#12 Brainwashing (2)
1. Situational factors. No sleep. No food. Constant sexual stimulation. Appetite, lust, and sleep—the three primal urges at the core of every human. The strongest proof that humans are no different from beasts.
Yuchan gently spread the legs of the bound Nayae and attached a clitoris clamp and rotor to her. This time, he set the vibration to a high intensity. From his observations, this level would make her climax roughly once every fifteen minutes. To heighten her humiliation, he hadn't even laid a sheet under her ass. What thoughts would run through her mind as she sat in the sticky pool of her own fluids?
"No... I'm a dirty slut who fucks anyone... I'm sorry."
"That's right... I'm the whore who spreads her legs for any guy at the academy who asks, every day."
"Even at the... swimming pool... I actually get fucked by boys every day..."
"Yes, Nayae is Teacher's dog... always keeping her holes wet so you can shove your cock in anytime..."
"I'm sorry for being a vulgar pet who pisses herself cumming from her clit... Please educate me with your cock..."
"Hic! I'll squeeze... I'll squeeze tighter...!!"
"Sorry my pussy hole is so loose... Ha-ut..."
"Yes... Make the inside of my pussy all grown-up too..."
Around Nayae, who sat scribbling something in the chair, an audio file played on loop—her voice alone, edited from moments of her submission and despair. Clips pieced together from the videos he'd recorded. It wasn't for his amusement. This was to emphasize specific experiences, inducing a dissociative state.
"Hng... Hngh...!!!" Nayae's body jerked violently in the chair. With the slick sound of fluids dripping, another dark puddle spread across the wooden seat. Regardless of her feelings, her erogenous zones kept responding to the rotor, forcing her into pathetic climaxes.
"I... I'm done peeing..."
It was six in the morning, dawn breaking outside. But the blackout curtains sealed every window tight, letting in not a sliver of light. Deprived of proper sleep by the relentless orgasms, Nayae had barely rested. Meanwhile, Yuchan slept soundly in the bed, unbothered. The noises grated a bit, but he could consciously tune them out as white noise and drift off.
"Teacher...! Ha-ut... I'm done peeing..."
She desperately called his name until he woke. Yuchan stirred for a moment before opening his eyes. He took a swig of cold water from the nightstand and sat up like he was doing a sit-up.
"Please... let me sleep now... I feel like I'm dying..."
Far past her limit for sleep, writhing endlessly in pleasure. Surrounded by her own groveling voice from all sides. It was more than enough to wear down her fragile mind and body.
"...What time is it?"
"I don't know."
His voice slightly languid, Yuchan swept back his bangs. Being a trainer meant syncing somewhat with the subject—not easy on him either. Come to think of it, he hadn't given Nayae a clock, precisely to disorient her sense of time.
Yuchan glanced at his wristwatch. Six a.m. The only light was a small lamp for her to read and write by. She couldn't tell if it was morning, dawn, or night.
Nayae's voice held no strength. Left like this, she might just collapse into sleep without finishing her homework. Stimulation kept her from dozing off, but he couldn't stop her from passing out cold.
"Then why don't you read it for me?"
Yuchan lowered the speaker volume with the remote.
"I, Choi Nayae, have no value in living..."
Her homework was simple: demean and condemn herself. Then pledge lifelong submission and obedience to her teacher, who had taken her in. Normally, she'd scoff it off. A healthy mind could rationalize and forget such acts. But with the audiovisual barrage, sensory overload, and her body and mind at their limits—deprived of all mental defenses—what would happen if she wrote and read such things now?
"...Nayae couldn't even properly serve as Teacher's cocksleeve... My holes are loose like a whore's... To Teacher, who took such a Nayae as a pet..."
"Stop."
Her eyes, once sharp with intellect, were dulled by exhaustion and despair. Articulately defending her views had been one of her strengths. But in this extreme state, even that crumbled—her words incoherent, context sloppy.
He cut off her recitation. Nayae stared blankly at the paper filled with crooked handwriting. The sensations from her lower abdomen felt repulsive. She wanted sleep. Sex. Food—anything. Her urges narrowed to the primal.
Her usual pride and self-respect were distant now, shoved aside by survival deficits.
"It doesn't feel like your true feelings are in there."
"No! I really... I truly thought it through and wrote it hard..."
Yuchan snatched the paper from her hand and tore it up.
"Ah... Ah..."
Filling a full A4 sheet by hand took about an hour. Which meant at least another hour without sleep. She could endure writing self-debasement in this state, even reading it aloud before him. But...
"I really... Hic... tried so hard..."
"You're suffering a lot."
Yuchan pulled out a prepped amphetamine syringe. Seeing it, Nayae's body jolted. Her last sleep felt ancient history. One hit, and she'd snap awake, senses hypersensitive—reacting fiercely to stim she thought she'd adapted to, forced alert.
"No injection... Teacher... I want to sleep..."
He grabbed her trembling arm, pierced the smooth skin to her vein. She shook her head in refusal but didn't pull away, making it easy. After repeated doses, both arms were bruised black-and-blue. Maybe he should've inserted a catheter. A twinge of pity for Nayae—he'd marred her pretty body. Just a manner of speaking, of course.
"Haaa..."
Amphetamines built tolerance instantly, but by gradually upping the dose, she got consistent effects. Air escaped her throat in a whoosh as her body went limp. No worry—the real awakening would come soon; this was just brief relaxation.
"Write it again."
He handed her fresh paper. To prevent self-harm or escape attempts with the pen, he gave her a thick marker.
Facing another blank sheet, Nayae felt utter despair.
2. Yuchan managed Nayae for three full days without even going to work. He'd removed the rotor for now—continuous stimulation risked straining her weakened heart from drugs and sleep deprivation. Otherwise, it was a tedious endurance match, a boring stretch of watching her break. His only pleasure: observing her Black Box warp pathetically.
That once-vibrant, massive salmon was now picked clean by predators, bones starkly exposed. Its fins swayed feebly, on the verge of drowning.
His longest experiment had lasted two weeks. She was stunningly beautiful, but he couldn't stand by while she tried framing an innocent citizen for sexual harassment. She truly had been innocent—no touch from him at all. Theories abounded on why humans need sleep, but Yuchan knew the outcome of no sleep: hallucinations, auditory torment. That woman vomited blood and died on day fourteen. So four days awake wouldn't kill her.
3. She couldn't tell how much time had passed. At least two days, probably. Choi Nayae was a toilet. A cum dump. A slut spreading for anyone. Living solely for cock. All her body care till now had been to become Yuchan's sex slave. She'd worked tirelessly on the answer sheet he wanted.
How many more times? If she nailed this, he'd let her sleep, eat properly, bathe in warm water, climax from gentle pussy sex. Teacher deigning to grace a failure like her with his precious semen—what profound grace.
"Done..."
She looked over the paper. Words scraped out by her sluggish brain. Crooked letters invaded the lines, ugly as sin. Writing the same theme dozens of times—unprecedented, even for her. She'd done essay practice for exams a few times, but never a hundred.
She wrote of kind corrections guiding her to her true role as sex slave. Teacher Yuchan—so hated, feared before. Now, only his voice brought calm. Alone in the empty room without him, she felt like drifting naked through space.
Calling him when done, he'd approach, point out errors. Sometimes hug her shoulders, inject fatigue-relief drugs. Nayae was a helpless, deficient child. How she'd struggled to ignore that, pretending to be normal? Teacher showed her that denial was wrong. He worked with her to uncover her true self.
Suppressing the urge to call him, she reviewed the writing. It had to be her best yet.
"Did I do it right?"
It brimmed with insults to Nayae. No—honest confessions of her rightful nature. Plus affection for Teacher. She couldn't write self-mockery just for sex and sleep. Adults always called her top bride material, pure as can be. Her pride wouldn't allow it. So she must've always been lewd and vulgar, as Teacher taught.
The speakers were off, silent. Yet echoes of her pathetic moans rang in her ears endlessly. If scored like music, notes scattered like crushed under boulders—or were they sunken? Didn't matter.
"Teacher, I'm done."
Her vision swam. Teacher lay on the bed, as if he'd been there forever. Joy surged. She wasn't alone anymore.
4. Deceiving others is hard. Humans fundamentally doubt to sustain relations. Proper caution toward unknowable others—but the biggest hurdle in brainwashing. To fulfill basic needs, one discards dignity and submits. Crushing for Nayae's pride.
Facing an unacceptable choice, relief came one way: self-trampling. At first, mere surface insults. Soon, compromise: she was inherently lewd. Not fabricating for food and sleep. She'd tricked herself.
From then, no need to prompt. She'd lie to herself to preserve pride. The irony: her pride-preservation crushed her further.
"When did you come in?"
At Nayae's question, Yuchan wore an inscrutable expression. She responded with a subservient, fawning smile. Unthinkable for the once-shy, polite girl—face somehow broken. Sleep deprivation, probably. A good rest would fix it. Experience told him so.
Yuchan had lounged against the bedhead from the start. She simply hadn't noticed. Impossible to miss someone right there—or had she consciously blocked him? The brain's glitches remained mysteries. God's grand legacy. Worship it.
"Want to read it?"
Muttering a dry joke, Yuchan waited for her recitation.
"Teacher kept demanding sexual things, saying it was his orders, but Nayae was happy. I peed while bathing and pledged obedience. He fitted my loose pussy with an onahole, but I can't find it. Where'd it go? My ears ring mostly, yawns make sounds louder. The sound of Nayae pledging love to Teacher bubbles like foam, and now I'm totally fine."
Listening quietly, it was utter nonsense. Not grammatical errors. LSD-tripping addict babble—indecipherable. Time for sleep. Yuchan nodded slowly, took the paper.
"How is it? I did well, right?"
The paper was blank.