Story: My fully exploited life part 3

Part 2

Then Master let me rest for one week and made me take special care to my health and looks. He had left a specific schedule when to do what, while he was away. At the end of the week Master made me dress and drove me to a Studio. There we met a friend of his, a porn producer that I hadn't met before. I stood at their side while they talked. Soon the producer groped and investigated me. "Strip" my master ordered. The producer continued. Master also let me "Tease" and "Dance". From what I figured out with my dumb mind weeks later, but mainly due to the things happening, Master had given me to that producer to become a special porn star, not only performing the most filthy and humiliating scenes in a high frequency, but also being a whore for any fans who wanted to fuck me for real and highly pay for it. It didn't take long for my porn career to lift off, as well as the queue of fans enlisting to abuse me. My salary and fuck prices rose into the skies, but it all went to my producer and most of all to my Master. He frequently showed me how much I was making for him, and partly how he wasted it, even gifted some of it to good causes, poor girls or plain strangers, telling me all about it in the hour of my full awareness and intelligence.

Years passed by. While I had my intelligence back Master told me it was my thirtieth birthday. Two barely legal, naked girls kneeling at his sides, behaving and looking at him like trained, lovely puppy dogs. He told me how much money I had earned for him. If he hadn't been before, he now definitely was a three-digit multi-millionaire, while I still was his property without rights. I could have probably earned even more for him, but because my porn and income star was in decline he declared the end of my porn career. "Better to stop when it is the best, so people will remember you in my best shape, slave", he expressed his opinion. The years didn't really show yet, but it wasn't long until they would. I could feel my body being worn out. He told me it was time for my new purpose. Master already had enough new toy girl slaves to always care for his service needs since years.

First I was pretty excited about all the attention Master gave me. He started to talk a lot with me and left me with my full brain capacity on for days. He told me how happy he had been the past years, especially thinking how I was humiliated and exploited as a sex toy, while he earned all the money without even visiting me. Master bragged about how he had spent large amounts of money on parties, hookers, orgies and slave girls. He had been quite generous with his money since it flowed in so vastly. He even calculated some of his more expensive acquisitions into days and weeks of my labor. Particularly he told me about the longest session of painful service I had endured for nine full days, where I was on the brink of physical and mental collapse, and how he had spent that money for one car in the blink of an eye, not bargaining but paying the saleswoman a voluntary nice bonus for being so nice. "Self-pity", he triggered me, and "Shame", and then grinned right into my face. I really felt angry and sad, but on the other hand I was so happy seeing his pleasure from my suffering.

Then Master told me how he was curious about having a pain slut at his disposal, someone to torture and inflict most extreme pain on, just for his pleasure. It was something he hadn't tried yet, though he had already enjoyed to cause some misery to me and all his other slave girls so far. "You are the perfect fit for that, slave, because I know how you hate pain yourself, and only endure it for me." The words made me fear, but his smile warmed my heart. I would endure anything for him, in fact I longed for him abusing me even more than he had already done in the past years. "Now that your body isn't needed for earning money anymore, slave, I will permanently ruin it in ways you hadn't imagined. Slowly and step-wise, so the album I will still show you gets filled, and that it causes you physical and emotional pain. I am pretty sure I will enjoy this as much as you won't. But first we will get rid of any hair that is left on your body, especially on your head."

The next day Master started the series of operations. He injected a drug that heightened my senses and prevented me to get numb or unconscious while totally immobilizing me. This way I lay on the table at his disposal, my body fixed so I wouldn't roll or move by his force. He was taking his time and doing this all on his own. A monitor helped him screened the stability of my body functions, another monitor showed my brain activity. Since I was unable to move my head or even close my eyes, I watched a big screen he had placed on the ceiling above me, which showed the monitors, several live cameras in the room as well as pictures and videos of my former self mixed with the states between and my plenty of porn scenes. Master always used this setup, except for some operations were he tested complete deprivation

The pain was incredible, worse than anything I had experienced and could imagine. But I couldn't cry nor move, not even have tears. Only the brain activity monitor and Master's synchronized actions with my pain proved that this was me. At the very peaks he made a break, looked at me and the monitor, and smiled broadly. Sometimes he even chuckled, before he continued. In the first sessions he widely opened my torso and pelvis. With every operation he cut something of my inner organs here and there, just a little, and branded the wound. He also installed some electric torture devices right at the nerves. Later during the still painful healing breaks Master would sometimes visit me just to shock me at his pleasure, though that was just a mild reminder of the pain being operated and physically reduced piece by piece. He also made a vast amount of pictures of all the scars he left on me. It hurt me so much, but it did make him happy. In the next sessions he started to break bones, one by one. Just as an addition. Because mainly Master then started to reduce my limbs, very step-wise, cutting away very small pieces of flesh, until my body didn't have left any trace of arms or legs. I was helpless and had to be cared and fed by his slave girls. They were dressed in sexy nurse outfits, barely covering anything. Sometimes Master pleased himself on him right in my conscious presence while he ran shock programs on me. I was so happy for him.

Next was the cut of my breasts, but completely this time. I was left with an ugly, scarred flat torso. But that wasn't enough for him, besides all the pain. He also cut away my nose and ears piece by piece, as well as my lips. I noticed he was inexperienced with my interior mouth, but also eager to try and learn, as he removed my teeth one by one over a longer period of time, and then start to cut the naked teeth ridge.

At the end of the operation series, Master told me about a special device while installing it into my torso. It dealt with the restrictions of my human physiology on how much waste I could process. Fitted with this new device I was able to consume any amount of liquid manure I could swallow for my whole life. He also expanded my respiratory ducts, so that I could breath independently from my ingestion. And he completely removed my voice.

Totally disabled Master now used his wealth to install me into different places of public toilets. First I was hidden beneath a men's bathroom. Master said the trigger word "Gulp" and then left me. After reducing the percentage of clear water due to the flushes, all waste was redirected to a tube into my mouth. Sensors and programs regulated that I only got as much as I could swallow. Master had made clear to me, that I wasn't worthy enough for his waste or the one of his slave girls. He left me with my whole intelligence and ordered me to count the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years, before he switched on the picture cycle on my eye mounted screens - my whole album, porn movies, live records from the bath room and me in my hiding place, but also pictures of him enjoying a luxury life, playing and fucking around with anything he wanted, smiling, laughing. Laughing at the camera, laughing at me. Jokes on my costs.

The taste was awful. The time was horrible. I never got used to it. Obeying his command of counting the time made it even worse. I was aware of every second of this horror. I was his toilet slave, not even able to get his pee and scat. He tried me on different men's bathrooms, then women's bathrooms, even boys' and girls' ones, and once even a pig stable. For a peak he connected me to the toilets of the biggest open air music festival. I wondered how I managed to get along with all the masses. I was gulping day and night. Surprisingly a highlight for me was being directly fed in the open view of my customers, which was on a kinky party in a large market hall. Most people were fetishly dressed and looking at me in curiosity, awe, pity or disgust. But nobody cared for me other than to use me as toilet and watching me like an object in a museum. They shot pictures and videos, though I doubt anybody would ever acknowledge be as anything I had once been, neither the former beautiful student, nor the bimbo or the porn star and fucktoy.

Part 4