It turned out that sleeping, in this high alert state of mind, proved to be quite difficult. My brain was trying to play tricks on me.

“Why shouldn’t I just go down there and fuck her?”

“Do I really need to do it EXACTLY as planned?”

“I could be balldeep inside of her right now.”

Being blueballed by my own imagination wasn’t exactly how I’d pictured this first night to go, but I persevered. After all, there was one person who was definitely feeling worse than I did.

Before heading to bed, i had taken a last brief look at the monitors in my surveilence room, only to see Emily sitting next to the mattress on the cold, cement floor. Refusing to use her new bed might have been her way of protesting the situation.

Those small mutiny attempts came to be expected though. Half a day ago, she was a free & social human being. Now she was to become a naked & collared slave for her new owner. This sort of “fall” in the pecking order was quite dramatic and understandably traumatic.

When I woke up in the morning, not remembering at what point I eventually managed to fall asleep, I rushed straight to the monitors again.

Even though I had made sure Emily’s predicament was fully escape-proof, there was still a slight worry at the back of my head of arriving at the screen and seeing an empty cell with an opened door. After all, this had been my first ever kidnapping.

I had let out a sigh of relief as I saw her laying parallel to the wall, at the same spot I’d last seen her.

Having all the time in the world now, I went to my kitchen to make coffee. As I took the first sip, I took a quick look around.

The $6’000 coffee machine.

The $15’000 oven.

The large $10’000 smart fridge.

I thought about all of my possessions & how this collection was now richer by an item. Even though I couldn’t put a pricetag on Emily, I still owned her. She was now nothing more than an object.

Everything had its purpose. My car drove me to work. My watch told me the time. And Emily would satisfy my deepest and darkest needs.

That being said, she would not turn out to be the kind of status symbol I could brag on my friends with. What a bummer.

I was feeling rather hungry, which lead to a cooking session that might’ve been considered a little “overkill”.

Four grilled cheese sandwiches with avocado and tomato. I took my sweet time eating as I read the local newspaper. As expected, there weren’t any news about a missing girl yet, as those would surely take at least another day or two.

When my appetite felt satisfied, I opened one of my drawers to grab a rather large metal bowl to dump all the leftovers in. Giving my slave a regular dish was not an option, as she could’ve used broken ceramic to attack me or harm herself.

I’ll admit that the half eaten sandwich, which was now totally falling apart, didn’t exactly look like high cuisine, but I wanted Emily to mostly eat my leftovers in her new diet, as I believed this symbolized the differences in our statuses quite well.

After filling up a metal cup with water, I made my way to the basement, where I halted in front of her cell.

Fortunately, there was a small, lockable opening for me to pass her breakfast through, making it unnecessary to enter the room at all.

The act of unlocking this opening must’ve woken Emily up, as I saw her stairing at me when I took a peek inside.

I slided the bowl and cup through, before closing the gap again. My slave didn’t try to plead or negotiate at all during my short visit.

Overwhelmed by curiosity, I went straight to the monitor to see what she’d do in this new situation.

Unsurprisingly, given her previous refusal to use the mattress in her room, my slave didn’t move an inch from her spot. I could’ve forced her to eat by using the electronic collar around her neck, but I had a different strategy in mind.

I let a few hours pass, it was now early afternoon, when I once again stood in front of my slaves permanent residence.

As I took a last look at the live feed on my phone, I once again saw my pet in the very same place, kneeling naked in an almost apathetic kind of way.

Seemingly unfazed by my sudden presence, Emily didn’t even glance at me for a single second as i entered the cell.

Acting as if I didn’t already know about my slaves hunger strike, I disapprovingly looked at the full bowl at the floor, giving it a little bump with my shoe.

My eyes moved on to the cowering woman on the opposite side of the room, when I held up my phone with the “shock” button readily available at my fingertips.

Seeing this, Emily flinched and clenched her teeth in preparation of another electronic violation of her body. Much to her surprise, her only punishment turned out to be a stern look on my face.

“Get up”, I said in a relatively harsh tone.

Having spent all patience for the day, I gave her a short level 3 shock to get her going.

“Aah!”, was the only audible response I got before she reluctantly stood up.

“Hands to your side”, I commanded.

She gave me an angry, hateful look as she exposed her bare breasts yet again. This type of attitude wouldn’t be accepted in her new life.

“Maybe just do as I say and wipe that look off face”. I made sure to underline the words “do as I say” with additional low voltage shocks. It wasn’t enough to make her drop to the gound, but surely sufficient in getting the point across.

“Okay! Ahh! Okay! Please!”, she yelled as the electricity made its way through her body.

From my pocket, I withdrew a thick black pen and handed it to my naked slave, before ordering her to face the wall next to us.

“You’re now going to write down what I say. Word for word, exactly as I tell you, understood?”

“Okay”, she said in a slightly confused voice.

“Slave Rules:”

Emily side-eyed me for a second before beginning her task with a loud sigh. When I noticed her shaky hands producing barely readable letters, I took hold of her arm and turned her towards me.

Our faces were mere inches away from each other when I told her to relax and take a deep breath. Slightly comforted by my voice, Emily did as she was told.

“Calm yourself down, take deep breaths and finish the writing.”

It was the first time I’d shown any kind of compassion for my slave. Although I wasn’t planning on granting her this type of treatment often, I wanted her to complete the task to my satisfaction.

And it worked.

More relaxed, Emily turned back towards the wall and wrote the remaining letters in a visibly pleasing way.

“Well done”, I complimented her.

I didn’t wait for her to react and immediately continued.

“Rule 1: The Slave will always address its Owner as Sir.”

Stairing blankly at the wall in front of her, Emily bit her lip and suppressed the rage building up within her. She swallowed her pride and wrote the sentence as I intended.

“Do you understand the rule, slave?”, I asked, further provoking her. I just couldn’t help myself.

Full of shame, she whispered “Yes…Sir.”

The small electric shock I gave to her via my phone was enough to make her realise I wasn’t satisfied with her delivery.

“Aah! Yes! Yes Sir! Please! Ah!”, she bursted out.

When we turned back towards the cement wall,I said “That’s better” as I slapped her left asscheek, causing it to wiggle slightly.

I was sure I’d reached her boiling point. The moment her inner volcano would erupt. And although I certainly saw some of the lava bubbling, it didn’t.

To me, it was more than a simple slap. It was message to her. Even though she was a free thinking woman just a day ago, she now wasn’t. I could do with her what I wanted and when I wanted. All she could do is stand there and take it.

“Rule 2: The Slave will do whatever its Owner tells her to do, without hesitation or complaint.”

As she wrote it onto the wall, like a punished schoolgirl, I explained: “It seems like this rule will be especially important for you. If I tell you to do something, I expect immediate obedience. Your dignity or fears dont concern you anymore. Your goal is to satisfy your owners needs in any possible way”.

When she finished, I went on: “Rule 3: The slave will ask its owner for permission in order to eat, sleep or use the toilet”.

Hearing the last word, Emily turned her head towards the bucket lying on the ground with a disgusted expression on her face. Even though I enjoyed this moment, my slave was clearly already forgetting about Rule Number 2, as she stood there, eyes locked on what was supposed to be her new toilet.

BZZZZZZZZZ

I kept pressing the shock button as I reminded: “No hesitation, slave”.

“GHAAA! YES YES! SORRY YES!”, she yelled while struggling to keep standing.

My finger didn’t move though. If she wanted the assault to stop, Emily would have to learn her lesson.

“PLEASE STOP! PL..! Ah! PLEASE!”

Her eyes widened when she realised her mistake.

“SIR! I’M SORRY SIR! PLEASE SIR!”, she blasted out, unsure which exact variation I wanted to hear.

Satisfied, I lifted my finger from my phone screen, relieving a now heavy breathing Emily.

“Get to it, slave”, I commanded as I clapped my hands twice. This time, I was met with immediate obedience as she mindlessly started to write the thrid rule onto the wall.

“These three rules should be enough for now. I want you to study them and obey them at all times, if you don’t want to be punished. Understood?”

Sinking her head in shame, she answered: “Yes Sir.”

“Now for a little homework. As soon as I’m gone, I want you to kneel on the ground, legs apart and hands behind your head while reading the three rules, loud and clearly. You’ll only stop once I tell you to. Got it?”

Not excited about the prospect of having to do this task, Emily rolled her eyes a little as she answered with the obligatory “Yes Sir.”

A slight slip-up, which I decided to leave unpunished.

I stepped closer and noticed some of her hair being stuck to one side of her sweat drenched face. Her little shocking therapy must’ve been even more challenging than I thought.

As I brushed it back behind her ears, I complimented her efforts with a soothing “Good girl” as I delivered two soft slaps to her face.

Not even waiting for any type of reaction by my slave, I turned my back towards her, picked up the uneaten food and left the room.

When I arrived at the kitchen, I set down the bowl and took out my phone in order to see the live feed of Emily’s cell.

An astonishing amount of pleasure rushed through my body when I saw my slave in the desired position, reading the three rules from her wall over and over again.

I had her.

to be continued.