One-Month Dehumanization

The back-alley hypnotist panted heavily. It could have gone much better. She was strong enough to no longer want his therapy. A little too fast for his liking, so he sped up the schedule to the "knock her out and kidnap her" phase. Driving back into his garage, he pulled the unconscious girl out of the back seat and dragged her to the basement laundry room. There, he started to follow the plan he came up with in the beginning.

He overturned two chairs so their legs faced upwards. Then he slid them together, so the legs faced opposite directions before placing the girl in the middle and tying her arms to the legs of the thicker chair. She was a waif, but you had to be careful. The predator tied her torso to the chair's back and let her plump ass lie over the open drainage hole that had been installed to prevent flooding. There would be flooding, but not what the original owner had initially intended.

Tying the girl's legs to the back of the other chair was fast. He gazed over her healthy, sexy body for a second. She looked at peace. Disgusting. With a strike to the solar plexus, he woke her up. She screamed into the gag, expelling all the air in her lungs. In one deft movement, her captor clasped a gas mask onto her mouth and nose, the kind used on high-class planes in case of crashes. She took grand breaths, trying to replenish her oxygen supply. All she sucked in was a special gas blend meant for slaves.

She was completely under in seconds. The gas was a powerful hypnotic and she was ever so susceptible. She would relax as soon as anyone asked. Her mind would go blank, and she would be able to drift off into sleep. The demon above her had picked her specifically for that. Nearly anyone can be hypnotized, but less than 4% of people could be completely overwritten. Her captor wanted to utterly break her and so he had become her therapist. Teaching her to be strong, yet improving her gift of mental malleability while jerking off during each session while looking at her innocent, entranced body. He taught her to consciously resist coercion and negotiation.

A willing blade of grass can't be shattered by a storm, only bent. To be truly broken, you must be made brittle and unbendable.

She had a name, but now she didn't. To break her, she could no longer have any identification as a human, animal or even a specific item. She was no longer a proper noun. Nothing she wore was a proper noun either, as he removed all of it and threw it into the incinerator. It was a little out of place in this modern house, but he'd always found incinerators to be interesting. If you want to unmake most things, all you need is enough fire. Clothing, I.D, things. He'd destroyed the first two. Once this girl became a thing and he got bored of it, he would destroy her too. But first, her clothing.

Soon her beautiful pussy was completely exposed as he removed her lacy panties. It was hairy and definitely used. Not by a man, he thought. Masturbation only, most likely. The hair was a problem. He'd pluck it out hair-by-hair soon enough. He used the forceps to unhood her sensitive clitoris. He gave it a firm twist and growled "This is pleasure" to the sound of her shrieks. He continued working on her clit until it had been suitably tortured. He didn't want it to lose any sensitivity.

Her nipples were firmly erect. He grabbed her left nipple with the forceps and gave it a yank. She screamed with renewed vigor as new pain travelled to her brain. Then he licked and suckled on it, giving her the slightest pleasure. switching to the other tit, he stretched it into a grotesque cone. He began alternating between each nipple right, left, right, left, rinse and repeat. All the while telling her that this was true ecstasy.

He continued this for two weeks. The most important part was injecting her jaws with a kind of botox, making them eventually useless. She could no longer speak or chew. Her meals were sucked into her gullet or force-fed. As mentally promised, he tugged away every hair from her vagina, pleasuring her through it all. Clamps were attached to her nipples, needles pierced her skin and a rag of putrid dumpster drippings was placed on her face. Her torturer slid a dildo with a clit stimulator into her vagina. Unlike any other dildos he would use later, this was expensive and meant to give luxuriant pleasure to a woman. He would remove the rag, set the vibe to pulse randomly every 10-20 seconds and whip her as hard as possible when that happened. The clamps flipped off, the needles snapped and tore at her skin. And all the while, the vibrator hummed the same tune as the whip's strikes against her skin. After two sessions, she began to want him to whip her faster, just so that the vibrator would buzz faster and she could have an orgasm.

More days passed. She was still tied to her chairs, as the bondage equipment hadn't come yet. Her jailer had purchased everything at a discount beforehand and planned the capture around it's arrival. With the change in plans, it would be a week before the stuff came. No matter. He could wait.

He injected a stimulant into her bloodstream, then spoke to her. "It's all right, you're waking up. Let my voice fade from your mind. Remember, it's bad to sleep; in fact, it's horrible to fall asleep. Trance isn't sleep. If you're tired, go into a deep trance. Trance is good. The only thing as good as trance is suffering. Pain is pleasure. Sleep is bad. You'll be grateful to anyone who takes away the sleep. Especially with pain. Now, Sleeptime."

She obediently fell asleep to the sound of the trigger, even with the stimulant making her sensitive and filling her with energy. The sadistic hypnotist took out a taser and gave her a strong jolt. She jerked awake and glared at him with the eyes of unconditional love. She hated him and yet loved what he did in a way she had never even thought of before. Of course she shouldn't even suspect that he was still hypnotizing her. At least that's what he wanted her to think. He'd already begun to see her as a thing, a non-person, something that cannot feel emotion. So it took him a while to realize that he was doing more than he'd meant to. She was already starting to confuse pleasure and pain.

So he moved up the schedule.

He wanted to whore her out, save up money for a cattle brand and brand her in a month. Branding time had come in only 20 days. So he improvised, taking strong cutlery and putting it in his incinerator, them bending it using heavy-duty gloves. Once it was in the shape of a heart with two hypnotic spirals, he threw it into the incinerator, turned it off, retrieved it and slammed it into her flesh. She screamed and pissed herself, but started to moan afterwards. It had been a scream of pain and an orgasm. The brand had smushed a little, he noted. Also, it was on her side. He'd have to redo it eventually. Not like he cared. He'd brand her entire body it it wouldn't make her less sensitive in time.

He taught her how to give blowjobs. No need to worry about biting since she her mouth was useless. It was really just deepthroating with a little lip-action, nothing in between. She was pitiful at it, like a pig. The hypnotist bought her a collar and a strip of leather with two hooks on it. He put a hook in each nostril, pulled the strip up over her head and fastened it to the back of the collar. Now she looked even more like a pig.

It had only been about a month. The sex table and enema gear had finally arrived. To celebrate, the pervert entranced her, put her onto the table and strapped her in, giving her a large enema before reawakening her. The sudden feeling of fullness nearly made her shoot out all the water. An oversized buttplug was shoved into her before that happened, making her bleed due to the lack of lubricant. He angrily slapped her tits, bloated stomach, ass and sides; paying special attention to her healing brand mark. She writhed and wriggled from the pain of the slaps and the water in her ass. Yet she was becoming very wet. He stuck his cock in her technically-virgin cunt and began to fuck her, lasting only a few seconds.

To hide his shameful stamina, he pulled out a larger, gnarled dildo and raped her with it. It hurt. There was no magic pleasure to override the pain of the rape. But the pain was pleasure. Or perhaps it was all pleasure, and therefore pain. It didn't know. She was not a she but an it, nothing more than a thing that could feel one sensation. As it felt the dildo slam into it's cunt, the fake cockhead slammed into the slave's cervix. It hurt like nothing ever had, so it came instantly. With repeated stimulation, the cervix can become the most sensitive part of the female body. It would become the slave-thing's orgasm button in no time at all. It passed out afterwards.

The hypnotist went to sleep afterwards, waking up an hour later after he remembered that he had given the slave an enema. He returned in his sleepwear to see the pitiful pig groaning as the pressure built in it's intestines. A little of the novelty-size dildo had come out and a few drops of dirty water. He unbound the former female and put it back where the two chairs were, returning her to the same position she had initially woken up to in this house. With a vicious stomp, he slammed his right foot onto her stomach. The slave moaned as hard as it could, air passing it's disused vocal cords and bellowing out. More of a moo than an oink, really. If he could induce lactation, the captor thought, it could become a cow slave and a pig slave. Just a general slutty farm freak!

A second stomp forced the dildo out. It fell down the ungrated drainage hole, chased by the contents of the thing's colon. The IV only diet made the water as clean coming out as it was going it. Perhaps he should make it drink that water next time and be grateful for it. With a smirk, the hypnotist returned to bed, the trickling of water from his possession's anal passages lulling him to sleep. His dreams were all about putting his captive through horrific trials for his amusement. Breaking its body to match its mind, forcing it to satisfy hundreds of people, pushing it to its limits. And finally disposing of it like trash with the incinerator. A horror worthy of the deepest pits of hell.

If you had told it what he was dreaming of, it'd call it paradise.