She hadn’t seen her face in a year. It was her own fault – Dylan had entrusted her with a sizeable packet of drugs to keep for him, but the police had raided her and seized them, and although she’d escaped jail herself, she’d accrued an unpayable level of debt to Dylan as a result of the loss. He’d given her a choice – pay immediately (she couldn’t), or be his sex slave until she had worked off the debt. She chose the latter, and was subsequently dismayed to find that she’d be kept nude in his house, unable to work a regular job, and he would shave a dollar off her debt each time she orgasmed, five dollars off her debt each time she made *him* orgasm, and twenty dollars each time she orgasmed while feeling extreme pain or degradation.
While he wasn’t home, she would sit and masturbate while talking out loud to her phone camera about the most degrading things she could think of – each time she could show him footage of herself cumming while fantasising about being raped by her father or eating cum from a dog bowl, it would bring her $20 closer to freedom.
While he *was* home, she’d kneel naked and suck his cock constantly while he played videogames, watched TV or talked to friends. He would ignore her, treating her as a piece of fuckable furniture, except on the occasions he gave her the chance to make extra money by cumming from having her tits whipped or having her pussy raped by one of his friends.
Throughout it all, he was reconditioning the way she thought of herself. There were no mirrors in his house. He had gone through all her photo albums and social media and cropped her face out of her every photo she had, so that the remainder was centred on her tits and pussy. He took new photos of her, showing her tits and cunt only, and applied them to her ID cards, social media profile pictures, and hung framed prints in his house. He stared at her tits or pussy when he spoke to her, never her face, and always called her “Cunt” instead of her name. When he wanted her in makeup, or to have a haircut, he would invite her sister over – who he was fucking – and he would tie her naked to a chair, and have her sister do the necessary grooming. She would thank her sister by licking Dylan’s cum out of her pussy.
Soon she stopped thinking of herself in terms of her face. She thought of herself as a pair of tits and a cunt. People had faces, but she wasn’t people. So one day, after her second orgasm of the day from being sexually abused by her sister, when Dylan told her she’d finally worked off her debt and she was free to go, she sat there, bemused, for five minutes, wondering how a pair of tits and a cunt even interacted with the world if they weren’t enslaved, before begging Dylan to keep her. “I’ll be a good pair of tits,” she heard herself whine. “I’m such a good cunt. Please let me stay a slave…”
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