The Process Pt 2

Author: drool
Title: The Process Pt 2
Date: 14 February 2009

The high sheen of the knee high black leather boots gleamed in the sterile light. There was a faint crunch of grit as the two inch heel turned sharply on the marble office floor. A dozen silver rings clattered against one another as fingers rapidly waved rapidly back and forth. Their owner lowered himself into a smoothly curved chair, smiling. ‘So glad you could make it.’ The German accent spoke leisurely. From behind the dark glasses, his crystal blue eyes glittered coldly. The leather trim on his black suit jacket creaked softly with each movement, drowned out but the louder, more noticeable aching of the leather jeans he wore, crowned above his crotch by a massive silver belt buckle. ‘So tell me,’ The man in black asked, ‘What is your real name?’

‘Smith,’ The other man replied. ‘Smith Green.’ He was tall, at least six feet four, and a mountain of a man, built heavily, with cropped dark hair and designer stubble frosting his strong masculine jawline. Smith wore dark blue jeans jeans, a heavy silver chain slung along his hip. His thick, muscular legs flexed against the tight denim that covered them, as his barrel chest and strong pecs twitched beneath the figure hugging white t-shirt he hag squeezed himself into. The black leather biker jacket completed the James Dean on steroids look.

‘A pleasure to finally meet you Smith.’ The Man In Black replied, the chunky silver rings the encrusted his fingers like armour rattling loudly. ‘You have the rest of my money I presume? The item is inside the facility and has been treated for processing.’

‘Of course.’ Smith replied, heaving a dull grey Samsonite onto the dark wood table The Man In Black sat at. He opened it, a soft spearmint green reflection faintly shining out. There were thousands of dollars inside. ‘It’s all there. You can count it if you want.’

‘No, it’s alright. I don’t think you’d be foolish enough to try and cheat me, knowing what I can do.’ He gestured to the bank of monitors across from his desk embedded into the wall. Smith’s eyes followed the hand, fixing on the multitude of screens. They all showed the same room from a dozen different angles. Some in night vision, some in standard. In the centre of each of them was the same thing; a glossy black rubber figure, huddled silently on the floor, a heavy steel chain running from the thick rubber collar round its neck into the concrete ground. ‘We have it on a short chain at the moment, for its early training. It will be at least a month before it has earned the ability to stand.’ Smith’s eyes lit up, his mouth salivating at the image of his prize on the screen before him.

‘How long have you had him now?’ He asked.

‘It, Mr Green, it.’ The Man In Black Corrected. ‘The human days it once knew are over.’ He paused, sipping from a glass of Pepsi on his desk. ‘It’s been in there for 9 days now. The first two were spent unconscious, to ensure that the suit fitted properly to its body. After a brief ten minutes of activity when I revealed some cryptic clues of what was happening to it last week, it was blacked out again for another two days, to insure the implants had taken. Everything is working perfectly fine now though. It has been alone in there for five days. It wakes up, subjected to loud, thudding music with some subliminal messaging embedded into it at low frequencies, and then at the end of the training period the music is changed for a carrier signal which renders it unconscious again. At the moment it wakes and sleeps according to my wises. Presently it has spent 36 hours without rest. Food and liquid is slid into the unit which it sucks up through the tube in its muzzle. Aside from that it receives no outside stimulus. The intention is to starve it of any human interaction. Let its mind work overtime trying to figure out what is happening, let it question everything, all while it is unwittingly giving in more and more to the constant suggestions playing into its ears. I will speak to it again in around two weeks. By that point a lot of its resolve will have been broken, even though it won’t have realised it. It is then I will reveal exactly what is happening.’

‘How’s it taking it?’ Green replied.

‘Physically it has taken to the suit very well. It is sweating profusely, as you requested, and seems to be, while mentally struggling against it, physically enjoying it. It penis is constantly straining against the chastity device we have installed. Brainwave activity indicates that it is both excited, frustrated and terrified by its situation, and indicates a high level of sexual desire.’

‘How will that be dealt with?’

‘When it is knocked out so that its suit can be cleaned and its skin maintained – that will usually be once a month or so - it will be milked via its prostate.’

‘Excellent.’

‘Yes. We are going to have fun with this one, I can tell. Several times every session it starts thrashing frantically against its bonds, screaming into its muzzle until exhausted. If you wish we could have its vocal chords dealt with?’

‘No.’ Smith replied malevolently. ‘I want to hear it scream.’

‘A man after my own heart.’ The Man In Black agreed. ‘Yes, its brainwave activity shows a high level of willpower, and a high level of drive. This will not, of course, pose a problem, it will merely make the experience all the more satisfying for both us and yourself. I have not yet revealed to it the true state of its modifications, but suffice to say, it will be horrified to learn that its nipples aren’t the only things that I will be able to light up with electricity. Once training really begins, it will curse the day it ever even had the thought of rubber slavery. It will regret ever having spoken to you.’

‘I told it I could make it disappear like it fantasised. I told it I could make it a reality. As it continued chatting, I realised that the most likely scenario was that this was a deep fantasy, but nothing more. Hacking its computer was the first step. Once inside, it was easy to ensure that the oh so tantalising wank fantasy it had toyed with would become a reality that I – and I alone – would enjoy.’

The Man In Black smiled. ‘A common story. You real masters really are good at getting what you want, aren’t you?’

‘As I told it at the time; if you’re just fucking around, then you’re fucking with the wrong bull.’

‘A good point well made. Speaking of which, how would you like a bull ring in its nose? I think it might suit.’

‘I think you’re right.’ Smith replied, staring longingly at the rubber object that was fighting against its chain on the screen.

‘Resisting again I see.’ The Man In Black observed. ‘Don’t worry, that will be ironed out in a few weeks. For now, I will let it have its petty privileges.’ He rose from his desk ushering Smith from his office. ‘I’ll get onto my jewellers about making a bull ring for it. The experience of having it installed should cool it down a bit. But our time is over, I have other subject to attend to. Feel free to visit again. Though you will of course be sent footage of the training as it progresses.’

The two men walked from the room, the leather on their bodies creaking softly, the metallic gauntlets of rings on the hands of The Man In Black clinking loudly as they walked.

Inside the cell he continued to scream into his muzzle. He was so tired. So exhausted. The aural abuse would not stop, any kind of rest was impossible. Little did he know that this was nothing compared to the hell he would be forced to endure in the coming months. The Man In Black was not even getting started…