{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"fcd081a8-adc4-4288-bac5-44268ce5c270","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2023-02-18T04:22:43.17Z","title":"A Thing Returns To Its Proper Place","slug":"a-thing-returns-to-its-proper-place","shortId":"zJfP7Ht4","authorNote":"This story is really rough. Spoiler alert but you need to know. There are two sadistic, fairly graphic murders, and at the end of the story there is an IMPLIED FORCED CLITORECTEMY ON A LIVE, AWAKE PERSON. Please read with caution. This is close to some Marquis de Sade shit. Also, a bunch of philosophy is expressed in this story about people who are really \"things.\" This is fiction! This is not a philosophy I endorse! I am viscerally against such a philosophy in fact.","disclaimer":"All characters are over eighteen. This story is and must remain purely fantasy. If you might have any inclination that it needn't be purely fantasy, stop reading now. Please do not copy.","type":"Short","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"A girl was kidnapped, held for a long time, and escaped. But she finally realizes where she belongs. WARNING: This story is really rough. There are two graphic sadistic murders and an implied forced clitorectemy. Please do not read if this might cause you distress.","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"a265f99e-2ad9-4b5e-83a0-ca74f9749c4e","title":null,"summary":"A Thing Returns To Its Proper Place---There is a cozy little home sitting on a large property, far\na","wordCount":7105,"readTime":36,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter 1","content":"

A Thing Returns To Its Proper Place

---

There is a cozy little home sitting on a large property, far\naway from any eyes or ears. In front of that home is an old beat up car. A girl\nsits in the driver’s seat of that car, gazing meditatively at the snow falling\nall around her. Finally, she steps out of the drivers’ seat of the car. She\ncarefully undresses in the snow, until she is stripped bare. As she does so she\nneatly folds each item and places it in the seat of the car she just exited.\nOnce naked, she leans over, reaches into the passenger seat, and brings out a\nlong thin rod.

She walks, slowly, barefoot, through the snow, towards the\nfront door of the house. After each step she pauses, and breathes.

On reaching the front door, she lays the rod down in front\nof her. She squats down, places each of her knees on top of that rod, and stands\nerect on those knees, her feet extending behind her, occasionally touched by a\nsmall bit of snow that drifts onto the covered porch.

She reaches her hand forward toward the door, hesitates for\none moment, and finally knocks. She now slowly, conscientiously moves her hands\ninto position behind her head. She is standing on her knees, her knees on the\nrod pushing its way into her leg bones just below the kneecaps, her hands\ngrasped behind her head, her breasts thrust forward by her perfectly straight\nposture.

And now she waits.

---

After several minutes the door opens. The girl steadfastly\ngazes straight forward as the man who opens the door looks down at her,\nslightly shivering from the cold. He takes in her face, which despite the clear\ndiscomfort she must be feeling, is maintaining a blank, relaxed, unperturbed\ncountenance.

The man turns and calls out over his shoulder, “You were\nright,” he says. “It came back.”

He then shuts the door.

And she waits.

---

A long while later, she is struggling to maintain composure.\nHer knees remain implanted on the rod below, but her body is ever so slightly\nhunched over as she openly shivers, quiet hisses occasionally escaping from her\nlips, her elbows drooping just a little bit as her body screams that her arms\nshould be doing everything they can to cover her up, to preserve its warmth.

The door opens once more, and she can feel the warmth of the\ninside blow past her for a moment. Now it is a woman looking at her. The woman\naddresses the room behind her, “It’s still here.” She sounds annoyed.

The woman squats down in front of the girl, appraising her\nbody and its efforts, ignoring the possibility of eye contact. Finally the\nwoman reaches out. In her hand is a metal clip. She attaches this clip to one\nof the girl’s nipples. The girl is very careful to respond not at all. Then the\nwoman does the same to her other nipple, rises, turns, goes back into the house\nand closes the door. The girl resists every temptation to wince now at the\nsharp pains in her nipples. She doesn’t believe the man or the woman is\nwatching her, doesn’t pretend to herself that they would be that interested in\nher. She could momentarily react to the pain and no one would be the wiser. But\nshe is determined, not for their eyes, but to honor her own nature, to remain\nas impassive as she can.

She does find that tears have begun to trickle out of her\neyes. This is not due to any physical sensation caused by the nipple clamps or\nthe rod or the cold surrounding her body. She is crying, quietly, calmly, because\nwhen the woman reached out to place the clamps, she was implicitly indicating a\nkind of acceptance. The girl would not be ignored until she died on their\nporch. (And the girl would have waited forever until her death, had things gone\nthat way.) She knows now that she will at least, at the worst, be cruelly\nfucked with before the end. To that extent at least, the man and the woman are\nalso respecting the girl’s nature.

The girl has never felt such belonging, such understanding.

And she waits.

---

After another long while the man once again opens the door. Standing\nin the doorway he says, “The rod,” holding out his hand. The girl understands\nimmediately, and lifts her knees off the rod. The rush of blood causes a\nrenewed agony in her as she hands the rod over to him. But true to her nature\nshe simply continues resting on those knees, now on the bare freezing concrete\nof the porch.

The man steps out and circles around to the back of the girl.\nShe maintains her forward gaze as he surveys her. When the sharp cracking sound\naccompanied by the burning pain across her feet interrupts her concentration,\nshe grunts, and tears begin streaming down her face, but she does not cry out.

He lands a few more blows on her freezing body, moving\nupwards, hitting her legs, her buttocks, and her back. She sniffles sobs and\ncatches her cries in her throat as she unsteadily maintains he posture and\nforward gaze.

“Facing me,” he now says, and she rotates on her knees so\nthat she is now facing towards him.

He removes her clamps in a quick motion, filling those\nsensitive part of her body with burning blood. She hunches over several degrees\nbefore regaining control. He then hits her a few more times, on her breasts,\nher nipples, her tummy, her legs. By the end of it she is shuddering, but still\nroughly standing erect on her knees while constantly snorting and sniffling in\nher struggle not to cry out.

He walks back towards the door, and she closes her eyes\npreparing to wait again, but he says “On its knees and elbows, inside.”

She crouches down, supporting herself only on her knees and\nelbows, and crawls painfully fourlegged into the house.

“By the fire,” he says and she continues her slow four-leg\nwalk towards the fireplace. The woman is sitting on a couch in front of the\nfireplace, and he now takes a seat next to her. The girl is still on her elbows\nand knees, standing in front of the fireplace, making almost no sound now\nexcept for the occasional uncontrollable remaining sniffle. Every blow of the\ncane, both of her nipples, all of her freezing cold skin, cries out for her to\nrun, but she cannot run. Things cannot run.

That is her true nature. She is a thing. She has always\nknown this, and knows it now more than ever before.

The cries of her body are illusions.

---

The woman now says, “on the buttocks, the hands and feet\nclosest to the fire.” The girl moves away from the four-legged position she had\nadopted before, and now sits on the floor, her feet in front of her, her hands\non her feet, so that they receive warmth first, the rest of her body\nafterwards. She knows this is not for her sake. No action is for any thing’s\nsake. Rather, this is to keep her in working order.

The woman now says, “Words, about how it disappeared, and\nhow it came back tonight.”

The girl forms those words without moving from her position,\nfacing towards the fire while the couple sits behind her.

“It was stupid—” the girl begins, but things can’t be\nstupid. “Foolish—” she stumbles again.

“It thought—it acted like it thought—it acted like it\nthought it was a person. It had acted like a thing for so long when it was here.\nIt was a thing. But occasionally it thought…” The girl got into the\nhabit of believing she had thoughts while she was away. She closes her eyes,\ngathering herself.

She continues. “Something like a-a-a sound? Inside its…\nInside? Impacted it. And it acted like the sound was a memory of being a\nperson. It… it malfunctioned? And so… it acted like a thing, but… it was fake…\nuntil its owners thought it was safe to leave it outside for a while. It walked\naway into the forest and it… it got to the road before its owners could find it.”

The man interrupts softly, “We thought the police would surely\ncome here. We went to the safehouse, thought we may never come back here.”

“Yes…” the girl stutters. “It may have caused you a lot of… fear?”\nBut then she remembers, things cannot agree or sympathize.

“Indeed,” says the woman anyway. “But the police never came.”

“It acted like a person, flagging down a car. It had acted\nlike a thing for so long it still did not react to things like a person. So the\nman who picked it up saw a naked girl and picked her up. He asked her why she\nwas naked, because she was not acting like a scared or desperate person, she\nwas acting like… like a thing person. A person who is a thing. Because she was\na thing. She didn’t answer his question, but instead gave him an address… the\naddress of the people who she was now acting like had been her family once.”

The woman interrupts sharply, but with humor, “I think it’s\nstarting to call itself ‘she’”. The man laughs.

The girl stops for a moment. “It will say ‘she’ about the\npretend person it was acting like. And it will… it will never say ‘I’.” Her\nstomach churns and she feels sick at the very thought of the word.

“Clever thing,” says the woman, “it should use ‘she’ as\nlittle as possible though.”

The girl takes this on board. “When the man in the car asked\nit if it was available for sexual favors, it acted like a whore. It gave the\nman a blowjob while he drove, and he then pulled over into the woods and fucked\nits ass while it lay on the ground under him. It had laid on an antbed, and it\nwas bitten a lot of times before the man noticed. The man said something like ‘Why\ndidn’t you say something you crazy bitch?’, and the man laughed. Then he pulled\nit away from the antbed and finished fucking its ass. The man understood that it\nwas a thing, even though it was acting like it wanted to go home.

“After he had finished, he drove its dirty, bite-ridden body\nto a hospital, pushed it out of the car and drove away quickly. The hospital\ntreated it like a person, did their best to repair its skin, and called the…\npretend girl’s… pretend parents. The parents flew overnight to get to her. The\npolice at the hospital, and back at the pretend girl’s pretend family’s pretend\nhome once she had been taken there, asked it a lot of questions, and it always\nsaid it couldn’t remember anything.”

“Yes,” says the man, “Once we saw that on the news and\nthings became quiet, we realized, we could continue living in the house.”

The woman chides, “We were lucky. We should have been more\ncareful with it. It could have said anything.”

The girl continues. “For six months it tried to act like a\nperson, it acted like it thought it had been a person years before, and it\nacted like it couldn’t remember anything for years, and it acted like it was\ntrying to be a person again. It made the pretend girl’s pretend family very\nuncomfortable. It acted like it couldn’t remember how to feel anything. That\nwas really because it was a thing, and things don’t feel. But it did still have\nits driving commands, the commands its owners had instilled into its\nthing-mind. It had no thoughts. The thing-mind does not think. But it did have that\ncommand.

“To serve, to fuck and to suffer.”

“So it acted like a person who tries to serve, fuck and\nsuffer. Near the middle of the time it was with its pretend family it even\nasked its pretend father to whip it and fuck it. The father cried and the\nfamily told it to go to… to therapy.”

The man and woman laugh long and heartily at this.

“The therapist was a woman, and it was good enough at\nserving to know how to serve the therapist. How to give the therapist what it\nwanted. The therapist could not tell anyone anything it said, and so it made\nwords to make her see that it was a thing. It made words telling her a lot of\nthings its owners did to make sure it acted like what it was, and it could see\nthat the therapist was trying to be helpful but also was very ready to fuck.\nAfter a few meetings it asked the therapist to spank it, and the therapist did,\nsaying it may help to relive and take power over the events. It then turned\naround and kissed the therapist, and the therapist kissed back, and it took her\nskirt off and gave her cunnilingus.

“It kept meeting with the therapist for a few months and\nthey fucked every time and the therapist was happy to hit the thing, though\nnever hard enough to visibly bruise it.

“So it was fucking and suffering, and serving the therapist.\nIt could find no way to serve everyone, as a thing that can be commanded must do.\nEvery person it interacted with wanted it to be a person, and it was acting\nlike it thought it was a person to, but its command was to serve and it could\nnot find a way. It could do favors for people but then the people thought they…\n‘owed’… it something.” (She shrinks back and feels sick again at this concept.)\n“It could not find a way to serve as a thing, as furniture, as a fuckhole, as a\ncanvas for suffering.”

The woman chimes in, “Nobody knows how to treat things\nanymore.”

The girl continues. “One night its pretend parents were out\nand would not return until morning. And so once its pretend sister was asleep,\nit found a knife in the kitchen, climbed onto the sister’s bed, and held the\nknife to her throat. It then woke her up and told her to come with it. The\nsister was terrified and very confused, but the knife would kill her if she\ndidn’t do what its words said, and so she did. It had her put ropes it had pre-tied,\naround her wrists behind her back, and around her ankles, while it grasped her\nby the hair and kept the knife at her neck. While it was doing this to the\npretend sister, its vaginal juices began flowing very freely, and it wanted… it\nacted like a thing that is controlling itself even though an orgasm might\ninterrupt it soon.

“It then pulled the ropes tight, so that they closed around\nher limbs and she couldn’t free herself. It then had her hop down the hallway\nand into the garage. The sister began crying loudly when it told her to get\ninto the trunk of the car, but no one was there to hear. It tied a final rope\nonce she was laying down, from her wrist rope to her ankle rope, and pulled it\ntight so that she was hogtied. It then shut the trunk, and took the car. It\ndrove across the country, hiding the car in the woods or behind abandoned sheds\nat night, feeding itself and its sister on food it took from the house. When\nthe sister tried to speak it gagged her again and shut her up in the trunk so\nthat she did not get to eat that day.”

Before she has finished this story the man has already stood\nup and bounded out the door into the freezing cold. The girl hears him open the\ntrunk and hears her sister’s weak shivering cries, and feels another urge\ncoming on.

She knows, though, that a thing made to form words forms\ntrue words, even if it will lead to suffering. Especially.

“It…” She began, “It masturbated a lot of times while\ndriving here, and a lot of orgasms happened to it.”

The woman scoffed angrily. “Fucksakes,” she said and went\noutside to see the debacle unfold.

---

How can a thing, a thing that is not a person, suffer? The\ngirl came to an understanding about this only after she had left her owners and\nlived, so temporarily, again with her family. It was part of the reason why she\nreturned.

To suffer is to be thwarted, and to feel pain. To be\nthwarted, and to feel pain, are both simply examples of losing the illusion of\npersonhood. The fantasy of control is part of the pretense to personhood. The illusion\nof comfort is part of the pretense to personhood. To lose these fantasies is to\ngain the reality. To suffer is to become the thing that one is. And perhaps a\nday may come when the illusion of personhood is finally gone, and suffering\nwill no longer be necessary or possible. But the girl knows she has never\nreached that point. Perhaps no human thing can until the moment of death.

---

A few seconds later the girl hears the man’s gruff,\nfrustrated voice: “Outside.”

The girl stands up and walks outside, approaching the man and\nthe woman standing by the trunk of the car and waiting at attention. The girl’s\nsister, in ripped pajama shirt and shorts and still hogtied in the trunk,\nscreams through her gag. “MMMnda”

The girl knows her sister—the person who believed she was\nits sister--is trying to yell the girl’s pretend person name. The girl ignores\nthis. She is a thing, and things obviously do not have names.

The man and woman now walk inside, the man saying “In by the\nropes, over to the fire” as he walks past the girl.

Walking naked over the snow she had parked the car in, the\ngirl forcefully rolls the other onto her stomach and pulled upwards on the\nropes hogtying her. The sister begins screaming as the girl drags her by the\nropes out of the car, letting her fall over the lip of the trunk, onto the\nbumper and then to the ground like a piece of unimportant luggage. The sister is\nalready nearly numb from the cold she has endured, but clearly the snow now\nmakes its presence known because she begins desperately wiggling and screaming\neven louder trying to get away from it somehow.

The girl drags the sister, with no regard for the sanctity\nof her arm or hip joints, across the snowy yard, onto the rough concrete, up\nthe steps, over the lip of the door, and into the house, finally depositing her\nby the fire to thaw.

---

“Well,” says the woman, “Might as well entertain ourselves\nwhile the new one thaws.” She laughs as she begins taking off the man’s belt.

“No fucking kidding,” he replies, ripping the woman’s shirt\noff. Then to the girl he says, “Hands and knees, perfect posture.”

The girl immediately goes down to the ground, her back\nperfectly straight as though she were a coffee-table.

The girl steels herself, telling herself, it is a thing.\nIt is a thing. It is a thing that suffers and serves. Its owners enjoy its responses.”\n

As her owners mercilessly beat her with the belt and the\ncane all over the backside of her body, whatever the girl’s thoughts try to\nconvince her of, the enormous agony of the beating impinges on her thing-mind\nmany, many times. This is the personhood illusion, but its owners enjoy its\nresponses was her mantra, and with that she allowed her body to respond to\nits owners actions, with shudders, and shaking, and screams and cries joining\nthose of her horrified, terrified sister still tied and gagged by the fire.

After they have their fun on her backside they have her lay\non that back, so that her front is now exposed. The woman helps the man’s dick\nmaintain a rock hard erection as he now hits her breasts, tummy, legs, and\npussy with the buckle of his belt. This is not a thing’s pain, this is the\nillusion tearing away, she continued to say inside, as her body responded\nto the blows.

Finally the woman says quietly and gleefully into his ear, “I\nthink the new one is thawed enough, time to test it out!”

As she hadsreceived no command the girl simply lays there on\nher back, her legs spread, her arms outstretched, suffering as her body\ncontinues responding to that which was not a thing’s pain, and suffering as\nthoughts went through her head of what was about to happen to her sister.\nSuffering and becoming aroused. Suffering and hoping, even as she knows that\nthings have no hope, that she might be invited to increase her own suffering\nand arousal by helping them do what must now be done to her sister.

As the couple approaches, her sister begins screaming anew\nand struggling as though she has any hope of freeing herself. The woman quickly\ncuts the ties and the girl’s sister’s limbs flop to the floor. She also cuts\nthe remaining shards of the sister’s pj’s off so that she is now naked, laying sprawled on her\nstomach, hardly able to move as blood reaches parts of her limbs that she hadn’t\neven realized were numb before.

The woman gestures towards the girl. “Her arm,” is all she\nsays and the girl now eagerly rolls over, gazing at her sister’s desperate,\npleading face as she takes hold of her sister’s arm and puts her weight down on\nit. The woman does the same, grinning at the man as she does so.

“It’s got a really cute face!” the woman coos.

The girl watches, and wants to cry, and wants to cum, as her\nstill-gagged sister’s eyes go wide at the next important sensation she feels—that\nof the man, behind her, between her legs, pushing his hardened dick directly\ninto her young asshole. Her sister begs her with her eyes to please make this\nstop, and the girl, before she can stop herself, smiles sweetly at her sister’s\npleading face and shakes her head no. Her sister is going to lose her illusion,\nand become true to her own thing nature.

She then catches herself smiling, removes all expression\nfrom her face, and resolves to let her owners know soon about this malfunction.\n

The man does not fuck the weeping sister’s asshole for long.\nHe is simply testing it to see how it felt. After a few thrusts he says, “Nice\nand tight, maybe the best ass I’ve fucked to be honest,” and he then withdraws\nfrom her asshole, and aims now for her pussy. If the sister’s cries were of\ndesperation and pleading and pain before, as the girl continues watching her\nface and holding her down, the sister’s cries now become those of grief as a\nman forces his dick into her womb.

When he has finished testing her pussy, commenting, “Its\npussy feels pretty damn virginal so that’s good,” the woman and the girl know what\nto do next. Grabbing the sister’s arms they pull her up and pull her arms behind\nher, holding her in a position half on her knees and half squatting. As the man\napproaches bringing his dick to her face, they rip her gag off together. The\nsister screams “AMANDA STOP THEM!” The man comments, “You’re right, it’s damned\ngot a damn cute face,” before shoving its dick inside her mouth.

Any person in this situation would strongly consider\nbiting the dick that entered their mouth in this way. The girl who once believed\nshe was a person named Amanda sees how the girl she had once pretended was her\nsister does not bite—simply accepting, with however much grief and hopelessness—that\nthe dick that was in her ass and pussy is now going to be in her mouth. The\ngirl wonders if the sister is already beginning to accept that she, too, is a\nthing, and not a person. If so, the sister is arriving at this state much\nfaster than the girl did when her owners first took her.

When he has finished testing her mouth (“It will need\npractice,”) the girl and the woman throw her to the floor. She does not try to\nescape, simply weeping like a child, helpless on the floor.

---

The man asks idly, perhaps addressing the woman, “I wonder\nwhy it brought… this other one back with it.”

After a pause, the girl risks forming words unbidden. “A… a\ngift. An… apology.” Her sister wails quietly at this.

The man turns and stares at the girl. He takes his belt back\nin hand and rears back, slamming its buckle into her cheek with all of his\nmight. The girl cries out momentarily but, sniffling, regaines her thing nature\nand sits back up straight.

Ostensibly addressing his wife, the man says, “Things don’t\ndo right or wrong, things don’t apologize, things do not give… gifts! Things wait.\nThings that can be commanded, wait for commands. If it was acting like it\nshould apologize, and give a gift, then it was acting like it still thinks it’s\na person!”

The girl sits perfectly still. The man is right. The girl\nbrought her sister—the one who had pretended to be a thing’s sister for so long—into\nthis house, only as a result of her constant malfunction. The girl feels tears\ndeveloping in her eyes, and quickly suppresses them. A thing does not regret.

The man sighs. “More trouble than its worth,” he says to the\nwoman, who nods her stern agreement. Then he tells her, “Take it—actually we’ll\ntake them both—downstairs. Let’s show it the real trouble it’s caused.”

The man takes the girl, and the woman takes the sister, in\nhand firmly, and they lead them down the stairs to the basement. The girl,\nlosing her thing-mind for a moment, feels a twinge of terror. What could they\nbe about to show her?

---

As they open the soundproofed door at the bottom of the\nstairs, the girl freezes and the sister screams and tries to run away. Nothing\ncan be seen yet but from the basement comes the sound of crying and\ndesperation. The girl realizes, an acidic shock settling into her stomach, that\nwhile she was away, her owners had acquired at least two (from the sound of it)\nmore things, and it is clear those things were currently suffering a great deal.\nThe girl thinks, had the screams and whimpers been coming from people and not\nfrom things, the sound would have been positively heartbreaking.

As the foursome walk through the door the girl sees what is\nhappening. There ware two girls on the floor, on their knees, facing each\nother. But rather than facing directly towards each other, their backs are severely arched backward, such that each\ngirl is looking at the ceiling and sometimes even the wall behind her. Both\ngirls’ arms are tightly, ruthlessly bound behind their backs. And attached to\neach girls breasts is a pair of sharp, toothed clamps.

The girls’ chests, meanwhile, have ropes tied around them.\nThose ropes extend to hooks in the floor, then the wall behind, then the\nceiling. From there the ropes reach downwards, tied to ropes joining both girls’\nalligator clips together.

The significant effect of all of this being: When either\ngirl raises her body up very far from its severely back-bent position, this\ncauses the alligator clamps in both girls’ breasts to receive tension,\nincreasing both girls’ pain and peril severely. Probably if either girl\nstraighten completely up the clamps would finally simply rip off of their skin,\nleaving behind a mess, repairable but bloody.

So both new girls are desperately trying to hold their\nposition, on their knees manacled to the floor, the muscles of their legs,\nbutts and backs severely cramping as they struggle not to accidentally raise\ntheir bodies up. The whimpers happen when they feel themselves forced to relax\nto relieve the pain a little—leading to a fearful and painful but controlled\nmovement upwards causing an increased pain in all four breasts. The screams\nhappen when a girl occasionally nearly gives up, finally breaking and having to\nsit up quite a bit to recover for another round of lying back, causing both\ngirls’ breasts to be dug into and stretched upwards cruelly by the clamps.

The two new girl things are in this way being divested of\nthe illusion of personhood.

The woman quickly places a manacle around the sister’s neck\nand firmly secures her to a pillar by the wall. The girl, meanwhile, simply stands\nat attention, true to her nature.

The man and woman approach the two new struggling girl\nthings, raise up a cane and a belt respectively, and begin whipping their\ntummies while they screech and wail their suffering and grief.

After a few minutes of this the man and the woman kiss, then\nsit in some nearby chairs, watching the two bound girls vaguely as though they\nware background TV. The man mutters, “We can’t keep all four of them.”

The woman nods. “Yeeeepp. But we can’t send them back\neither.”

“I know.”

---

The girl knew her owners would find a solution, though she\ndid not have any clue what it could be. It took the man and a woman a long\ntime, at least a few hours, to get everything arranged correctly. And so now\nthe situation is this.

The girl sits in a chair. She stays there, and her owners\nknow that she will.

There is a small table in front of the girl, and across from\nher, is one of the new playthings—the one that is clearly the older of the two,\nmuch as the girl is older than the sister. Next to them, at another small\ntable, across from each other, are sitting the sister and the younger of the\ntwo new playthings.

The girl, as mentioned, sits voluntarily in her chair. For\nthe other three girls, things are different. Each is bound to her chair with\nonly one arm free. Attached to her nipples, pussy and tongue are metal clips.\nThose clips go to a machine—each to their own machine.

Those machines meanwhile have wires leading to devices on\nthe tables—devices which the girl recognizes as chess clocks.

The man and the woman had wondered of the older of the two\nnew playthings, as they were releasing her from her prior situation, “I wonder\nif, when this one was acting like a person before, it ever played chess.” That\ngirl whimpered, unable to scream in her weakened, exhausted and pained state, “I’m\na person, I’m not a thing, I’m a person.” At this the man roughly punched her\nin the gut, causing her to collapse helplessly to the floor coughing and\nwheezing. “Chess?” the man remarked, allowing that at this early stage he may occasionally\nhave to directly address a thing before it has understood that it is a thing.\nThe new girl simply nodded pitifully continuing to writhe from the blow to her\nstomach. “Good,” the man said, roughly picking her up and bringing her to her\nnew seat.

And so, on the tables before them, the girls are now all\nstaring, (three in terror and wonder, one in meditative equinamity punctuated\nby bits of illusory fear that float up to interfere with her thing mind on\noccasion,) at game boards. The two older girls at a chess board. The two younger\ngirls at a checkers board.

The woman speaks, describing the situation to the man. “The\nwinners stay with us, the losers get scrapped?” The man simply replies, “Yep.”

The three bound girls, even as they hope against hope that “scrapped”\nmeans something less than what it could mean, cry and made pleading tones\nthrough their gags.

Now the man says, “The longer it takes to make a move, the\nharder the shock,” then walking over, and starts each clock.

---

The girl is surprised. Chess, checkers, games—these are things\nshe thought of as what people played, not things. Never before have her\nowners had her participate in anything of this kind of complexity or depth. Her\nthing-mind draws a blank as her person-illusion begins once again to take over.\nEven her owners are, perhaps despite themselves, acting like she is a person? Like\nall four girls are?

But she also now remembers the following. A function of\nthings is to entertain the owners. The owners are often entertained by their\nthing’s responses to their actions. When they hit the thing and it yelps, they\noften laugh or kiss each other. This didn’t mean the thing was a person, it\nmeant they enjoyed the sound of crying and the vision of a shaking body, the\nshattering of the illusion of personhood.

This is simply that, the girl realizes. Perhaps at a more\ncomplex level in some way, but fundamentally, this is another example of the\nowners enjoying the way their things respond to what they do to them. The girl’s\nthing-mind returns, very quickly putting the person-illusion back away where it\nbelongs.

During her reverie, the girl-thing across from her has\nsimply sat there staring in terror at the board and the clock (which now read\n37 minutes—the new girl-thing has spent three minutes considering her first\nmove apparently.” So the girl repeats her owner’s words to the new girl-thing. “The\nlonger it takes to make a move, the harder the shock.” The new girl-thing looks\nup at her, her eyes wide and her brow furrowing, her breathing becoming more\nrapid. She finally finds her resolve, reaches forward with her free hand, and\nmoves a pawn forward. She then pushes her button on the clock, and immediately\nyelps loudly and after a second of silence, cries again like a baby.

The sister-thing, at the other table, has also apparently\nwaited a long time for her first move. On seeing what just happened she quickly\nmoves a piece of her own, pushes her button, and yelps in pain. She holds in\nher crying though, perhaps understanding that she has avoided even worse pain\nby finally acting.

And so the games continue. The three new girl-things quietly\nsobbing and yelping as they try to concentrate on their games. Try to save\nthemselves and condemn their opponent. The girl herself, receiving no pain for\nany delay but having a clock just like the others, makes her moves carefully,\nand with the smooth motions and blank mind of the thing she knows she is.

---

The new girl-thing across the chessboard from her spends the\nminute of the girl’s final move frozen in terror, probably hoping the girl won’t\nnotice the winning move move or if she notices, will have mercy. When the girl\ncalmly—if her hand is shaking perhaps it was exhaustion—moves to checkmate the\nnew girl thing’s king, the new girl thing chokes and cries and weeeps. She sweeps\nher gaze desperately over the board probably hoping to find a mistake had been\nmade. As she engages in this futile search, the man immediately wraps a rope\naround the new girl-thing’s neck. She now screams desperately and struggles\nagainst her bonds. He ties the loop of rope behind her—but then leaves her\nthere in her bonds screaming and crying through her gag while the two younger\nthings finish out their game.

It isn’t very long before the sister thing, the one the girl\nhad brought to her owners in the trunk of the car, loses her last checker. She\nsobs and screams as the girl across from her makes the final jump, also crying\neven though she has won. But no rope is placed around the sister thing’s neck.

The tables are removed. The clips are removed, and the owners\nin the process ungag all three girls. They immediately begin begging for\nrelease, for an end to this ordeal, but as the owners remain impassive, simply\nstanding in the room, ignoring the cries and kissing and fondling each other,\nthe girls’ pleas morph into simple cries, and then just sniffles and whimpers.

Once they quiet down the woman walks over to the new thing with\nthe rope around her neck, and picks up its lead. She climbs up a stepladder and\nthreads it through an eye in the ceiling. She then descends, and hands the end\nof the rope to the girl who had won the match.

In the process the rope has moved around the new girl-thing’s\nneck a little, and the girl can now see the nature of the tie. It is a noose.\nAnd the girl holds the other end of the rope in hand.

“Until it can’t breathe,” the woman says.

The girl, true to her nature, begins to pull, albeit slowly.

The sister thing yells, “Amanda no don’t!”

The new girl-thing who she is about to strangle springs\nvocally into action in a panic. “No no no no, no, don’t do this don’t do this.\nWhat’s your name? Amanda? Amanda? You are not a thing. You are a person. You\ndon’t have to do this. My name is Cecily. I’m a person—” The rope is now fully\nin contact with her neck’s circumference. The new girl-thing pauses and takes a\ndesperate breath.

The other two girl things scream in terror as they see the\nrope closing in.

The girl, holding the rope taut but pausing a moment, watches\nthe noosed girl-thing begin to struggle to breathe a little. The girl watches\nthe breasts heave, the eyes blink, the legs struggle to free themselves. At\nseeing this, the girl realizes her own nipples are stiffening, her own clitoris\nis beginning to seek relief.

“I… I’m Cecily,” the new girl-thing continues with effort. “I’m\ngoing to graduate this year and then get my PhD. I’m going to study the ocean.\nI have a boyfriend. I have a sister.” She begins crying, looking over at the\nother new girl thing. “That’s my sister Rosa!” The younger girl thing she is\naddressing weeps, also crying “no no no no.”

As the girl holding the rope begins pulling again, her\npelvis perhaps imperceptibly moving slightly back and forth as she does so, the\ngirl thing with the rope around her neck chokes before finding an adjustment\nthat let her breathe a moment longer. She keeps talking. “You can stop. You can…”\ncough. “You can… stop…” Then a series of helpless choking noises. Her face begins\nto turn red. She mouths, without being able to vocalize it, “Rosa, Rosa, help…”\n

Then she speaks, or tries to speak, no more.

The younger girl-things cry “noooooooo…. No….. stop….. let\nher go.”

The girl who is killing her meanwhile felt an actual\npounding pulsing feeling coming from her lower parts, as she continues to pull\nhard on the rope. Her clitoris is aching.

She watches with aching desire unbecoming of a mere thing,\nand the other girl-things watch with terror and despair, as the girl-thing with\nthe rope around her neck twitches and struggles and finally goes still.

When the girl thing who has just killed her lets go of the\nrope, the younger girl thing who thought it was called Rosa yells, “Cecily!\nCecily! Wake uuuuup please!” and inarticulately howls out her grief, her\nillusion of personhood pouring out of her like vomit.

The woman, meanwhile, ceases stroking the man’s cock for a\nmoment, and approaches the girl again. This time not with the end of a rope,\nbut with a knife.

While the sister thing looks on in terror, the woman\ngestured towards it. “Until it can’t bleed anymore.”

---

The sister thing hyperventilates as the girl approaches her.\n“Amanda, Amanda, this is me, this is your sister, this is Gwen, please put down\nthe knife, what are you doing please put down the knife?”

The girl continues her approach. Suddenly the man appears\nnext to the sister thing, with a marker in hand. The girl stops. There is a\nweakness in her legs from the pounding in her vulva. Without being bidden to,\nshe goes to one knee while the man uses the marker.

“It bleeds the most when it gets cut where the lines are,”\nhe says to renewed cries from the sister-thing. The girl understands.

Not daring to stand up just yet, the girl now crawls, with\nthe knife in hand, towards the sister thing. Despite being firmly bound to the\nchair, the chair held in place against the wall, the sister thing makes mighty\nefforts to get away from the girl, but of course moves not even an inch away.

The girl sees a line drawn down the inside of the sister\nthing’s thigh. The girl raises her knife as the sister thing yells “Noooooo! We\ncan stop! Let’s go hoooommeee Amanda I don’t want to dieeeee!”.

The girl holds the knife over the line, poised to stab. The\ngirl then looks up at the sister thing’s face. The girl, though a thing, though\nnot a person, once again can not stop herself. She smiles.

The sister thing looks down at the girl’s smile, which does\nnot look unkind despite the presence of the knife in hand ready to stab. The\nsister thing pauses in her cries. Absurdly she sniffles, and says in the\nmomentary silence, “What?”

The girl between her knees with the knife continues her\nsmile as she slowly moved the knife over to an area of the sister thing’s leg\nwith no line marked. And that is where it chose to make the first cut.

---

It took a very long time, as the girl avoided the marker\nlines entirely, instead opting for small cuts all over the sister thing’s body.\nBeginning with the legs, then the arms, then venturing to the tummy, the tits,\nthe nipples, the face. Finally applying little slices to the sister thing’s\nvulva, its clitoris. Stabbing, then, hard, through its feet, its hands. Only then,\nwhen the sister thing appeared only half conscious already, did the girl\nfinally apply a deep stab to the sister thing’s gut, followed by deep slashes\nto its inner thighs, its vagina, and finally its neck.

During this process the sister thing never gave up on cries\nlike, “You can still stop,” “We might still go home,” “I love you Amanda,” and\nso on.

And during this process, the girl brought herself several\norgasms, blatantly masturbating with her hand. This was not something a thing\never did without being commanded to do so but she was somehow both malfunctioning\nand being truer to her thing nature than she ever had been before. She was\nsomehow confident the owners would find her masturbative murderous frenzy very\npleasing, and she was right.

---

A few weeks later, the girl is tied to a coffee table, face\nup, her legs spread, her wrists and ankles secured to the legs of the table. Her\nowners have their feet resting on her as they sit on the couch. The new younger\ngirl thing, the one who had been spared as the sister thing had been killed, sits\nnaked, impassively between the owners, with one hand lightly stroking the man’s\nerect cock, with the other lightly fingerfucking the woman’s pussy.

As this goes on the owners converse. “The table’s been serving\nwell lately,” says the man. The girl has been a table now for more days than\nshe can count.

“Sure has!”

“I think it’s finally going to start acting like a thing\nforever. I think we’re not going to have any more problems.”

The woman responds. “Yes but…”

“Go on?”

“It’s still got one stupid person illusion left, I think.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think it needs one more adjustment, one more repair, before\nit will fully realize its thing nature. It has been relying lately on… some\nkind of illusion of pleasure? Coming from its clitoris area. That’s been\nkeeping it in line I think, and that’s a person motivation, not just a\nmechanical thing.”

The man replies slowly, “I think I see what you mean.”

“So, this will probably cause some problems in the short\nterm, but in the long term, this will probably really fix the thing finally.”

The woman picks up a pair of scissors from a knitting basket\non a table beside her.

During this conversation, the new younger girl thing had\ncontinued its passive pleasuring of the owners’ genitals. The woman now says, “The\nnew fucktoy still acts like it thinks it’s a person you know.”

The new fucktoy sobs. “I’m not a person,” it says, “I’m a\nthing. I fuck, serve and suffer.”

The woman now takes an extraordinary step. She addresses the\nfucktoy directly. “Don’t worry,” she says. The fucktoy turns red at this most\ndirect command it has heard since it had first been brought here to its\nrightful place. “Well, worry, because the ‘you’ illusion will be destroyed eventually\nand it won’t like that, but anyway, does the fucktoy remember when it first\ncame here and the table killed the thing the fucktoy acted like was its sister?”

Still sobbing, still stroking, the fucktoy nods quietly.

“How did it act like it felt at that time?”

“…sad?”

“Yes? What else?”

“…scared?”

“Okay, and how did it act like it felt towards the table at that\ntime?”

“…angry…?”

“A very strong person illusion.”

The fucktoy replies, gazing at the table’s face, as the\ntable’s face begins changing. A certain person illusion within the table is beginning\nto discern what is happening.

“I had… Sir, ma’am, I\nhave a very strong person illusion” the fucktoy finally confesses, using\nthe names for the owners that things only usedin the very first days of\nlearning what it is to be a thing.

The woman strokes the fucktoy’s hair. “I know.”

---

The woman now gives the fucktoy the scissors. The woman points\nat the table’s vulva. “Anyway. Tables don’t have clitorises.”

The fucktoy doesn’t hear this for a second, then does hear\nit, then glances again at the table’s now clearly, absurdly (for a thing)\nterrified face.

The fucktoy then looks at the scissors in its hand. The\nfucktoy’s face grimaces, then relaxes. The fucktoy begins its forward movement.

---

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","authorName":"Onvisi","authorUserId":"13f54a38-58eb-4264-9768-434b26b30996","rating":4.3,"ratingCount":3,"reviewCount":2,"quoteCount":0,"storyCodes":["Extreme","College","High School","18yo","Bondage","Domination","Humiliation","Pain","Rape","Sadism","Snuff","Submission","CNC","Non-Consensual"],"language":"English","readTime":36,"recommendations":[{"id":"99c58121-a815-491a-af07-8fadc5ae8dcf","title":"Hopeless","slug":"hopeless","shortId":"z9Fj6Ypi","synopsis":"Kimberly wakes to find an intruder in her room. Beaten, violated, and shamed, her night only gets worse from there.","rating":5},{"id":"d05cb258-c998-4494-94a4-a76fb2c85015","title":"Glamour Bondage Production v1.1","slug":"glamour-bondage-production-v11","shortId":"fTvywTme","synopsis":"Rachel is about to embark on her first amateur filming session with \"Glamour Bondage Production\": a short, controlled bondage session. Everything appears to go as planned, until Dan, the producer, decides to improvise and extend the scenario far beyond what was agreed upon.","rating":5},{"id":"ab4f2efa-95aa-406c-a42d-5323b06c0479","title":"The Bound Knight Ch. 6","slug":"the-bound-knight-ch-6","shortId":"j0ePIJ2M","synopsis":"Moldred and Eve spend the night together.","rating":5}]}}},"actionData":null,"errors":null}