading phrases left my mouth again and again. My fingers gripped my spread legs while I fought the desperate urge to rock against my own hand.
“And now,” Matron suddenly announced, “Tonight’s lesson… How to touch your owner to enflame his every desire.”
I was grateful not to be speaking mantras about how my body parts were no longer mine, but a flood of dread pulsed through me hearing we’d be learning how to touch our owners. I immediately thought of having to practice on straw-filled dummies, and trying to maintain a straight face while looking at it seductively.
“Vessi, my dear. Please come here.” Matron called to me.
I rose, happy to be able to clench my thighs in the process, and was horrified at how hot and damp they were. I walked up in front of everyone to Matron, who turned me around to face the other kneeling trainees.
Matron put an arm around my bare shoulder, her silks whispering across my skin. “Tell us, sweet girl, what do you think is needed to be seductive when your owner is touching you?”
What is needed? The question was absurd. I’d never put on a performance for any of the men who had been romantically interested. If we were both in the mood, they would make advances, and I would either allow them or stop them in the process. Why would I perform for them? We were supposed to be equals, my value was never in how pretty I moaned.
“I don’t know, Matron. I never put on a show. If a man wanted me, he would…” I slowed down, trying to think of a way to phrase my thoughts without seeming totally alien to these women. “He would pursue me. Seduction on my behalf wasn’t necessary.”
Matron hugged me with one arm around my shoulders, “Oh, poor girl. This is exactly why you need this lesson. A good slave offers herself so eagerly that he never has to wonder. When he touches you, he wants to feel that you are desperate for his hands. He wants to see your body trembling with need for him. He wants your eyes to be soft and adoring. Your lips wet and parted as if you are imagining him using them.”
“He wants to hear soft grateful little sounds. Not silence. He wants to feel you arch into his touch, press your breast into his palm, roll your hips like a beast in heat. Seduction is not a ‘show.’ It’s the complete surrender of your pride. It’s proving with breath that your only desire is to please him. As every woman should feel for their owner.”
She waved her hand in a gesture of invitation, “Lira, come up here. I’d like you to touch Vessi as you would your master. Touch her and imagine that you are making yourself alluring to your owner, that you are enticing him to use you for his pleasure.”
I wanted to shrink back as Lira staggered up to her feet. This brute was going to touch me and attempt to seduce me with her hands. I wanted to be ill, to kick her in the face, to be anywhere but right here with her hands on me.
“And you, sweet Vessi,” Matron held me by each shoulder, turning me to look directly at her. “When she touches you, show us how a proper slave responds. Imagine she is your owner, the one you are so sweet on even though you refuse to make him feel like a man.”
Lira smirked as she stepped up to me. We faced each other so the class and Matron on the other side could see both of us in profile. When she drew close, I looked up into her arrogant face and wanted to jerk away. One of her hands went to my breast, gripping it tightly in a crushing squeeze. Her other hand shot right between my thighs. She goosed me hard with her sadist grin boring down at me.
I yelped as flames flickered fiercely through my belly. Lira's fingers slid wetly through my thighs, and I could feel burning crimson heat flush across my face. My yelp turned into a prolonged moan, and my hips moved forward against my will. I didn’t know what to do with my hands or where to look except into her cruel eyes. Shame made me want to crawl into the dirt.
“No,” Matron said firmly. “No, Lira. That is how a brute touches a cheap tavern whore. Not how a valuable slave touches her owner.”
She turned to the rest of the girls, her voice still gentle but laced with authority. “Listen carefully, all of you. When you touch a man, you do not grab like a starving animal. You seduce. You worship. You make him feel like a god who owns the most perfect toy in the world.”
Matron guided Lira back and took her place, looking evenly into my eyes. “Like this… Gentle at first…”
She moved into me, her soft skin pressing warmly to mine with the lightest touch. I could feel the silks whispering between us, a slick elegance that made me come to life with unwanted heat. She turned to face the audience, one hand slipped behind me to trace along my spine, as her other glided up across my ribs and traced the curve of my breasts. Overwhelmed, a moan escaped my lips, her touch was smoldering, creating fires across my body.
“Let him feel your softness. Tease. Worship. Show him how grateful you are that he even allows you to touch him.” The hand behind me drifted down, tracing the shape of my ass, while the one in front slipped down my belly. My hips moved forward without conscious thought from me, and they ground against her. A double portion of wine, it was making me melt in her touch. Her fingers went to my landing strip, and I cooed as they combed through it. I pressed forward, wanting our chests to touch again. The wine. The wine was driving me mad.
Her hand slipped down to my slit, and she caressed me with gentle fingers. I wanted her to touch me, my clit so badly. I would have begged. The audience, the other trainers vanished, I was lost in her eyes, and the inferno her hands were stoking inside me.
Her other hand slid down between my thighs, fingers stroking lightly along my slit. Not forcing, but coaxing wetness, exploring with deliberate sensuality that made my hips twitch forward before I could stop them.
“Touch his cock like it is the most precious thing you will ever hold. Cup him gently, as if he were delicate. Make him feel desired. Craved. Whimper softly. Arch into his hand. Look at him with needy, adoring eyes. Do not take. Offer. Offer, all of you.”
Then she stepped back, leaving me cold and lonely and untouched. She turned back to Lira, “Do you understand now, Lira? This is how you make a man never want to let you go.”
“Yes, Matron,” Lira said, but her eyes looked less confident.
“Then, go ahead and try again.”
Lira hesitated then bowed her head, “I’m sorry, Matron, am I supposed to be touching her like I am the master, or as myself?”
Before Matron could answer, Mistress gave a sharp, mocking laugh, “You think because you’re a big girl that you have a cock now as well, you stupid cow? You are not a master, you are holes, and you will always, ALWAYS, perform as holes. When you touch your partner, always do so as what you are, empty holes that need attention.”
Stepping quickly up behind Lira, Mistress grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back and down to hiss in her ear, “You touch the Pale Sheath the way a desperate, dripping slave touches the man who owns her. With worship, not with your clumsy fucking paws. Do it right this time, or I’ll have you licking the dirt between the arrogant little slut’s toes while the rest of us watch.”
Matron nodded sagely, “Thank you, Gressa.”
Mistress bowed her head, stepping back and releasing the taller woman’s hair.
“You heard Mistress, Lira. Try again. Show us how a proper slave seduces.”
Lira nodded and stepped back up to me. She seemed nervous, as was I. My skin was alive and tingling, and the last thing I wanted was this brute touching me gently. I knew when I gave the trainers what they wanted, my soft sighs, that it would only be half of an act. My nerves were positively buzzing at the thought of a gentle caress.
Reaching out with one hand, Lira touched the side of my face. Her other hand went to my side and stroked up along it. A hard shiver ran up my spine, making me press my face to her hand. I moaned, not entirely my own doing, but I wanted to make the noise. Half to appease the trainers, half because the wine had my body in a confused mess.
When Lira’s hand slipped around to my back and she pressed herself to me, I did the same. Looking up at her, I hated how brutish and small her eyes were. Yet when her hand traveled down my back, I wanted to melt. I pushed my hips against her with a soft grind. I needed to feel something touching me below, even if I was the one making it happen.
I parted my lips, desperate for a kiss, and hoping that would be enough for them. That the trainers would see us compliant and pleasing, and stop this charade before my body demanded more. All the eyes on us, all the humiliation meant nothing in the desperate ache that my traitorous cunt tried to sate.
Lira pulled me into her and leaned her head down to kiss me. The nasty mouth, cruel in its stupid brutality, closed on my lips, and I hated myself for swooning, for being swept away by the press of her mouth and the heat of her hands. My palms slid over her hips and up her back before I could stop them. I didn’t care anymore. I wanted her to touch me, to ease the awful ache between my legs. I was only half convinced it was still a performance, my body was slick and throbbing with need that didn’t feel like mine.
“Excellent work, my sweet girls,” Matron announced with a clap. She touched both our shoulders as we backed away from each other, our heads down so we didn't have to look in each other's eyes. “That was a lovely start, and I could almost feel the passion in it.”
Matron turned back to the class in a swirl of silks that made me ache to feel them on my skin again. “Everyone, stand. Front row, turn to the back row. These are your partners for the moment. You will practice what Lira and Vessi just showed us.”
She turned to us, “Girls, you did so well. Now go take a place in line facing each other so you can continue practicing with the others.”
My heart sank, but I gave a shallow bow and a “Yes, Matron.” I’d have to caress Lira more, but at least now we’d be just another pair among the others and no longer on display. When we got in line, Lira looked at me and licked her lips. A new wave of disgust and horror washed through me. My body shivered in anticipation of her touch again, no matter how disgusted and ashamed I was.
We spent the next three hours practicing touching each other. Trainer and Mistress were always there to correct us, to offer suggestions. One thing that was not allowed was sexual contact. Any time one of the trainees touched another's genitals, there was the snap of the crop and a berating from Mistress about being a crude, gross whore. I thought it unfair she hadn’t accused Matron of the same just earlier. We were to use our hands, our lips, our gazes alone to build desire in our partner.
Thankfully, we rotated partners every fifteen minutes or so. I got to touch and feel half of my peers, several times. Most of the women had been slaves for some time, and so their touches made my body ache and yearn for more. But Mistress was always there to stop it. Trainer made a point of telling several of my partners they were doing well, just based on how slick my thighs were. Made only worse by her matter-of-fact tone, rather than the mocking cruelty of Mistress.
By the end of the three hours, I was quaking with need. I knew it was the wine. It was only the end of the second day, and I no longer felt any shame in being naked. By this point it felt almost natural. Six weeks of this and my mind and body would no longer see clothing as necessary. They would only be a hindrance to what I was becoming.
“Enough for tonight, my sweet pets,” Matron announced to the class as stars twinkled above her in the dark sky. “You have all done very well. I can see real progress in how you touch and offer yourselves.”
She beamed at us, her gaze moving along our lines. Then she stopped to look directly at me. “Look at our Pale Sheath… so wet. So beautifully responsive after only a few hours of honest practice. This is exactly what happens when a girl stops fighting and allows herself to serve as a proper slave should. Her body knows its purpose now.”
Matron smiled softly, waving me up to her. When I approached and knelt, she stroked my hair and asked, “Tell me truthfully, darling. What have you learned tonight? And what do you desire most in this moment?
My thighs quaked at the thought of asking what I most wanted right now. Mistress had chastised me several times for grinding myself against partners like a bitch in heat, trying to steal an undeserved orgasm from my owner.
My body thrummed so badly at the thought of getting off that my thighs trembled. Even though I knew it was the wine, not me… Not really. It didn’t make the aching, empty need any less. And the fact that everyone was watching didn’t matter, I’d do anything to find completion right now.
But… I knew it was a trap. The entire lesson had been about giving ourselves to others. About being more to them by offering everything. If I told Matron I needed relief, that it was my desire, I’d be a failure, and the entire group would probably be punished for it. I pushed the desperate, needy thoughts aside and dropped, pressing my hands and then my flushed cheek into the cool dirt at Matron’s feet.
“Matron… Please,” I whimpered, my voice dripping with shame and need. “Please let me serve you tonight. I belong to you and the training house. Use my mouth, my hands, my body in any way that pleases you. I promise I will do everything I can to satisfy every desire you have. Let me prove I can be a good girl for you.”
There was pregnant silence for a moment, then Matron answered, “Oh, my sweet Pale Sheath… such beautiful progress. Yes, darling. You may spend the night in my bed. You will serve me until I am fully satisfied. Come along.”
When I stood to follow, Matron smiled and put a hand on my shoulder, guiding me back down to my knees. “Crawl after me, sweet pet. A night in a bed is reward enough for you.”
She turned and walked slowly toward the house, her red silks making a gentle swishing sound as they brushed against her skin. I followed on hands and knees. I shot a quick glance at the other girls and saw eyes filled with jealousy and resentment.
I was bone-tired, so exhausted I tried not to picture what serving Matron might demand of me tonight. Still… I would sleep in a real bed. I had always known, deep down, how undignified it was, that the use of my body could earn small comforts. When dignity was already gone, there was no point pretending I wouldn’t trade it for whatever relief I could get.
