How to Make a Sex Slave
The first place we arrived at was a transport hub for captured slaves.
"First, procure slaves from over there."
Beyond the outer wall, where the blue gate rippled like waves, a bright sky stretched out. It was long-distance teleportation magic powered by mana stones. Slave wagons came and went several times a day. Mercenaries with swords at their waists handled the transport, and the slaves were always a motley assortment.
"Humans are usually preferred, but that doesn't mean other races can't be used."
Most were human women kidnapped after wandering alone without a care, but occasionally there were females of other races caught after hiding away. Every one of them wore a terrified expression, tears streaming down their faces.
"Elves fetch top prices. Orcs and goblins... low supply but high demand, so they're pricey. Still, human women—who are easy to use up and discard—sell the best."
Treating people like merchandise, Lorella turned on her heel and headed to the next stage.
The following area was for sorting the slaves. Processing varied wildly based on race, features, and age.
"Most sell as sex slaves, but the ugly ones or those with physical defects get special treatment to turn them into viable products. Milk cows or broodmares—you know the type?"
Lorella spat the chilling words with a grin, jerking her chin toward the front.
Women who'd just been kidnapped and dragged in were undergoing selection. The staff held brushes dipped in black ink, stamping an A, B, or C on each female's cheek.
I didn't bother asking what the letters meant. I didn't want to know.
"Alright, on to the next stage."
"Ugh..."
The next step was the body processing and washing area.
Muscular men ruthlessly shredded the females' clothes, stripping them bare. Resisters got a gut punch to make them compliant, then they were locked into bizarre metal frames.
"Hang any woman from that, and she'll want to die of shame?"
"Hiiik...!"
The metal frames forced their bodies into a position with arms and legs splayed horizontally wide. Their soles—bent into diamond shapes—pressed together, while their hands were locked at right angles. Restraints at every joint ensured no movement once secured. A humiliating pose that exposed their faces, armpits, and breasts completely. They were forced to bare their most shameful parts, enduring a level of humiliation they'd never known.
"I'll explain as we go. It's pretty well automated."
The hook at the top of each frame latched onto the ceiling rail and began moving slowly. First came a blast of high-pressure water to scour the filth from their bodies, followed immediately by scorching hot air to dry them off. The mere washing process alone shattered their will to resist from the shock.
"Once the body's clean, it's time for beauty treatments."
This stage removed every hair from the body except the head. The frames glided along the rail to pause over a massive rectangular vat. Pink liquid bubbled furiously inside, steam rising in clouds. Everything but their faces plunged into the brew and emerged.
"Kuhhoooook...♥︎"
"Okuuuuuuuk...♥︎"
"Kyahaak..!"
Each dunk drew beastly screams as their eyes rolled back.
"Ah, nothing strange about it. We mix aphrodisiac into the depilatory agent. It scalds the skin to kill the roots, so it's agonizing—but we can't damage the merchandise."
"Ah..."
"Plus, it's more effective this way."
Lorella turned away without elaborating. Mahel, who'd been eavesdropping quietly, took over the explanation.
"Hik..!"
Mahel let out a stream of admiring gasps at the malicious body modification. The monster held human ingenuity in high regard—creativity beyond even its reach.
"Next up is..."
"Ohuk... Hoooook...♥︎"
The frames paused mid-transport. A man in an apron gripped a towel rough as sandpaper and scrubbed the female slaves' bodies. Armpits, limbs, pussies, asses—nothing was spared as he scoured away stray hairs. Stubborn ones got yanked out with tweezers.
"Some spots miss the depilatory, so we have to be thorough."
"Ok... Oooook...♥︎"
He pried apart their clenched ass cheeks and tweezed the fine hairs around their assholes.
No greater humiliation for a woman. A few wept from shame, but most were lost in aphrodisiac bliss.
"After depilation, we clean out their insides."
Fully hairless, the women moved along the rail to the next station. A green slime the size of a person writhed there. It shoved its body into the bound women's anuses, pumping them full of its mucus.
"Ok... Hoooook...♥"
Twitch, twitch. Each gush of aphrodisiac-laced slime into their bellies drew lewd moans. In seconds, their lower abdomens bulged like those of pregnant women.
"We get help from monsters here. Humans could do it, but gauging limits is tricky. Slimes inject right up to 99% of what each can handle—perfect."
In other words, until the agony of needing to shit was unbearable.
Enemas complete, anal plugs were jammed in to prevent self-expulsion, sending them onward.
"Ah, things get a little rough from the next stage."
Lorella flashed a devilish grin and clapped her hands.
Whether good or bad... my legs were already trembling at the women's screams echoing ahead.
"Kyaaaaaaaak!!"
"Oguoooook..!♥"
"Higuk! Hik! Hiik!"
Different reactions, different voices. Screams pouring from women sealed inside narrow, barricaded boxes.
I didn't want to know what was happening, but Lorella extended a finger and began explaining each device in turn.
"See the first one? Super-concentrated aphrodisiac gets sprayed there. Soaks them head to toe, then the next stage blows air to force it into their skin."
Just like the beginning. But what followed was terrifying enough to make them piss themselves.
"Body sensitivity cranked to the max, brains melting into idiocy? That's when we stamp the womb tattoo. Slam a red-hot iron brand below the navel, then infuse it with an obedience spell to dye it pink."
As if to prove her words, the lower bellies of women who'd rolled back their eyes and fainted glowed with obscene womb tattoos.
"Normally you'd stitch it painstakingly with inked needles... but time is money, right? Just sear it in with the iron—much better."
In other words, others' suffering meant nothing.
For efficiency, they branded the skin with a glowing-hot iron like cattle.
Cruelty beyond words.
"The womb tattoo is a permanent, indelible brand. No effect right now, but the future owner forces a slave contract, bending her to obedience. Pricey, but insanely effective—huge demand."
No woman, no matter how defiant, could resist a master-servant bond forged by sorcery. With so many men who got off on breaking strong-willed females, the 'womb tattoo brand' had become an essential process.
"Not done yet."
The piss-soaked, limp-breasted slave women dangled like corpses. The rail pressed on, passing through a pale green laser-like beam.
Instantly, the fainted women snapped their eyes open with chirping screams.
"Kihik!"
"Kihahaak!!"
"Heak..!"
The beam agitated the slime stuffed in their guts. Desperate to defecate, they writhed—but their asses stayed sealed by plugs. Drenched in cold sweat, they entered the next stage for etiquette training. Or rather, forced indoctrination.
"Here they learn their place and manners super efficiently. One minute per slave does it."
Blinds covered the slaves' faces, flashing in a riot of colors. Some kind of brainwashing magic that obliterated their humanity and imprinted sow-slave etiquette. Subjectively one minute, but equivalent to over ten years of experience.
"There~ Etiquette-trained slaves get a chance to relieve themselves."
At the rail's end stood a man in an apron. His job was simple: pulling the anal plugs from the potbellied slaves.
Of course, he didn't just pull them out.