The hinges on the cell door screeched loudly as Mistress Lena swung it open, by intention. All the cell doors made noise, to let the occupant inside know someone was coming in, a noise they would quickly equate with the pain of the training sessions that inevitably followed and learn to dread the sound. The door got stuck a couple times before fully opening, forcing Mistress Lena to use a bit more force to get it moving again. “Too much grit.” She thought, making a note to have the hinges oiled, but not so much the proper sound was lost. Like every part of her job, it was a careful balancing act. 

The imposing 36-year old dark haired woman said nothing as she entered the cell, but paced, letting the sound of the heels of her leather boots echo in the cell, slow and methodical. The cell’s lone occupant couldn’t see Lena, of course, but she could hear and hearing the Mistress circling around her like…like any number of predators Lena might like to compare herself to, would further increase her fear and apprehension for what was coming. 

As she delayed, the Mistress glanced at the prisoner’s file, though she’d skimmed it already. It was so much like many other files of other captives she’d seen over the years. One Ms. Carol Foster, less than three weeks past her 18th birthday. Born to a good family, raised in a small suburban town, very outgoing and social, middling scores in academics, but exceeded in extra curriculars. Mistress Lena flipped a page. “This one did track and choir.” She thought, a small change from the usual cheerleaders and soccer stars that regularly passed through here.

All in all, it had seemed Ms. Foster’s destiny was to graduate High School, head off to college, probably join a sorority, get her degree and work a few years in marketing or real estate or whatever until she married Mr. Right and got to work raising the next generation of sheltered suburbanites. 

At least, that had been the case before a ‘talent scout’ for the organization Lena worked for had spotted the teen and decided her real future was as a mindless sex slave serving one of the organization’s wealthy clients. Three days ago, a ‘recruiter’ had paid a visit to the unlucky girl, snatching her out of her bed in the middle of the night. After spending the intervening time either bouncing around in the trunk of the recruiter’s car or locked in a cage in a series of hidden waystations, always tightly bound and gagged, Ms. Foster had arrived here in the dungeon where Lena had drawn the task of breaking her will and teaching her to be an obedient and willing slave girl. 

Putting the file aside, Mistress Lena looked down at the actual girl herself. The slave handlers had secured the teen just as Lena had requested. Poor Carol knelt on the floor in the center of the room. Her arms and legs were both wrapped in tight leather sheathes, while above a thick collar and hood wrapped her from shoulder up, leaving only her nose visible through a slit for breathing. Aside from that, though, the girl was completely naked. She sat still, only the occasional trembling or bobbing of the head telling the Mistress her captive was conscious and terrified. Presumably, she’d realized in her current state that struggling was futile and she should try to save her strength, as much as possible. 

Finally, at a moment Mistress Lena’s instincts told her Carol’s nerves would have been stretched as far as they would go, she addressed the captive girl. “I suppose by now you’ve probably guessed why you’ve been brought here.” She noted how the hood turned in the direction of her voice, as though trying to look through the thick leather shroud. 

“But if you are slow on the uptick, let me fill you in. I work for an international organization that finds and acquires pretty, young girls such as yourself, prepares them for their new lives and delivers them to our wealthy clients all around the world.” Carol let out a distressed groan. Whether she really hadn’t guessed that or it was just hearing it spoken aloud and confirmed, the truth of her situation distressed her. 

“My job is to see that, before you leave this dungeon, your will is completely broken, your personality reshaped to have only one thought: pleasing your future owner in whatever way they demand!” That did the trick. Carol let out a terrified wail. Forgetting her earlier conclusion, the teen threw herself into fierce struggling against the tight leather straps with all the force her small body held. 

The other woman smiled, letting her captive get well into her panic. Then, the Mistress stepped forward. With a practiced hand, she reached down and casually pinched Carol’s nostrils shut. With that closed, the girl was cut off from fresh air and her exertions meant she was put out of breath. She tried shaking her head back and forth, but Mistress Lena was used to this behavior in the girls she broke and trained and she had little trouble keeping her grip. Carol’s moan took on a frantic tone as her need for air intensified. 

“Settle down, my dear!” Lena told her, quiet but sternly. “Then I’ll let you breathe again.” She kept her fingers pinched together as Carol squirmed, grunting desperately. “Stop struggling and I’ll let you breathe. If not, I have no qualms holding until you pass out.” This got through to the girl and she stopped fighting at once. Carol groaned pleadingly through the hood’s built in gag. 

Mistress Lena held her grip just a second or two longer, enjoying the power she had over this girl, like all the other captives unfortunate enough to fall into her clutches, then she released her fingers. Carol breathed in deeply, sucking in vital oxygen, bare chest heaving with each gasp of air. The other woman smiled, letting the teen recover for a moment longer. She always liked to start off with a quick bit of breathplay. The fact she could, with such a simple gesture, withhold or allow something so vital from her captive told the slave-girl-to-be just the power dynamic here would be. Mistress Lena had the power and Carol would just have to obey. 

To drive this point home, Lena reached down and suddenly pinched the teen’s nose again. She’d time it to an exhale so the captive girl’s lungs were empty and would start burning for air all too soon. “Do you understand how things work here? Are you going to be a good slave for Mistress Lena?” She asked. 

At first, Carol grunted miserably through the hood, but her need for air left her little option. When Lena repeated her question, she sobbed, letting out an affirmative moan. “Nod, slave. Nod for me. Show me that you want to be a good little slave. One who does everything her mistress tells her to do.” 

Frantically, the teen nodded and was rewarded with restored access to air. As she gasped for breath, Lena smiled. So far, so good, though this was just the beginning. Forcing agreement by threat of death was one thing, but it would take much more to get Carol to the point she accepted her new place in life, completely and sincerely. And Lena was looking forward to putting her through all of it. 

“Very good slave. We’ll begin your training now…”