The following night was pretty uneventful. Before I went to bed, I had taken a last look at the cell’s live feed, which displayed Emily walking up and down the cold cement floor.

After all this adrenaline, it seemed as if a phase of boredom had slowly taken over.

My short visits would be the only kind of “entertainment” in my slavegirls new life.

As I woke up the next morning, I was greeted by the hardest morning wood i had ever experienced. Although the urge to stroke my large cock and get rid of all the pent up pressure was immense, I somehow managed to persevere.

I had refrained of any masturbation during the last two weeks. I’d never participated in any “No Nut November” type of challenge, as I found those to be pointless and silly. This time however, I had proper reasoning.

All the cum slowly building up in my balls was destined for a very special person.

And that fateful day had come.

For breakfast, I went for simple pancakes with maple syrup. Fortunately, it turned out that my slave didn’t have any allergies, which would give me lots of culinary options in the future.

When I passed my leftovers through the opening in her door, I was pleasantly surprised to see her approach me right away. Last night’s lesson must’ve been very effective in this regard.

I interrupted her attempt of grabbing the bowl off the floor: “Stop, slave.”

Confused, her eyes met mine as I peeked through the gap.

“Rule 3.”

Immediately, Emily’s head turned to the three rules she’d written on her wall. Realising her mistake, my slaves gaze was now directed at her own feet. Full of shame at having to do this, she asked: “Can I eat please, sir?”

“Dont use the word can when you ask your owner for permission to do something”, I corrected.

After a few seconds of intense thinking, my slave went for another attempt: “May I please eat, sir?”, this time looking me straight in the eyes, in hopes of approval.

“Yes you may. Bon appétite.”

Unsure about how to answer, my slave went for a quiet “Thank you, sir”, as she grabbed her meal and moved back to the mattress.

When she finished, I was satisfied to see her lick the bowl clean this time. Emily was making great progress in her journey of becoming my servant.

As I entered her room to remove the empty dishes, I decided to take the next, necessary step to break her in. She was no longer cowering in a corner but rather sitting on her mattress without any specific emotion on her face.

When I came to a halt right next to my slave, I put on a fake revolted facial expression and proclaimed: “God, you reek, slave. You’ve only been here for two days and already stink this whole place up! We gotta do something about that…”

Emily’s eyes closed in shame. Given her absolute beauty, she must’ve always been someone who cared about her physidal apperance, just like I was. But unlike me, she didn’t have access to any bathroom items, such as deodorants or cleaning utensils, anymore.

Although she didn’t smell nearly as bad as I had made it seem, I wanted her to be as cooperative as possible in this next stage.

I shortly left the room to take hold of the garden hose I’d previously prepared for this very purpose. As I returned, I caught a quick glimpse of my slave smelling her own armpits. My words were taking effect. Funny how anxiety works, even in the scenario she now lived through.

“Move to the other side, slave”, I commanded. Upon seeing me with the hose, Emily knew what was about to happen. Not wanting to anger me though, she did as I said and soon found herself standing about 10 feet in front of me.

From my pocket, I extracted a small 2 in 1 shampoo bottle and threw it to her feet.

“Make sure to clean yourself thoroughly and get rid of all that messy sweat”, I said, further humiliating my slave.

The moment she took hold of the cheap item, I started to spray liters of cold, high pressured water at her body.

Shocked by this sudden, unexpected and freezing sensation, Emily tried to dodge the stream, only to be halted by my harsh command: “Stay still and get going, slave. I can do this all day if necessary.”

Visibly shaking, my slave squeezed some of the shampoo onto her opened hand and started to wash her tangled, messy hair.

With a slight smirk on my face, I tried to imagine Emily’s last cleaning ritual as a free woman.

A relaxing bubble bath.

Warm, cozy water.

An expensive shampoo, bodywash and conditioner.

A big fall from grace, I thought to myself, as I looked at the shivering, collared woman in front of me. Fortunately, the electronic device around her neck was fully waterproof, which made it wearable 24/7.

“Turn around, bend over and spread your cheeks”, I instructed. Slightly hesitant, Emily did as she was told and was now presenting her most vulnerable parts for inspection.

As I stepped closer, decreasing the distance between my slavegirl and I, Emily’s pussy and asshole were hit with increasingly harsh levels of water pressure.

When I came to a stop right behind her, the urge of fucking her was stronger than ever. Here she was, basically offering herself up, giving me unrestricted access to two of her holes. I needed to stay strong though, I thought to myself, as I spent the next few seconds basically pressure washing Emily’s pussy until I felt like it was squeaky clean.

When I finally stopped the hose, she was a complete mess. But at least a clean mess, I figured.

As she dried her beautiful body and hair with a towel, I noticed the sound of her teeth chattering. Although amusing at first, I didn’t want my slave to get sick, which is why I had opted to let her use my blow dryer.

Emily understandably took her sweet time, enjoying every single second of warmth on her skin. I decided to let her take as long as she wanted to savor this comfort, knowing what kind of day my little slave still had ahead.

She seemed appreciative when she finally handed me the hair drier back.

Leaving her alone in the cell for a minute, I went upstairs to get a small pink box. Upon re-entering, I walked straight towards my girl, handed her the package and explained: “We’ve got a date in about an hour. Make sure to pretty yourself up.”

Slightly concerned about the word “date”, my slave watched me turn around and head back to the door, before stopping me in my tracks: “S..Sir..?”, she asked nervously.

Although I mentally preapred myself to hear more begging and pleading from Emily’s mouth, I was willing to hear her out: “Yes?”

To my surprise, the anticipated negotiation for her release didn’t come. Instead, the reason for her approach had been caused by a physical need torturing her body.

“Can…umm…may I please use the toilet, sir?”, she requested, her eyes shamefully cast downwards.

I could’ve kissed her right there. My slave hadn’t even been here for three days and already made a clear effort of following the rules.

Whenever I pictured this first week in my head, I imagined way bigger protests from my unwilling house guest. Although Emily had a few minor slip-ups during her stay so far, it was nowhere near the levels I would’ve expected. The fear of high voltage shocks must’ve had a bigger impact than I thought.

I’ll have to admit that her question totally caught me off guard. How could I forget? It’s been two days and my slave hadn’t used the toilet a single time. Given the degrading nature of her new W.C though, I figured she must’ve held it for as long as she could.

“Yes you may, slave.”

Grateful, Emily thanked me for my permission before rushing to the metal bucket located in the corner of the room.

When she arrived, she turned back towards me, waiting for my departure. When I didn’t leave and instead just looked at her, Emily’s heart sank. I wanted to see her first bucket adventure with my own eyes, as it would act as a great way of solidifying her new social status.

Defeated and unable to bear the discomfort in her bladder any longer, my slave moved into a squatting position. The pressure was so immense that no amount of embarrassment could’ve held back the strong stream which now flowed from her pussy.

“I want you to look at me”, I commanded.

When our eyes met, I looked into a face filled with shame, relieve, humiliation and anger, as the sound of pee hitting the metal surface filled the room.

I’d never been someone with any type of piss fetish. Even though I didn’t have any specific issue with the concept, it just didn’t do anything for me. But this raw, almost animalistic moment was intense. It was a slavegirl fulfilling her natural needs in front of her owner.

When she finished, I’d let Emily use some toilet paper and instructed her to hand me the bucket in order to clean it out. Just because she lived in an underground cell, didn’t mean we had to give up on any kind of hygiene.

As I left, I pointed to the pink box on the ground, reminding my slave of the task at hand, before closing the heavy door once again.

I decided to watch my slave’s unboxing of her “present” on the living room monitor.

As she opened the lid, she found a small collection of make up utensils, black thigh highs, black panties and an equally dark bra.

Although she most definitely didn’t want to “pretty herself up” for whatever was about to come, she welcomed the new set of underwear, as she’d finally be able to cover her privates again.

I found her to be more reluctant when it came to the stockings, as she might have been worried about the sexual nature of this particular piece of clothing. Nonetheless, she eventually wore hear full outfit and looked absolutely stunning.

My wrong estimation of her breast size only ended up making her even hotter, as her large boobs pressed themselves out from each side of the undersized bra.

The application of makeup proved to be quite challenging with the small hand mirror from the box. A natural beauty like Emily wouldn’t need many enhancements though. Her little routine didn’t even last five minutes.

It was about time to get busy myself, I thought. Even though I could’ve “taken” my slave wearing any clothing I wanted, I somehow still intended to look nice for our first time.

A suit would’ve been way too formal and awkward, which is why I eventually opted for dark jeans and desert shoes, combined with an elegant grey polo shirt.

These last few days had been very stressful and tiring. Training a slave includes a lot of responsibility and patience. It’s important to flip the right switches and press the right buttons at the right time, in order to get a satisfying result.

And now, it was time to claim my prize.

to be continued.