Surgery

From what I could remember the Doctor had perform several "check ups" on me and had performed a labiaplasty on me. It was in full view of everyone. I stopped caring at a point though. I received several injections and skin treatments. There was talk of a tattoo or branding.

Always being inspected, poked and prodded. All in full view of course. All the while providing some sort of sexual relief for someone either in or on me. I had stop crying but never enjoyed it.

I started to see the pattern. We would be suspended, then checked up on. Girls would disappear from line up. I didn’t even flinch anymore when either them or me was spanked or beat. All that mattered was survival at this point.

The Doctor visits became less and less, until I hadn't been fucked in two weeks. I started looking toward any sort of physical contact as sexual release. I was so wound up, I couldn’t think straight. I had to somehow get some relief.

Then there was the brainwashing. I didn’t know what day it was or how long I had been there but I tried to count line ups. I use to wonder about the other girls. Now, all I knew was I wanted sex any kind it and I would do anything to get it.

Whipped, smacked, sucked, anything... something i could use to get off. They could see it in my eyes.

I knew then. My wildest fantasy was now a reality.

They owned me.