He had shaped her. She had wanted to be shaped, even from the beginning, but any craftsman will tell you that the shape in the wood does not come out on its own. He took the beautiful, but raw submission he found within her and he shaped it every bit as finely as any work of art. And she loved every moment of her shaping.
He began with hypnosis. There were other tools he could have used, but none as sure or as rapid. At first, he only used it to make her mind blissfully soft and receptive, melting her thoughts into a perfect focus on the pleasure he provided while he fucked her. As she improved her ability to focus, he drew her attention to other things–the quiet joy of being obedient, the sweet delight of letting herself become passive and tame, even the utter thrill of knowing that her mind was being drawn by his words and his will to her next thought. And as she grew more and more skilled at surrendering her mind, he introduced new techniques to control it.
He began to condition her. Operant conditioning is the easiest, most fundamental tool that humans have for controlling other humans, and he made skillful use of it. He rewarded her compliance with pleasure, sometimes the physical sensation of orgasm and sometimes with praise and attention. He never punished–he never needed to. The bonds of pleasure tightened so inexorably around her will that she craved his rewards like a drug, and all he needed to do was provide her direction to send her eagerly in the direction of obedience. She had lost none of her intelligence, none of her strength of will; instead, it was all directed toward pleasing him. Her morning blowjobs were just one of many signs that she loved to belong to him on a level that she could scarcely have imagined when they began.
Until the day when he collared her, once and for all. He offered her the choice, technically, but they both knew when he showed her the simple metal bracelet that she had long gone past the point of choices. He had smoothed away every last trace of resistance, going over it like a carpenter sanding down a rough patch until even the most sensitive fingers could find no sign it was ever there. He had skillfully transformed her from a woman who wanted to submit into a slave that did, and she begged for the collar when it was presented to her.
There wasn’t even a moment of pain at the ceremony, when he fused the ends of the collar together and the hot metal kissed her for a moment before he cooled it down. She was deep in trance, lost in his will, and she felt only what he wanted her to feel. She only knew that the collar was hers now, never to be removed. She belonged to him, mind and body, for as long as they lived. She wanted that from the beginning, but the woman she was could never have known just how perfect it truly felt. Not until Master had shaped her understanding. And now that she was fully shaped… she loved it all the more.
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