Hyper Love Surprise: Ritual Abuse

3/23/15

Sometimes, they let us sleep. But most days, we were sleep-deprived and kept awake for an excess of fourteen hours a day. The fuckface sisters liked to piss on our coats and tase us awake. It wasn't even September when they started brainwashing us. Indoctrination, experts called it. They called it 'being a good girl.'

Our handlers, as my psychiatrist would later call them, were mostly random. The only recurring handlers were the Cattleprod Sisters. We all agreed that would be their name, because they preferred cattleprods to low-strength tasers, unlike the others. They were also the most disgusting. They were also the worst of the bunch.

When I was tortured, those two wouldn't even try to act equine. They were, for the better part of my captivity, the very nexus for my hatred. The others didn't bother being sadistic. I didn't have to hate them. Sometimes, they'd finish tasing me early, stroking my cheek right after. Tasing was implemented for not following orders. Orders ranged from eating my own excrement, to sucking them off.

Sucking somepony off, ha, imagine that being your childhood passtime.

My body belonged to them. If I was told to eat shit, I ate shit. If my tenth handler for the day wanted anal, he had anal. The first few weeks, they cycled my holes one at a time. They were always lined up from the exit. It made me feel special to some extent. It made me feel wanted, especially the group sex days.

Those days, every handler I had wanted my ass. It got them off in ways I could never resist. They were always hungry for me. They'd slam into me and have their way as long as they'd want. Rough, soft, it didn't matter to anyone. I was just their's. They were all I lived for, everyday and every night, I was their spermbank. The brief vacations I had were spent missing the rape, my vile schedule. Wasn't that the point of sex, my body might've said. Wasn't that the point of being a 'kitten.'

I was never loose enough to keep them off me. Some of them were abusive. Some of them were tender. But all I felt was somepony inside me. They were all adults. I was still infertile. The one that took my first made me afraid. He was bigger than the rest. His prick was thicker than all the others'. That drove me crazy.

My first was me screaming my lungs out. I kicked and screamed till he shut me up with kisses. I cried myself to sleep while he had his way with me. His girth ripped me open and crippled my nervous response. At all times, I would shiver. He didn't show mercy. My handler spent the next few hours making me a creampie dump. How my body enjoyed it, I would never ask.

His tip bulged my stomach out and shifted my guts around. He was my first and we never even talked. At least the others abused me, or talked dirty. He was barely emotive; the most we ever exchanged were wet kisses and vice-grip orgasms I got him off with.

Hours after, my insides were sore; they were hot. Swarming needles stabbed my pubic region from how torn I was. I didn't know it, but all that time, I'd been drooling. I woke to somepony else licking my insides with their cock. 'So what it was rape', I told myself, 'so what it was people treating me like trash.'

I was worthless. Nopony cared about me, not even the nice ones. No one was looking for me. That's what my handlers said everyday: 'nopony will miss you, so you might as well enjoy it.' So I did. I bit my tongue and lost myself. I was so overstimulated during captivity that it rewired me. I was habitually compliant, so much that, most days, I wet myself from raw satisfacfion. It made me red. It turned them on. And all that cum digging around inside me melted my strength away.

That was Hell. That was someplace I would never put anyone. I still have nightmares about being kidnapped from my bed. I still get anxious by cages of any kind, or people in masks. Most of all, I hate Nightmare Night. I never go out when other kids are enjoying themselves. I can never walk outside alone, either. It's too much. My chest starts to constrict and I feel eyes all over me. The kiss of acid, stress, chokes my ventricles and I have anxiety attacks for hours. Panic attacks, I get around zoos and prisons.

Having my childhood taken away from me was, strangely enough, not the worst thing they did. Till this day, I can't trust anyone in relationships. I can't get off to people I'm close to. Because they drove me to that. They programmed me with all the abuse.

The random handlers were kind to me. It was the Cattleprod Sisters I hated. They cackled about my abuse every fucking day. And every day was the same. Wake up to electric shocks. Get bruises from my seizing body. And drift off to my happy place.

Happy places, or near-comatose states, were imperitive. My mind was breaking. I knew that indisputably, because I was starting to crave it. Anyone could take me. Anyone could use me. So what if my brain function went to crap. That wasn't important. When they had me, I drifted away to happy daydreams and let my body take the fall. It wasn't a matter of struggling to the very vestiges of my being, but finding ways to ignore it. Soon after, weeks and weeks of ritual molestation worked me into blackouts. At least, I thought they were blackouts.

The Cattleprod Sisters were fond of reversing my pleasure centers. Bu default, the mind is a clever supercomputer. So if you're always in pain, always exposed to trauma, it finds ways to preserve you. But what they did was learn to exploit my defense mechanisms.

Over time, a body exposed to too much pain will force the brain to rewire pain to pleasure. And that'll help them cope. The first thing they did was establish my multiple personalities. They broke me down while I was still me, using sex and physical abuse to do most of the work. But, most times, it's the psychological process that they rely on to iron out the wrinkles. One day, a child might be tased for no reason at all and that creates an atmosphere of confusion. Confusion and fear is what cults especially rely on to brainwash their members.

That was why, I learned later, the Cattleprod Sisters were given free reign to torment me as much as they did. They weren't just sadists. They were monsters. I'd spend all night recovering from electroshock to my labia, or even my tongue in some cases. All that pain, all that pleasure, it was just a result they spent months conditioning my body for.

Till this day, I wake whenever I'm damp. Whenever I feel sweat, or just natural humidity in general, my mind panics. I swear they're waiting for me, that someone is waiting just over my bed to shock me awake till I can't feel my legs anymore. I'm scared I'll wake up in my cage again. And they'll take me. They'll all break me in again.

I have to go. My psychiatrist is calling me.