Kelly still couldn’t understand what had happened. One night she’d gone to a party with some friends and gotten very drunk, her friends had called her a cab to take her home and getting in was her last memory of the night. The next thing she knew she was lying naked in a field in some place that all looked subtly wrong compared to the Earth she knew. And if that wasn’t scary enough, she discovered that she too had been altered. First of all, she was green, and she had this horse-like tail sticking out of her butt. She was so startled that she’d screamed.
Almost immediately she was set upon by a group of blue guys, who bound her and dragged her off to be added to a collection of other green people who looked much like she did. Her attempts to communicate with her captors failed; firstly because she found she couldn’t articulate anything that sounded even vaguely to herself like language, her voice seemed only capable of making animal-like noises – nothing that even vaguely sounded like English; and secondly because she couldn’t understand a word of the gabble the blue guys kept chattering back and forth to each other. None of this made any sense to her, all she knew was that she didn’t deserve to be treated like this, that she was a human being, not an animal, and she was an American, she had rights.
Her captors didn’t seem concerned with her thoughts, they just became quite intent on training their green captives, including her. At first she’d fought against it, but then the one who was attempting to train her grew frustrated and grabbed her by the hair and dragged her over to a stump that was being used to chop wood and threatened to chop off her head with the wood hatchet. That threat had quelled all resistance from her. She immediately decided that she’d much rather be a live - whatever it was they were trying to train her as - then a dead “free American girl.” After that she became a fairly model captive. In fact they seemed quite interested in the discovery that she seemed somewhat smarter than most of their other captives since she caught on to what they were trying to train her to do faster than the other greenies. At least that’s what she guessed based on the fact that the other trainers often watched her being trained. And the entire time of her captivity she was kept naked except for the metal collar they’d locked around her throat. It was all terribly embarrassing, but there didn’t seem to be anything she could do about it, and she didn’t dare do anything that would enrage them again.
Early in her training she’d been tightly bound and gagged while a leather worker had used a leather punch to pierce the septum of her nose which had hurt immensely, then her ears, then her nipples which was also excruciating, and finally her clit, which had her writhing in agony for hours afterwards. Each ring had been pinched closed, and then a drop of molten metal had permanently closed the rings. She’d been left to her misery, still tightly bound, until the next day when she’d been untied by her trainer so he could continue her training. She’d quickly discovered that the rings weren’t meant as jewelry so much as just a simple method for her captors to control her. The rings hurt, but not nearly as much as when they were grabbed and twisted and pulled by her captors. Her trainer would sometimes grab one of the rings at random and attach a leash to it before leading her off for her daily training regimen. Her whole life suddenly became focused on doing anything she could to avoid any extra pain and suffering.
Her training had largely been focused on obedience; she was trained to immediately respond to single-word commands. Additionally, her trainer would frequently sexually molest her, but rarely actually raped her. At first she was terrified of being so brusquely handled by a male she didn’t know or trust, but after a while the fear ebbed and all that was left was the sexual torment of being teased and not being given release.
After several weeks of training she’d been auctioned off at a local town auction. The fellow who purchased her took her leash and immediately dragged her off to a leather shop where she was fitted with a waist-cincher harness, long gloves of a sort with a fingerless ball for her hand to fit into, boots that forced her to walk mostly on the balls of her feet, a close-fitting leather collar that all but prevented her from turning her head at all, and bit-and-bridle. All of this was tightly laced to her body and carefully fitted. Once this was finished, her new owner led her off to finally stop at a small cart stacked with crates and boxes. The cart looked immensely heavy to her. Her owner backed her between the poles and then hooked them into the rings on her harness. When she realized she was being set up to be used as a cart horse she was ready to balk, but then her owner connected a leash to her nose ring and started walking, pulling her along. Horrified she’d thrown herself against the cart, desperate to follow her owner to avoid having her entire face ripped off by the ring in her nose. She knew that this wouldn’t really happen, but she couldn’t resist the fear in any case. The only thing she could be thankful for was that her owner didn’t push the pace too hard; it was a relentless struggle for her to keep up considering she was entirely unused to this much physical exertion, but the insistent tug at the ring in her nose kept her moving even after she felt overwhelmed by fatigue.
Many hours later, as night began to fall; her owner led the cart off the road that led from town. He removed her from the cart and carefully unhooked and unlaced each piece of her new harness. First he quickly cleaned each piece of the equipment before hanging it up to dry in the night air. Then he led her to the nearby stream and carefully washed her off while she stood helplessly shaking with exhaustion. She was still in a runner’s high endorphin-fueled fugue state when he watered her, fed her, massaged all the kinks and cramps out of her muscles and finally rolled her into a blanket. At first she hardly noticed that his touches had taken on a distinctly sexual undertone, but then her trained attitude of compliance began to war with her terror of being raped. To her surprise and dismay her owner seemed to know exactly what to do with his mouth and fingers to push her body into a state of intense arousal, and when her sexual desperation had peaked, he’d ravished her. Her previous sexual experiences had never been this intense; despite her natural fear of being raped, the long days of sexual torment and desperation lead her into the most mind-blowing orgasm she’d ever experienced just as her owner had reached his own climax. Afterwards she’d been too exhausted to struggle when he’d cuddled her and fallen asleep. Physically and mentally and emotionally overwhelmed, she’d drifted off herself soon after despite her turmoil. Her dreams that night were filled with variations of that sexual encounter and reminders of her intense orgasm. She didn’t even realize in her sleep that she was subtly massaging her pubic mound.
The next morning she discovered that she was just as horny as her master seemed to be, and they engaged in another intense sexual encounter. Afterwards, when they’d both caught their breath, she was fed and watered and quickly washed down before being laced and buckled back into her harness-gear, and finally hooked up to the rails of the cart. This time her owner attached the leash to one of her nipple-rings before setting off. Between the endorphin rush from her exertions and the constant tugging at her nipple along with the bouncing of her other rings she was in a sexually desperate state that was in complete conflict with her physical exhaustion by the time he pulled her over into a field at around noon for a break. Once they’d both been fed and watered he ravished her again, this time without even freeing her from the gear. She didn’t really care, and the orgasm she experienced was every bit as potent as her first the night before. After what she was sure was a far too short rest they continued their travel, with the afternoon being a repeat of the previous afternoon, and the evening being more or less repeated. Between the endorphin buzz, the various sensations of her piercings and her minds insistence on focusing on images of their sexual encounters she was quite stimulated and ready for another encounter with her owner, and he didn’t fail to deliver. Nor did he fail to drive her into another mind-blowing orgasm.
This world was so strange that she couldn’t help but be startled by nearly every new and strange thing she saw, so eventually her owner invested into a pair of blinders for her headstall so that she could only see what was directly in front of her. That was frustrating, being treated like nothing more than a dumb animal when she knew she was probably smarter than her owner. But with no way to communicate with him she was trapped. She listened carefully any time he talked, trying to make sense of the strange local language, and eventually she began to recognize the meanings of some words here and there, but she still found that her voice was incapable of making most of those sounds. The written language was even more hopeless, she rarely saw any examples of it, and without somebody to teach her the meanings of the characters she had no chance. And of course nobody here understood her written English; they probably just assumed it was random chicken-scratching.
She eventually determined that her master was some sort of traveling salesman. The boxes and crates in his cart contained a variety of items that he’d unpack for potential customers to peruse. Their travels would stop briefly every time they entered a new village, town, or city, and then eventually continue on. Everywhere they went she saw blue people like her master, and green people like her. And everywhere, the green people were treated exactly like animals instead of people. She realized that there was no real chance for her to escape this new and unfamiliar life.
This new world was so strange, yet so familiar in some ways. And in some ways it felt so much better: the air was cleaner, fresher, and richer; the sunlight was warm and made her skin tingle with excitement and energy. Even the constant labor made her feel more alive. Eventually her legs and lungs strengthened enough that the labor wasn’t so hard. She couldn’t see her master walking beside her, but the constant tapping of the cane against her bottom reminded her that he was close, and that she should continue moving. Even though the taps were soft, usually, each one sent a thrill straight to her clit, which full swelled as blood pumped into it and it strained against the embedded ring, giving her a brief spike of pain and pleasure that sent little driblets of moisture down the inside of her thighs. Sometimes she’d even deliberately slow her pace so he’d strike her harder to get her moving again, the harder switches caused a response that was intense enough to nearly make her orgasm. She knew he could see the moisture running down the insides of her thighs, and she assumes he knew what was causing it. Although some deep-seated part of her was embarrassed about the whole thing, the part of her that was now in control just enjoyed the sensations she was experiencing.
As the next days flowed into weeks she found herself becoming used to her new life. She also found her obsession with their frequent sexual encounters to be totally addicting. Eventually her memories of being a “free American girl” were nearly forgotten. All that really mattered was her service to her master, and the positive and frequent attentions she received for her efforts. She was frightened of her growing sexual addiction at first, but her fears were completely overridden by the pleasure it gave her. Eventually she forgot her dreams of being back home and she simply hoped that nothing would happen to remove the joy she was taking in her new life. Those rare moments when she remembered her old life, she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to return to it.
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DAZ2.3 + Aiko3 + Hiro3
Current Residence: St Paul, Minnesota, USA|
deviantWEAR sizing preference: Medium
Print preference: readable
Favourite genre of music: Alternative
Favourite photographer: MJRanum
Favourite style of art: Anything colorfull and evocative
Operating System: Windows XP Pro
Skin of choice: human female
Favourite cartoon character: Cheetara
Personal Quote: Being Human means you WILL F everything up sometimes. And that's ok.