When the Mistress Became Merchandise

The month that followed Brenda and Damián’s final break had the texture of an unreal calm, a peace so thick and artificial it seemed to hover over the hacienda like a dense fog. Selena decided to remove the shackles. They were no longer necessary. The real prison had never been made of steel or knots: now it was absolute dependence, a psychological cage where the bars were gratitude and the terror of abandonment.

Under the golden light of the mornings, Selena began a ritual of care that ended up dismantling the last remnants of her slaves’ will. With almost maternal patience, she would seat them on silk rugs and, with fine gauze and warm water, clean the marks the whip had left. She applied scented creams to Brenda’s pale skin and to Damián’s furrowed back, massaging the flesh with a softness that was almost insulting. For the two young people, feeling their mistress’s hands healing the same wounds she had opened in them was a mystical experience: Selena had become the source of pain and, at the same time, the only possible relief.

Mealtime became her favorite entertainment. She drank her coffee by the window while watching her two dogs wait in front of the plastic bowls set on the kitchen floor. She did not allow them to use their hands. She forced them to remain on all fours until she gave the signal with a snap of her fingers. Watching athletic Brenda and muscular Damián bury their faces in the food, licking the rims with animal efficiency, brought a low, satisfied laugh to her lips. Sometimes, when the mood took her, she would open her black robe, baring her shaved cunt, and order them to lick there before the meal. Brenda would crawl over first, thrusting her tongue between the wet lips of her Mistress’s sex, sucking the clit with the desperation of a bitch who knows that taste is the only reward left to her. Damián waited his turn with his cock trapped inside the metal belt, throbbing with impossible desire, and when his moment came he buried his tongue in the same cunt where his companion had just been working, savoring the mix of saliva and slick with religious devotion. Selena came quickly, in silence, squeezing her thighs against whichever face was between them, and after her orgasm she would send them back to their bowls with a gentle kick from her bare foot.

Damián followed her from room to room with the instinctive loyalty of a hunting dog. He accepted the permanent confinement of the metal chastity belt as if it were part of his own body. The pain of the restraint was a constant reminder that his sex belonged to her and no one else. When Selena, on a whim, decided to unlock him and let his cock come free — always swollen, always red from so much restraint — Damián cried with gratitude. She made him masturbate in front of Brenda without allowing him to come, holding his cock in his trembling fist while his kneeling companion had to describe aloud how pathetic he looked. “Look at yourself, Damián, look at you manhandling your cock like a hungry pig, and you’re not going to come because the Mistress didn’t give you permission,” Brenda whispered with her mouth a few inches from the glans, without touching it, while he moaned and clenched his teeth to keep from ejaculating. When he could not bear it any longer, Selena would close the belt back over the still-hard shaft, and the metal would bite into the inflamed flesh with a torture he accepted as a privilege.

Brenda, by contrast, had turned her former fire into a current of pathological worship. Her blue eyes, once defiant, now sought Selena out with desperate mendicancy. She had become expert at anticipating her wishes, kneeling with a technical elegance that bordered on the religious. She opened the Mistress’s legs at any time of day and ate her cunt until she made her come three, four times in a row, her tongue trained to draw precise circles over the swollen clit and then move down to the hole to penetrate her with the rigid tip. When Selena was in the mood, she would fit a thick black dildo into Brenda’s ass while the girl kept sucking her cunt, and the scene would continue until the slave’s cheeks were soaked with slick, saliva, and her own tears of pleasure. “Good bitch,” Selena would say, pulling her blonde hair and forcing her to lift her face so she could see it shining with wetness. “Suck your lips. Don’t waste a drop.” Brenda obeyed with an idiotic smile, licking her mouth as if it were the greatest honor in the world.

Although the ropes and shackles were now stored away in the wardrobe, freedom remained a forbidden frontier. Every night, at sunset, Selena carried out a ritual that had become sacred. With a gesture of her hand she directed her two pets toward the imposing steel cage in the corner of the bedroom. Watching them curl up against each other, intertwining naked legs and arms to share warmth, gave her a deep satisfaction. In that amalgam of pale skin and black leather collars, she saw the perfection of her work. Sometimes, before closing the door, she ordered them to touch each other. Brenda licked Damián’s nipples and sucked his fingers while he, with the metal belt preventing any functional erection, buried his tongue between her buttocks and bit her ass until it bore red marks. Selena watched from outside, a glass of wine in hand, and when she grew bored she slammed the gate shut and left them embraced in their mutual misery.

***

Behind that façade of maternal care beat the icy heart of a businesswoman. Selena knew emotional attachment was poison. To her, Brenda and Damián were not people: they were inventory pieces she had shaped with pain and patience until they became the most coveted merchandise in the catalog. A pair like that —young, intact on the outside, with spirits so fragmented they would thank whoever put the next chain on them— was an absolute rarity in black market circles.

It’s a shame to see them go, she thought in front of the mirror, with the shallow melancholy of someone saying goodbye to a unique piece to make room for the next.

Dawn found her stretching beneath the silk sheets. She walked to the mahogany desk wrapped in a black robe that floated behind her like a liquid shadow and dialed the number she used only for discreet matters. On the first ring, Vicente’s voice flooded the receiver: a glacial sound, without a single trace of humanity, a vibration that seemed to drag the weight of a thousand sins.

“Send a truck to the hacienda,” she ordered as the aroma of freshly ground coffee began to fill the air. “I’ve got new merchandise.”

There was a heavy silence on the other end. Then the reply cut the air like a knife: the transport would arrive in two hours, and he himself would come in person. He had matters of greater importance to handle. Selena nodded, her eyes fixed on the steam rising from the cup. Vicente did not travel for trifles.

“I’ll be waiting,” she replied, and hung up.

Half a million dollars for the pair. She had already done the math several times. An amount that would allow her to expand the empire without owing society anything.

***

When she returned to the bedroom, she found Brenda and Damián kneeling in the center of the cage, in sepulchral silence. Selena approached slowly, savoring the stillness. She inserted the key into the lock, clipped the straps to their collars, and with a slight tug ordered them to lower themselves. The two dropped onto all fours and obediently crawled after her steps. The path to the barn, once a journey of terror, they covered with hypnotic obedience.

The air inside the stable felt heavy. In the center, two reinforced steel cages waited for them, open, small, and restrictive.

“Both of you inside,” Selena ordered in a frosty voice.

Without hesitation, each entered the confinement assigned to them. She began with Damián. With surgical efficiency she hooked the collar to the lower base, forcing him to keep his head a few inches from the floor in a posture of absolute humiliation. She cuffed his hands behind his back and attached the shackles with a short chain to the rear bars. Not satisfied with that, she inserted a steel tube between his back and elbows, forcing the spine into a curve that eliminated any possibility of movement. She spread his legs toward the side bars and tied them with nylon straps. Damián offered no resistance. When he saw her bring the rubber dildo gag, he opened his mouth on his own initiative.

Coming home. That was what he felt as the cold metal and leather tightened against his skin. The pain of the forced posture anchored him to the past, to the exact instant Selena had captured him and his previous world had shattered. What had then been terror now seeped through his mind like the happiest moment of his life.

Selena turned to Brenda and repeated the procedure with cold precision: neck pressed to the floor, arms locked by the steel tube, the dildo gag, legs spread and anchored to the bars. For her she only fitted the anal dildo, a thick cylinder of black silicone that sank into her tight ass with a wet snap. Brenda moaned behind the gag, feeling the device open her sphincter all the way. She left the vagina exposed but untouched for the buyer, the pink lips gleaming with wetness because her own filled ass had her aroused despite herself. Selena gave her cunt a hard slap, marking it like someone sealing a crate of goods.

She shut the upper lids with a metallic clatter and planted herself in front of the two cages with a smile thick with pity.

“Trash…” she said at last, letting out a brief laugh. “It was fun, Damián, watching you go from arrogant misogynist to a bitch who can’t live without my orders. And you, Brenda… it was an absolute pleasure breaking you. It fills me with pride to finally see you understand where you belong.”

Brenda tried to return a clumsy smile behind the gag. In her delirium she believed her place was there, at her Mistress’s feet, forever. But the next words fell like acid.

“Now that you’re perfectly trained, I’m going to sell you. Be happy in your new homes. They’re going to pay me a fortune for you,” Selena burst out laughing. “Almost half a million. I never imagined two pieces of meat could be worth so much.”

The shock was devastating. The two bodies writhed inside the cages with animal desperation. It was not fear of the buyer: it was the absolute terror of being torn away from the woman who had become their only god. Brenda cried behind the gag with convulsions running the length of her spine, and the movement made the anal dildo twitch inside her, sending involuntary waves of pleasure mingled with anguish through her. Damián searched his Mistress’s face, begging for one last sign, one forgiveness, a correction to this monstrous mistake. His caged cock tried to harden against the metal and dragged tears of pain from him with each pulse.

***

The roar of an engine broke the atmosphere. A black pickup with tinted windows stopped in front of the barn, kicking up a cloud of dust. Vicente stepped out with a presence that chilled the air. He was six foot three, solid-bodied, wearing a black suit of impeccable cut and a white shirt with the top button undone. A thick beard framed his iron jaw, and his dark hair, slicked back, gave him an air of ancient authority. But most unsettling was his gaze: two empty black eyes that appraised Selena the way a butcher appraises the quality of meat.

His three companions —men with mechanical movements— began loading the cages into the back of the pickup. Damián was first. Inside the confinement he thrashed with a desperation bordering on madness, trying to force out any sound that might stop the transfer. The gag turned his pleas into muffled moans. He searched Selena’s face one last time. She ignored him with absolute contempt.

Then it was Brenda’s turn. She was not only struggling: her soul was being physically torn apart. She cried with such intensity that her whole body shook. In her broken mind, being ripped from Selena’s presence was a torture greater than any whipping she had taken in six months.

“They’re too noisy,” Vicente commented in a deep, almost bored voice.

Selena, with a self-satisfied smile, pulled a small remote control from her pocket and pressed a button. Two electric shocks cracked against Brenda and Damián’s necks. Their bodies arched violently before collapsing, gasping.

“This will keep them under control,” she said, handing Vicente the controls with a victorious gesture. “They’re yours.”

Vicente put the remotes away and, with glacial calm, opened a heavy leather briefcase.

“Good. Time for payment.”

Selena licked her lips. But when she lifted her gaze, the world stopped. Inside the briefcase there were no bundles of bills, but an object of black leather and gleaming metal: an electric collar identical to the ones her slaves wore.

“What kind of joke is this, Vicente?” she cried, stepping back for the first time in years.

The answer was not verbal. In a coordinated motion, his companions grabbed her arms. Selena screamed when they forced her to kneel on the rough gravel. It was the position she herself had imposed on others dozens of times, and now she felt it against her kneecaps with unbearable clarity.

“Let me go, idiots!” she shrieked, struggling with panicked strength. “You don’t know who I am! I’m an important partner at the table! You’ll pay for this with your lives!”

Vicente leaned over her, holding the collar with terrifying calm.

“Selena, you are nobody now,” he pronounced as he fastened the leather around her neck. “This kidnapping drew too much attention. The police are sniffing around. That Brenda you captured turns out to have an organization of women behind her more powerful than you investigated. You brought the spotlight onto all of us.”

The click of the lock closing at her throat was the sound of the end of her former existence.

“The society thought about getting rid of you for good,” he continued, ignoring her screams, “but you know we don’t like wasting resources. What better punishment than seeing the great dominatrix auctioned off in the black market?”

“You’re an idiot! When I get loose you’ll see what—”

A brutal blow to the stomach cut her off and left her doubled over on the dirt. Without giving her time to recover, she was stripped with systematic violence. Her underwear was cut away with a single slash of scissors, leaving her as vulnerable as the victims she had boasted of breaking. Her tits were bared, nipples bristling with pure terror, her shaved cunt exposed to the gaze of the four men surrounding her. One of the companions ran two fingers between the lips of her sex with clinical brutality, testing the elasticity of the flesh. “She’s tight,” he muttered. Another squeezed a breast until she screamed over the blow still echoing in her stomach. They forced her into a cage identical to her slaves’.

Vicente showed no mercy. He hooked the collar to the base of the cage, cuffed her hands behind her back, and shoved a dildo gag into her mouth so long she felt the rubber brush the base of her throat. Selena retched, tears filled her eyes, and saliva began to run from the corner of her mouth without her being able to do anything to stop it. To seal her fate, he took a thick black silicone dildo, spat on it contemptuously, and shoved it hard into her cunt all the way in. Selena howled against the gag as she felt the device opening her up all at once, without preparation, with the brutality of a surgical rape. Then Vicente pried her asscheeks apart with cold hands and rammed another dildo, this one thinner but rougher, into her asshole. The sphincter resisted at first, closed like a virgin’s, but he pushed with sadistic patience until the muscle gave way and the device sat fully seated to the base. Leather straps crossed over her groin and beneath her ass, securing both dildos inside with not the slightest chance of expulsion. When she began thrashing, writhing from the double invasion, Vicente hit the control and an electric shock made her collapse in silence, her muscles contracting around the two plastic shafts that now belonged to the hole.

“Be quiet. Now you’re just another slave. The sooner you understand that, the better.”

The pain was not only physical. It was a total demolition of her reality. While spasms shook her body, Selena felt the crystal pedestal on which she had built her life shattering to pieces. She had believed her social standing, prestige, and elegance protected her from any consequence, that the table protected her. Now she understood with icy horror that her importance had always been an illusion. Her cunt throbbed around the dildo, her ass burned, her nipples had gone hard against the cold air of the barn, and that betrayal of her own body was worse than any blow.

***

They opened the truck and Selena’s cage was slid in beside those of her former victims. Brenda and Damián lifted their heads inside their own confinements. Seeing their Mistress in the same condition of absolute degradation, naked, the dildos gleaming between her spread legs and saliva dripping from the gag, a sick, twisted smile appeared on their faces behind the mouthpieces. If fate was taking them to hell, at least the goddess they worshiped would go with them.

Before closing the tailgate, Vicente pulled a second controller from his coat. With cruel slowness, he pressed the button activating the devices Selena had lodged inside her. The dildos began to vibrate with frantic violence, vaginal and anal at the same time, each of them drilling her internal walls with industrial force. Selena’s body arched against the cage’s cold metal, her nipples rubbing against the bars until they turned red.

At first she felt only searing pain and a despair that made her want to tear off her own skin. But the physical punishment soon turned into something far more humiliating: an arousal her mind hated but her body embraced. Her clit, exposed and receiving no direct attention, began to swell under the simple effect of the vibration transmitted through her cunt. She felt juices begin to stream down the insides of her thighs, soaking the leather straps, marking her in front of her captors as a bitch in heat. Behind the gag, cries of rage turned into involuntary moans. The dildo in her throat choked every attempt at protest, and saliva mixed with tears dripped onto her naked tits. The vibrators working at maximum power were demolishing her last defense, pushing her toward an orgasm she did not want but her nerves were demanding with screams. She felt the tremor rise from her thighs to her belly, the unmistakable sign of imminent climax, her cunt tightening around the dildo with a force she could not control.

With her vision blurred, she opened her eyes and found herself looking into the gaze of those who were now her companions in misfortune. Brenda was crying, but in her blue eyes shone a vengeful, twisted joy. Seeing her former owner reduced to the same level of degradation, about to be forced to come in front of everyone, gave her a sick peace. Damián, trapped in his own submission, watched her with the same blind worship as ever, unable to accept that the deity he served had just fallen from the altar; and yet his caged cock pulsed with brutal desire at the sight of his Mistress’s cunt opened and dripping around the black silicone.

Just when the forced pleasure was about to break her last defense, when she already felt the orgasm climbing up her back like an electric shock, Vicente let go of the button. The vibrations died abruptly, leaving her in an agonizing, gasping void, her cunt throbbing around the motionless dildo, denying her the climax at the very last instant. Selena howled against the gag, a cry of pure frustration that scraped her throat raw. He leaned toward the bars with a smile of pure malice carved into his iron face.

“Now you know your body doesn’t belong to you,” he pronounced, with a coldness that froze her blood. “What was it you used to say? Ah, yes… now you know exactly what slavery tastes like.”

Without saying more, he closed the tailgate. Selena was left in darkness, trapped between hatred for her captor and the betrayal of her own senses, with the dildos still embedded in her two holes and her clit throbbing with pure unsatisfied desire. The three prisoners twisted in their cages while the engine started and the vehicle set off toward an unknown destination. There went three souls devoured by their own vices: the misogynist who sought power and found slavery, the friend who out of loyalty fell into an abyss of submission, and the sadist who ended up chewed up by the very system of terror she had helped perfect.

The hunter had become prey, and the journey toward the new lives had only just begun.