Carol was coming along nicely in her training. For the first few days in the dungeon, the 18-year old girl had resisted Mistress Lena’s efforts to break her will and mold her into the sort of obedient slave her organization’s wealthy and powerful clients demanded. But the punishments this brought had eventually worn her down to the point she started obeying commands, promptly if still sullenly, instead of the defiant resistance the girl had, hitherto, displayed.
It was a good first step, but only the first. Lena knew the younger woman’s cooperation was born from a desire to avoid further punishment, not from any acceptance that she was a slave now. For most, that would be enough. So long as she was kept secured, with the threat of punishment hanging over her, the slave would obey. But there would always be that nugget of resistance, at the core of her being and given the slightest chance, she might seize any opportunity to escape, to be a free woman again and not remain a slave. For a top quality piece of merchandise, of the sort Mistress Lena prided herself on providing, it was necessary to snuff out that last ember completely, so the girl knew herself to be a slave, through and through. Constant bondage and punishment would not be needed. For such a slave mere disobedience, let along rebellion and escape, would be unthinkable.
In that regard, poor Carol still had quite a long and painful way to go, but it was a process which couldn’t be hurried along. In the meantime, she could start to teach the new slave girl other things which would be valuable for her future as some rich man’s plaything.
“Today, we’re going to work on your posture, slave.” Mistress Lena said, regarding the girl standing in front of her.
Carol had been cooperative enough the last few days to escape the strict and heavy bondage she’d endured her first few week in the dungeon. Except the collar around her neck, of course, that would stay on to remind her what she was now: a slave, until it was time for her to meet her new owner, who would doubtless mark the occasion by putting their own collar on her. The teen also had her wrists handcuffed behind her back and leg irons around her ankles, it was a strict policy that the slaves had to be kept restrained when out of their cells, as she was at the moment. Finally, a large ballgag was strapped deep in Carol’s mouth. Though the teen had learned not to curse or insult her Mistress, she was still having a hard time remembering that slaves didn’t speak at all, except when asked a question. Wearing an uncomfortable gag for a day or two would help her to remember to hold her tongue in the future, hopefully. If not, she’d keep wearing it until the lesson sank in.
The pair were currently in one of the dungeon’s exercise rooms. It held the typical mix of treadmills, weight machines and other workout devices found in any ordinary gym, though those wouldn’t have been modified with points for shackling the user to the machine, not the additions for ‘rewards and punishments.’
“I’m afraid your posture is all wrong, slave.” Lena waved a hand at Carol. The teen stood, much as she always did here in the dungeon: hunched forward, shoulder curled in, legs slightly bent as if she were trying to make herself smaller and so escape the notice of her tormentor. “A proper slave stands at attention, waiting for her next command. Straighten that back, shoulders up, legs straight, stomach in, chest out!”
As she gave these instructions, Mistress Lena physically adjusted the teen’s body, pushing her into position with her gloved hands. Carol accepted the casual handling with dull acceptance, even when the older woman cupped her young, perky breasts, to emphasize how they should be thrust out, invitingly. When she’d first arrived, the teen had been understandably embarrassed, having her naked body touched by another woman, but after all that had been done to her in the past few weeks, by Lena and by some of the dungeon’s male trainers, the new slave girl felt no embarrassment at all, whatever they did to her naked body.
Once Carol was in the correct orientation, Mistress Lena gave her a minute to memorize the right posture. “From now on, whenever a man or free woman enters, you are to be in this posture.” Lena told the slave. “Unless you are given permission to relax.” She paused a second and said, “At ease, slave.” Carol had barely slumped down then her trainer snapped, “Attention!” Instantly, the teen straightened back into the strict posture she’d been taught, or something close to it.
Lena circled around the girl, pointing out where she’d failed and administering a couple quick swats to the girl’s bottom or breasts, as punishment for each infraction. She allowed Carol to relax a moment, then ordered her to attention again. This time, the slave was more careful, perfectly adopting the posture required of her. For a few minutes, they practiced this, until Carol was able to come to a perfect attention each time Lena barked the order.
“Of course, it is not enough to be able to hold this posture when standing still. You must keep perfect posture while obeying all orders.” The Mistress told her slave. “We will start with keeping proper posture while walking.”
Grabbing the teen, Mistress Lena led her to one of the treadmills. From the panel at the front, she pulled out a trio of long, flexible wires which ended in metal clamps. Two were swiftly affixed to Carol’s nipples, the third to an equally sensitive spot between her legs. By now, the slave girl was familiar enough with such devices, she did not need her Mistress to remind her that they could deliver a painful punishment shock, should she fail to maintain her posture.
“What will determine that are these.” Lena told her captive, taking out several small cloth balls, of the sort used for juggling. She set one each atop the girl’s head and left and right shoulder. They squished down enough to sit in place, but it wouldn’t take much to make one roll off and fall. Carol would need to stand ramrod straight and walk as smoothly as she could to avoid the shock.
“Simple enough, really.” Lena told her, grinning cruelly. “Drop one ball, you’ll receive a level 1 punishment. Drop two or all three and you’ll get higher level shocks. Understand?” Carol whimpered in fright, certain she was in for a rough time, but the slave had no choice here. She could comply with the order or, more likely, suffer the penalty for failure.
So it was. No sooner had Mistress Lena started up the treadmill at a slow, walking pace, then Carol shuffled forward a bit too quickly. The ball atop her head tottered and fell, sliding down the length of the treadmill and onto the floor. Lena stopped the treadmill. “Remember to keep your posture straight, slave.” She tutted, smiling as she hit the button for a level 1 punishment. Carol yelped as a shock zipped through one of the clamps into her left tit. As she chewed on her ballgag, miserably, her Mistress picked up the ball and placed it back atop her head.
This time, when Lena started the machine again, Carol got a half dozen paces forward before she lost her posture. Two balls fell this time and in punishment both her tits got shocked. Tears welled up in her eyes as things were once more reset. Mistress Lena, on the other hand, was smiling as she hit the start button a third time. For her, the day promised to be fun and productive. She would get to torment her captive pupil again and again and, by the end of it, young Carol would be one step closer to her transformation into a perfect slave girl.
“Watch that posture, slave.” She said, grinning as Carol misjudged a step. As the chain on her leg irons snapped taut, the girl wearing them stumbled. She managed to stay upright, more or less, but the balls fell, all three of them, one after another. “Don’t worry…” Mistress Lena taunted, reaching for the Level 3 shock button. “We have all day to practice…”