Chapter 32 My Birthday
The purpose of the training center was to break down the slaves to the point they’d obey even if the order was to walk into a firelit furnace and burn alive.
This was and always had been every man’s dream, after all—three holes, nice face, tits, butt, and hair.
That’s all that had ever mattered to men about women, and that’s what we were providing.
Men didn’t want someone with an opinion, knowledge.
There was no partnership between men and women.
That was all bullshit. If they needed advice, they’d go to other men.
If they needed a partner again, there were other men for that.
Women were for fucking, coming inside of, and breeding. That was the reality of our world.
The goal of a trainer, or Lord as we labeled ourselves, was to figure out the slaves’ weakest point and thwart it so they’d comply effortlessly and gracefully.
So, near the end of the training, a few months before being officially sold, we’d do a test in a public ceremony, in which we’d push them beyond reason to see how they survived it.
If they peacefully and gracefully complied, they were ready.
Then we’d reintroduce them to nature so they could at least act as if we hadn’t burned out every one of their fucking brain cells.
Of course, I already knew Magdalena’s weakest point since I’d first seen her on the table.
I knew what would trigger the shit out of her, what could make her rebel.
But I wasn’t willing to put her on the table again to share her with any other Lord, so I did the next best thing.
I’d practically ended those disgusting fests as soon as I gained enough power anyway.
Regardless, I was already struggling with the idea that some customer would soon have her to himself.
I mean, I fantasized about breaking in to fuck her over there in his house.
I already had a deal in place with the Silver Fox.
This meant the selling of her would be the end of his own empire.
It was poetic really. Just after the spanking of her on stage, he’d started asking me for videos of me training her.
On my so-called birthday, the first day I woke up after I stabbed her on the table thirteen years before, I commenced her test. I put a bunch of candles on her back so she wouldn’t even think of disobeying me and raped her ass.
I needed her to pass the test, so she either had to obey me, or we’d both burn to death.
And God Almighty had it been the best fucking day of my life.
That’s only because I liked how rebellious she still was.
Only I knew how much of herself she repressed to obey me.
There were hiccups. For moments, I felt the rebelling bubbling up, but in the end, she’d prioritized me.
I enjoyed watching her shatter into a million pieces, wondering how she could enjoy something so disgusting, questioning everything about herself, then I’d put her back together.
By the end of it, I was dying to do it all over again.
My problem was, if not for the candles, she definitely would’ve failed the test. She wasn’t completely broken, yet.
Not at all. The way she cried, screamed, and wailed instead of staying in place, apathetic, and taking it, meant she wasn’t ready.
She still couldn’t handle being pushed beyond her limit.
The reason I needed her to pass was because Master had called me to meet him in Portugal.
I couldn’t leave her in the bunker by herself for God knows how long without seeing daylight and getting proper nutrition while I got ass raped across the Atlantic.
Until a slave subconsciously obeyed everything we told them to do, she wasn’t granted any privileges.
Those were the rules, and that was my problem.
The other lords and some customers were still sitting outside the two-way mirror talking about the show I’d just put on for them. I thought with all the time I took in the shower, trying to calm her, they would have left already, but I guessed they were waiting for me to come out.
Lord Calvin held his hand up in the air, waiting for a high-five, and I gave it to him. “You’ve done it again.”
“You think so? I don’t know—”
“Dude, she’s fucking perfection. I mean, she protested, but that’s what makes it so fucking delicious. I just wanted to wait to congratulate you before I go fuck the living shit out of my slave’s ass.”
“Thanks, I think,” I said, turning to look in through the mirror as he and the rest of the crowd walked away. She was fast asleep on her bed, looking gorgeous.
I packed enough for a week, then sat at the end of my bed staring at the sky and forest through my window. It hurt to even think of being apart from her, but I knew I needed this so I could prepare myself.