Amyís Bondage
by Raul Roget

Copyrighted material, not for those under 18 years of age.

Chapter 21 - The Confession

"Master, I need to piss."

Georgina reached to the end of the cage, and lifted, testing. Nodding to Glen he picked up the other end and they carried Amy and her cage into the bathroom. Glen had her stand the cage on end in the tub. What little splashed was quickly washed away with the hand spray. Glen wiped her as Georgina got a glass of water, which Amy sipped gratefully.

"Thank you, Master. Thank you, Mistress. If you will put my cage back on the table I will tell you everything."

She would not look either one in the eye. Glen didnít approve.

"Look us in the eye when you talk. We want to see whether to trust your words."

Stung, Amy raised her head and looked first to one, then the other. A twitch of fear made her shiver in the warm room. There were only two in the room with her, but she compared them to a judge and jury. She believed Glen when he said he wouldnít kill her, but moments later she didnít believe him. She was reading all the wrong things into what he said.

"Master, Mistress, I lied, first to you, Master, then to Mistress. I told you of my first experience with sex in high school, but it wasnít the first."

"I have -- had-- a twin sister. We were identical twins, so we dressed the same and could fool anyone. When we were 16 I got into a crowd that was doing drugs. I was hooked overnight and within weeks my habit was so big that I had to earn money on my back. I traded sex for drugs. I got in so deep that I bargained with a big drug dealer to be his whore mistress."

"It was he who taught me to hate -- and fear -- taking anything, even a finger, up my ass. His cock was as big as a horse and he never lubricated it, or me. Heíd call his bodyguards in to watch me get fucked; then heíd let them do the same thing to me. Tiny was a 300 pounder with a cock like a fence post. He ripped me apart the second time he raped me. I spent a week in the hospital and the day I came out the dealer went for my ass and ripped all the stitches. They left me for dead on the hospital lawn. It took three weeks that time and I swore I would never let a man near my ass again.

"I had tried to get help from my sister, but she refused to give me money.† I tricked her into going to the dealer. He thought it was me and beat her up for leaving without permission. Then he locked her in his basement and kept her there. I could have saved her if I had gone to him and owned up to the trick I had played on my sister. I left town, afraid he would discover it and would lock both of us in his playroom."

"I finally met a man who talked me into a drug rehab program. But, by the time I got out, I saw on the news that the dealer had killed my sister with an overdose. It was all my fault and it got my sister killed and turned me into a whore and a liar -- and now youíre going to kill me..."

She began to sob, uncontrollably.

"Oh, shut UP!"† The disgust was plain in his voice. She stopped, like a switch, and looked at him, the fear plain in her eyes.

"Nobody is going to kill you. My gut instinct is to throw you out in the street, but you wouldnít last a week. It looks like Iím stuck with you. Georgina, you and I are going to discuss her future and then weíll come back and let you know whatís going to happen to you. While weíre gone, you be thinking up reasons why we shouldnít dump you somewhere."

Georgina followed him down the stairs to his office. Again he said, "Open time."

"Master, sheís an emotional wreck. Iím surprised she lasted this long. Sheís a walking suicide."

"I agree, but what are we going to do with her? Now that her story is out in the open, sheís probably going to demand that we punish her -- for lying, and for her sisterís death."

"Do you believe her story?"

Glen nodded. "She knows what would happen if she lies again. There may be some more odds and ends, but we just heard the main facts. A pretty heavy burden for one person to lug around."

"What do you plan to do with her? I know what you want to do, but that isnít going to work."

"For right now sheís going to stay in the cage." Georgina nodded in agreement. "Sheís a danger to herself until we can get her some help, and the cage will satisfy her urge to be punished."

"What about that Dr. Steve you mentioned? Perhaps he can help her."

Georgina nodded. "Heís a psychiatrist. I have his number in my purse."

Glen grinned. "Think you can find it in that duffle bag you claim is a purse?"

"I know where everything is -- including my handcuffs and leg irons that you make me carry," she said, primly.

"That came awfully close to a complaint, but we have more important business, so Iíll overlook it. A key problem is that Iím going to need help with her. It takes two to lift that cage, even though she doesnít weigh much over a hundred. Any chance that you could extend your stay here through next week?"†

"If I can get some sleep, I can manage it. I have things pretty well straight at the house, so that I can become your 24/7 slave.

"Well if you donít mind sleeping in chains, thereís a big half of my bed thatís empty."

Her eyes glittered as she broke into a smile. "I was afraid to ask. That would be fine, and I would have no objection to being wakened by my Master at any time."

Glen laughed. "Objecting is a quick road to some pain, so Iím glad you donít have any objections. Right now we need to tell Amy her fate."

Amy stared closely at them as they came into the bedroom, trying to read their expressions. Her heart had been in her throat for the entire time they had been gone and her knuckles were white from the death grip she had on the bars of her cage. Glen peered down at her.

"For now you stay here -- in the cage. This will be your primary punishment for lying. There will be other disciplinary action from time to time and some other things that will have to be arranged. If you donít trust my word, Georgina is still in an Open Time period and she will freely answer any questions or doubts that you have. I have business in my office, so you two will have at least an hour to Ďchatí."

Amy waited until the door closed and she heard his footsteps receding. "Is he planning to kill me? Please. Tell me the truth. I canít go anywhere, locked in this cage. Tell me, please, Mistress. I need to prepare to die."

Her words betrayed a rising hysteria. Georgina reached into the cage and slapped her hard, the smack echoing in the closed room. The shock brought Amy back to at least a semblance of sanity.

"You stupid girl! If he were planning it, you wouldnít know until the last second. He has told you and told you that he is NOT going to kill you. Your Master is in love with you and he is not going to kill someone he loves."

The choice of words was unfortunate, bringing fresh tears to Amyís eyes as she thought of her murdered sister. Georgina reached through the bars and hugged Amy to reassure her. The crying girl shrank from the hand that had slapped her moments before, but quickly leaned into the arms surrounding her.

"Please, Mistress... sniffle... help me. Iím not worthy to live. Kill me, slow and painfully so I have time to regret all the bad things I have done."

Georgina slapped her again, without much power, her arms holding Amy at the same time. "No! You will get no help from me. Master would kill me even more slowly. He doesnít want to lose you. What do you think he has gone through in the past weeks -- you in that cell, rather than in his bed? Now, in a cage, for God knows how long. He ought to slice you into bits with his whip until you smarten up and beg to lie in his bed."

"But. I deserved the cell -- and this cage. I donít belong in his bed any more. He has you, now, " she said, bitterly.

"Amy! Smarten up, girl. We are both slaves. He doesnít love me, he loves you. You could be his wife. Iím almost old enough to be his -- and your -- grandmother. Iím your Mistress at his pleasure. That could change in a single second. How do you think I feel, knowing this is my last chance, last gasp at being devoted enough to a man to be his slave. How many slaves have you seen or heard of that are in their 60's? Not many!"

"Aw, shit! Iíve made a fucking mess of this. I should have told him the truth right off the bat."

"Yes, you should have. Itís too late now. Your lie has caused a lot of problems for all three of us and the mess isnít cleaned up yet. You are going to have to fly the straight and narrow if you expect to regain his trust in you. From what Iím told, you two got off to a wonderful start. If you toe the mark you can probably get that mutual trust back. Right now you are going to have to trust us to take care of you, protect you, and yes, punish you."

"Hmpff! Fat lot of care or protection I need in here. All Iíll get out of this is punishment. In case you hadnít noticed there are studs all over this damn cage."

"Amy, I hardly have to remind you that the cage was your idea..."

Amy interrupted, "But with Masterís refinements. He can take a simple stick and modify it into something that hurts like Hell. These studs are a perfect example. This cage might be livable without them. With them itís a nightmare."

Georgina sighed. "Iím afraid youíre going to have to learn to live with it, as youíre not going anywhere until Master says so."

"Do I have to beg for punishment, or do I get it anyway?"

"If youíre smart, youíll thank him with all the humbleness you can muster for your cage and you will beg politely for any suitable punishment your Master decides you deserve, besides living in a cage."

"I guess I can live with that. Are you going to whip me again?"

"If Master tells me to. I donít like to whip a sister slave, but orders... are orders."

The mention of whips reminded Georgina. She went to the bathroom and got the ointment to put on Amyís welts. It stung in the rawer spots, but a close inspection showed that Amy had survived the whipping with a few welts, a lot of angry red skin but only a handful of actual breaks, where whip marks crossed each other. All of them were minor, one drop affairs.

Georginaís cell phone rang. Glen was calling her, wanting her to come to the office.

He reminded her she was still on Open Time.

"What do you think?"

"She needs more help than we can give her. I had to slap her twice to head off some hysterics. She calmed down and was pretty rational. She is hounded by guilt, though."

"Still talking about my killing her?

"At first, but she got over it, pretty much. She trusts me, even though she thinks Iíve taken her place in your bed. She accepts the cage as punishment, but she blamed you for the studs. She obviously wants more discipline, but sheís on a thin line. Too much could wreck her permanently."

"Iíll call Dr. Steve and see what he thinks we should do."

"I found his number."

He took the slip and jotted the number down on a pad.

"Go back and talk to her. Keep her talking, but keep coming back to her being safe here, she wonít get kicked out and she wonít get killed."

"I told her you love her."

"She knows that."

"Master, it wouldnít hurt to remind her of it at least once a day. Sheís pretty fragile. Sheís talked herself into not trusting you."

"Sheís tougher than shoe leather. Look at what she went through in the last 24 hours."

"Physically, yes. Mentally, a big question mark."

"Alright! Iíll tell her I love her. Happy now?"

She gave him a very meek "Yes, Master."

Mollified, he apologized. "Iím sorry, I told you to speak freely."

"Master, at the risk of your anger, you need never apologize to a slave, for anything. You are the Master, the ruler. Your word is law, your actions toward your slave are your choice. A slave has to thank you for anything you do to, or for her because it is a benefit of their slavery."

"Good advice."

"Master, I have violated what I just told you. I failed to thank you for allowing me to speak freely. I beg punishment."

"Remind me later. I need to make the call."

Glen got the receptionist and asked for Dr. Steve. The girl asked if he was a patient.

"No, but I have a very critical situation at my home that I need to talk to him about."

"Just a moment."

"This is Dr. Steve. Whatís the problem?"

From Georginaís details Glen knew the Doctor was active in the scene, so he wasted no time on sparring. He condensed Amyís problems into a five-minute summary.

"Iím going to need to see her. "You say sheís in a cage?"

"For her own protection and part of her punishment for lying to me. She asked to be put in."

"Glen, with the problems sheís having with her sisterís death. Ií d better come over. Whatís your address?


Dr. Steve was driving a black Mercedes SUV. He pulled into the empty garage stall and Glen was there to greet him.

The Doctor was tall and thin, with a narrow goatee on a very handsome face. Glen noted the wedding band on his left hand as they shook hands and then talked as he led the Doctor up to his bedroom.

As soon as the Doctor entered the room he took charge. Georgina automatically knelt, recognizing his power. She mused, thinking if half the rumors sheíd heard about him were true he had to be an outstanding Master. Dr. Steve noted her reaction and nodded pleasantly to her.

Dr. Steve looked at the cage, and used the exam to also look at Amy, gauging her reaction to him. He introduced himself as Master Steve to her and then reached in with his stethoscope to listen to Amyís heart and lungs. Amy flinched from the cold metal, but her warm skin quickly took the chill out of it. He examined every inch of skin. He muttered, more to himself, "Well whipped."

After a thorough exam, he backed away and began to question her.

"Do you know why you are in this cage?"

"Master, I deserve to be in here. I murdered my sister and I lied to my Master."

"Why do you think you had anything to do with your sisterís death?"

"Master, we were twins. I got involved with a drug dealer and she got mixed into it and he killed her. It should have been me!"

She burst into tears and hid her head in her arms.

"Amy, why did you lie to your Master?"

"It was that drug dealer I was involved with. I didnít want him to know I had anything to do with drugs."

"Did you do drugs back then?"

"Yes, Master. But, Iíd get depressed from them. I had to stop."

"Then you arenít using drugs now?"

"No, Master."

"Amy, do you still feel depressed?"

"I... donít know. Iím still confused from being in this cage, but I donít think so. This lie bothered me so much."

"Amy, did you ever think of suicide?"

"Right after my sister died... but, not recently."

"Would you like to get out of this cage someday and be your Masterís slave again?"

"Oh, yes, Master. I would like to be his wife someday."

"You arenít afraid youíd be killed?"

"I thought they were going to kill me with their whips. But Georgina talked to me and told me I was imagining it, that it wasnít true."

Dr. Steve smiled and gripped her hand.

She wanted to say more, but she was still afraid that she might say the wrong thing and lose Glen.

"Good. Iíll talk to you again."

"Yes, Master. Thank you."

Chapter 22 - The Snatch

Dr. Steve and Glen started to walk out the door. Glen motioned to Georgina to come with them, so she followed them down the stairs and knelt beside Glenís chair while the two men talked.

Dr. Steve surprised both of them:

"Sheís nowhere near as bad as she sounds. I think at least some of that ĎYouíll kill meí is some sort of act. Sheís in good physical shape so a week or even two is not going to hurt her and might even do some good. She has lived with this lie for more than a decade so if you can get her on an even keel she should start to get over it. I do think that part of her problem is jealousy of this slave." He nodded toward the kneeling woman.

"How old are you, 40, 45?"

She looked at Glen for permission. He nodded.

"Iím 61, Master."

Dr. Steveís face showed surprise. "I donít usually miss a womanís age by that much. Youíve kept yourself well."

"Thank you, Master."

"Has she shown any signs of jealousy?"

"Yes, Master. She was bitter about my taking her place in Masterís bed. I talked with her for nearly an hour while Master was deciding what to do with her. I told her that I was old enough to be her grandmother and that Master loves her."

Dr. Steve was surprised again. He looked at Glen who grinned in confirmation.

"That might explain the charade sheís playing. Sheís in love with you?"

Glen nodded.

"Very likely sheís acting, to try and get you back. I suspect that sheís a raging masochist, trying to get you to punish her more and more. Even if all her story about her twin sister is true, it is something she could have easily told you the first day."

Glen nodded again and admitted, "More than once I wanted to whip the hide right off of her. From what youíre saying I think I understand her moods a little better."

"Sheís in need of some TLC so treat her gently for the next couple of days. Give her some aspirin three times a day to get her system back in shape. You two did one of the most thorough whippings that Iíve seen in a long time, with remarkably little skin damage."

Glen agreed. "She took a lot more pain than I could stand. I would have lasted about five minutes, not 24 hours."

"OK, call me if thereís any change or problems healing. Stick some Band-Aids on the nicks and that should do it."

Meanwhile Amy was getting acquainted with her cage and it was a meeting that was very one-sided. Amy didnít like the cage at all. Actually she hated it and that hatred grew by the minute as the cage showed her its capacity to create pain just sitting there.

Her mental state perhaps was not quite as calm as Dr. Steve was suggesting. Her thoughts refused to stay on any one subject for more than a few seconds. Interspersed with pauses to absorb new pain from some part of the cage, she thought of the series of events which put her here, in a cage, sitting on a table top, her wrists and ankles chained. All that was lacking was a blindfold and a gag and she would be suffering her worst nightmare.

However, there was a small nagging part of her that thrilled to her bondage and even gave her an itch for more. She fought the feeling, already certain that she was scheduled for more pain than she cared to handle.

Dr. Steve was certainly right on one count. He pegged her perfectly as a masochist and one with an off-scale capacity for pain. The latter point he had kept to himself for the moment, but he was smart enough to know that Glen had already picked up on it. He thought about her as he drove toward his home. On an impulse he changed directions and headed for the Judgeís house.

Two days went by. Amyís nicks and dents were healing nicely. She and her cage had reached something of an impasse. The cage continued to hurt her, but she was able to blank the pain to a survivable level. Neither Glen nor Georgina made any effort to inquire whether the cage was bothering her. They relied entirely on Dr. Steveís advice. After several outbursts of apologetic speeches, Glen ordered her to silence, to speak only in answer to a direct question.

All in all she was being treated very nearly the same as they had before the cage. She was still on bread and water, now laced with vitamins. Since she was in the bedroom rather than the cell, she was treated to a ringside seat as Glen put Georgina through her sexual paces. He allowed her to watch the first evening. After that she was blindfolded, but she could easily visualize what they were doing by the grunts and moans and rattle of chains.

She seemed to ignore the activity on the bed, but she was actually scheming as to how to get back in Glenís good graces and replace the old granny in his bed, Much of what Georgina had told her was lost in her mind, blanketed by newfound jealousy. She hated Glen at the same time that she loved him. Hated him for deliberately taking granny and placing her beside him on the bed. Hated him for rubbing her nose in what she couldnít have. At the same time loving him for the pain he was causing her. To say that Amy was complex would be very true.

A slight noise jarred her from fitful sleep. At least she thought she was awake, but she had just been dreaming about a dungeon crowded with slaves. Perhaps one of them had made the dream noise.

She screamed when a hand clamped over her mouth, muffling it to a whisper. She had dreamed this dream before. Her lungs empty she gasped for breath, suddenly cut off by a heavy leather gag that covered the lower half of her face and went down her neck to press on her collar. She felt the hand, but that was not enough to take it out of the dream category.. Her bondage dreams always were vivid and, as she had shown Glen, left lasting marks when she was whipped, or even pinched.

She could feel, but she couldnít see, except for her vivid imagination. The thick blindfold let in no light at all. She felt the leather straps pull taut, jamming her into the sides and roof of the cage, most right on top of the marks fading from her 24-hour ordeal. This time they were even tighter. Amy knew that they would leave even deeper marks, awake or asleep.

The sudden shock of being bound again left her dazed. She recognized that she was in Ďherí cage, but why would Glen suddenly bind her so tightly? The question hung, unanswered as she felt the cage lift from the bricks holding it above the table top. There were two people carrying the cage. Amy assumed that it was Glen and Georgina. Were they taking her back to the cell?

She heard the soft murmur of voices. Both were men. Amy was immediately confused. Who was the second man? Was it the Doctor who had visited her?

She was carried to the basement and beyond. This dream was getting too real. She felt a jolt as the cage was laid on the tailgate of a pickup truck and then slid into the box. She heard a heavy canvas fall onto the cage, feeling it on her elbows, which were hooked over a crossbar in the top of the cage.

The trip was lengthy, at least for Amy. The driver seemed to pick a route through every pothole and bump, jarring the cage and punishing Amy as she was thrown against the studs.

The truck slowed to a halt, turned sharply and then backed in through a door she faintly heard open. The truck stopped and she heard the door closed. The tailgate dropped with a clang and the cage slid out. Hands carried it, lifting, then placing it on a hand cart. She could feel the wheels, smooth until they bumped over a door sill. She heard a laugh, close to her head, gleeful.

She flashed back to her husband. He had laughed at her like that, while he beat her with his fists in a drunken stupor.

She was right. It was the laugh of a sadist, that she was about to meet on a very personal level. She wished desperately that she had a hand free to pinch herself awake.

The voice lifted her cage with one meaty hand and placed it on a stand. She waited, expecting the straps to be loosened. Her skin still smarted from the bumps in the road. The voice made no move to release anything. She could hear him walking around her cage, humming a cheerful, tuneless tune, obviously very pleased with something.

Suddenly fingers touched her gag. It was unbuckled and pulled away from her mouth. The words tumbled out like a dam bursting.

"Whatís going on? Where am I? Why isnít Glen here? Release me at once!"

She was answered by the whine of a whip, striking deftly between the bars. She screamed in response, in total shock.

The voice sneered in her ear.

"Well, missy, you got yerself a problem. "Yess Sir Ree, you gotta problem!" The whip punctuated his words.

"Shut that fucking youp of yers. This is my place, and you live by my rules. First rule. You NEVER say diddly shit unless I asks you to or tell you to. Second rule. You answer every question then you beg for a stroke of my whip. Iím damned if Iíll waste any time listening to you twats without I gets to tan your hide. You unnerstand?"

"Yes, Master. Please hit me with your whip for talking to you."

"Now thatís what I like my cunts to do. ĎCept you called me Master. My name is SIR! So you gets two."

"Thank you Sir for punishing me."


"Cruddy imbecile! Did I tell you to thank me? No, you stupid fart. Your ass is in a cage. Iím outside, but I can reach you any damn time I please, so shut that mouth hole of yours up, Ďtil I tells you."

Amy quivered, scared out of her wits. Suddenly the voice was close to her ear again.

"You Ďn me are going to have a leetle welcoming drink, right about now. Only, you get to drink, while I enjoy."

Amyís face was flattened against the bars but there was just enough room to open her mouth. She prayed heíd be satisfied with just a blow job.

The intruder was big, by any standard, but Amy was able to pry her jaw a little bit farther and take it. She gagged slightly as it reached her throat, drawing a quick slice on her hip.

He slid in and out of her mouth, all the while regaling her with his plans for her pussy and her ass hole, scaring her more with each breath. She was so rattled she almost touched him with her teeth, drawing a warning with an unspecified punishment that would "wreck her tits."

What scared her even more was when he began talking about the other cages and their inmates.

"Got a cute little gal in number 14, in a cage about like yern. Sheís got tits that wonít quit. I offered to slap them around, just to get some blood flowing in Ďem but she went all crazy on me.

I offered 20 on the soles of her feet if she didnít beg nice for five on her nips. She farted around and I jest had to slam her feet and her boobs, both. She didnít want to thank me, so I give her five more on her pussy. Amazing how a pussy pop or two will straighten out every one of them little cocksuckers."

Amy sucked harder. Thee voice began anew. "Speaking of sucking cock, that tight little bitch in 17 is a whole lot better than you. I should take you down there and let her teach you while I rake her ass a time or two with Old Betsy, here. Her pussy would choke a nightcrawler. I jest about have to pry her apart to get into her, and then she flops like a gut hooked trout, claiming Iím too rough on Ďer. Iím along for the ride, but when Iím done she gets several lessons from Old Betsy until sheís begging me to come back and do Ďer agin."

Amy was shivering with fright, which perhaps helped in persuading the voice to fill her mouth. He stopped his horror story, just long enough to warn her not to lose a drop.

Abruptly the voice moved away. "Gotta go ream out number 33. Sheís due for a hog up her ass."

His voice faded into distance, but she could hear his heavy boots hitting the floor for several seconds. She could hear other sounds, perhaps muffled screams. She wondered if there were other cages close by that could hear her own screams. She swallowed, filling her throat. Dimly she realized the voice was now her jailer.

She listened. It was all she dared to do. She didnít dare think. That would distract her. She had already learned that the jailerís word was law and that she must obey instantly. She had to listen for him to come back to her cage. Then she would have to listen to every word he spoke, ready to respond to any question, beg for the proper punishment. There was no time to think beyond that point. She fought down the repeated memories of Ralph. This sadist so much like the one she had escaped from. She continued to listen, until she fell asleep.

Old Betsy woke her up, yelling. She was punished for the yell.

"Stupid dumb cocksucker! I tells you when to sleep and when to shine those baby blues at me. I did NOT tell you you could take a nice comfortable nap." Whap! Whap! Whap!

She accepted the blows, but the words hurt. She wondered when the last time was that she was comfortable. Her memory now didnít go back beyond the cage. She did remember the beating she had received, but nothing before that. Right now she had a duty to preform.

"Thank you for hitting me, Sir. Please, Sir, hit me for bothering you."


"Dumb bunny, always bothering a man so he canít get no rest. Now shut the fuck up, get to sleep and quit bothering me!"

Amy fumed. Whipped for sleeping only to be told to go back to sleep. This was one son of a bitch.

She was whipped again for what she assumed was morning. She still wore the blindfold, so she could see nothing of the jailer or her surroundings. Her ears were constantly alert for any sounds that might signal a new whipping or some other problem. She continued to hear vague noises that she translated as sounds of pain.

She had to suck his cock to start the morning. He pulled out and spurted on her hard bread, then fed it to her, grumbling with every breath about having to waste his time with the girls in his cages. She had to thank him for wasting his time feeding her and ask for an extra for Ďgood serviceí as well as the usual.

The jailer seemed to have plenty of time to spend describing the other inmates in the grossest of terms. Amy was his silent audience of one, forced to listen on pain of a thrashing with Old Betsy. If she could have had time to think she might have realized that the numbers mentioned by the jailer were far too many for one man to take care of. She wondered when she would get to drain her overfull bladder.

Almost is if he were reading her thoughts, he paused, "Sípose you gotta piss, like them other weak-bladdered bitches?"

"Yes, Sir. Please hit me for bothering you."


The cage was picked up and set on end over a hole in the floor.

"One drop on the bars and youíll regret it."

Blindly she released, to be overwhelmed by a string of curses.

"God dammed stupid piss cow. You pissed all over everything!"

"Whap! Whap!

"Try this for size, you bitch!"

A hard jet of ice cold water hit her full in the face, then traveled down her body until she was shivering with cold. The jet opened her labia, driving inside her, but it did clean her up.

†Whap! Whap!

"Wastiní† water on a dumb broad like you. Jest be thankful I didnít piss on you."

"Thank you, Sir, for cleaning me. Please hit me for bothering you."


Without a word the jailer walked out of the room. Amy could hear his voice, talking to someone. The talking stopped. She could hear the jailerís boots going down a long corridor. Then there were footsteps in the room.

"Slave, do you know why you are here?"

It was a different voice. More cultured, but stern.

"Sir... I donít know. I canít remember. Please, Sir, hit me for bothering you."

"That wonít be necessary. The jailer has his rules. I have mine. What do you remember?"

"Sir, I remember I was beaten for a long time, with whips. It had something to do with this cage, but I donít remember what."

"Do you remember your Master?"

"Master? Sir, I was beaten by the jailer for calling him Master."

"I mean your real Master, the one who put you in this cage."

"I... thought I put myself in this cage, Sir."

"In a way you did, but your Master locked you in."

"Is that why you addressed me as Ďslave?"í

"Yes, but thatís not important at the moment. "Do you know why you were put in this cage?"

"Sir, Iím sorry, I donít remember."

"You told your Master a lie. And he punished you for it."

Amy began sobbing. "Iím sorry, Sir. I didnít know."

"Then, you donít know what you lied about either?"

"No, Sir, I donít."

"Are you lying to me, right now?"

"Oh, God, NO! I lied once, Sir. I will not lie again. Never!"

"You donít know me, but I am the judge. If I think you are lying, your stay here will be permanent!"

"Please, Sir. I am not lying. I am so confused by what is happening to me. I canít remember."

"That will do for now. Weíll talk again."

Chapter 23 - Fantasy or Reality

Before long she heard the jailerís heavy steps coming down the corridor. She was still mulling over her conversation with the man who said he was a judge. Her inattention could be dangerous. She quickly focused on the sounds he was making, anxious to please him, to placate his whip, to obey instantly.

His humming had an angry tone, yellow jackets ready to sting. She shuddered, visualizing what he might do to her. She resigned herself to remaining strapped to the bars, unable to move, every muscle in her body cramping. She almost lost her concentration, momentarily forgetting who he was.

"Son Ďm bitch! That judgeís wife really thinks sheís some pretzels, carryiní on like she owns this Goddam place. Crazy cunt tries to pull rank. ĎIím the judgeís wifeí," he simpered, in a surprisingly feminine voice.

"Olí judge, he donít take kindly to his wife screwiní the pool boy, so he dumps her down here in a cage that makes yourín look like a 10-story mansion. He had the cage made with straps with about two inches between Ďem and a one-inch stud on every crossing. Made the bitch step into it and then welded the top on. She ainít goiní nowhere!"

"Wired the witch up, too. Sheís got a wire stuck up her beaver that musta gone to heaven. Tuther one is bunched up in a knot up her shit chute. Hooked to a box and then to the phone line. He comes in after five and shows her his phone. He dials the office number and when it rings, she tried to crawl out one of them two-by-two holes. Screamin and a hollerin like she was getting raped. ĎCourse nobody in the office, so it rings, and rings and rings. He finally shuts his phone off and she falls over like a wet dishrag. Bet she was so limp we coulda pulled her right out of there through one of them holes, with most of her hide."

"Wanna bet she wonít go within five miles of that pool boy -- or anything else with a dick."

Amy opened her mouth to answer what sounded like a question, but he was full of himself and kept right on talking.

"I fixed her good. Ol Judge gave me a tube of itch cream. I stuck it through the bars and stuck my cattle prod into her belly and suggested perlightly that she rub a bunch of it into her titties. She opened her mouth to call me a bad name and I nailed her. Two seconds knocked her wind out and she puked up lunch. Had to hold that rod right up agin her, but she licked up every drop. Bet that stale bread really tasted good her second time."

"Anyway, after rappin her knucks sharp-like I got her slathering on that itch cream like it was rare skin cream. Got her a dollop and stuck it up her pussy and another right below it. Then I made her stick some up her nose and in her ears and then locked her cuffs down so she couldnít reach ter scratch."

"Time I got done she was begging sumpin fierce, promising to suck my dick, or do anything I chose. Made a tape of it and took it up to Ol Judge. He kinda grinned and said, real quiet, ĎIíll fix her for thatí."

"Did, too. Itís Friday. Her phone is ringiní off the hook. Nobody will answer it Ďtil Monday. Bet he wishes Monday was a holiday."

He stopped talking. She heard him get up. Close to her head he ordered, "Getís boring watching you relaxiní in your nice cage. Tell you what, you think up a game we can play and it will pass the time."

Without hesitation she described the game she had ready for this very order. "You can lock my wrists and ankles at the four corners of the top of the cage, letting me hang. You assign a number from one to 100 to each of the four. You tap on the hand or foot with your cane. I have to guess the number. If Iím right, you go to the next. If I guess wrong, I get a slash with the cane."

"Now, thatís my kind of game! Iím aígonna change them rules a bit. If you donít guess within five, you get two. Smarty ass, you thought youíd get away with jest one."

He paused to write the numbers down, mumbling to himself. At least he was in a better mood than earlier. Amy didnít dare think of the consequences if took a liking to the game he might keep on playing for hours. He had said the judge was gone, so they were probably alone in the building, other than the unknown number of caged women, none of whom would dare raise an objection.

Fifteen minutes was all he could take before wandering off to check on other cages. Amy gave a sigh of relief after he left. Both her hands and feet had suffered in that short a time. Before he left he made her suggest that he flip the cage over and let her support it with those sore hands and feet. The cool surface of the stand felt good, but that lasted only a few moments. Fortunately he didnít replace the straps, so she was allowed some movement.

She screamed when he suddenly spoke in her ear, "Ready ter play sumímor?"

Amy cursed herself for not hearing him come. He was giggling, a high pitched sound that rubbed her ears raw. He had taken his boots off and returned on silent stocking feet. She forced the words, "Yes, Sir. Please hit me for bothering you." The last two words got unintended emphasis, not lost on the jailer.


"You, bitch. You tryin to make fun of me? Iíll slice yer ass nine ways from Sunday!"


"No, Sir! Please, Sir. I didnít mean anything. Please, Sir, Hit me for bothering you."


"I think yer lying, just like you did before. Damn well better not fun me or you and Mr. Crate there are gonna take a long, long walk, clear to the other side of the building and back. Old Betsy will make damn sure yer sore and sorry, time you gets back."

Amy was on the verge of hyperventilating. She was choking, feeling the jailerís hands tightening on her neck. She desperately wanted to deny that she was lying, but he hadnít asked a question so she could expect the worst. She wanted to talk to him -- anyone -- who knew anything about this lie he mentioned. It had totally blanked out of her mind. But she didnít have time to think about that. The jailer was in the room with her and he wanted to play, so she had no choice but to listen intently. She didnít have to wait long.

"Sípose you got sumpiní up your sleeve -- hee hee hee -- to keep US from gettiní bored?"

Amy didnít know whether to laugh with him at his crude joke, or cry. She couldnít remember anything on her body but steel and leather straps. For that matter, she really wasnít quite sure what a sleeve was. Just that it sounded funny to the jailer. If she just had a few moments to think...

She had no idea where the idea came from until she heard her own voice saying, "Sir, may I lick your feet? Please hit me for bothering you."

"Ainít it sumpiní the way a cage and Old Betsy kicks them bright idees out, just like clockwork. Here, slut, start with this one."

She heard him grunt as he pulled the sock off and shoved his foot through the bars. She smelled it coming. Her stomach revolted, before retreating in helpless submission.

A half hour later his feet were sparkling clean for the first time in days or perhaps weeks. Amy remained on the verge of puking the entire time, so close she didnít even dare think the word. She knew the jailer would take it as a personal insult and she would suffer the consequences.

She heard him yawn and then prepare for bed. First he picked up her cage and upended it over the hole.

"See if fer once you can miss them bars," he complained.

She didnít and he cussed her and slugged her with the high pressure hose. He picked up the cage and slammed it down on the stand, hurting her hands and feet that were still locked to the corners.

Close to her ear again he advised her, "Iím gonna sleep right over there. I hear one peep -- even heavy breathiní -- yer gonna wish the sun never comes up in the mornin."

Amy wished for the straps. They at least had supported her body. Now she was on her hands and feet, her body arched between them. She could move at last, but the cost in sore muscles was substantial. Her back felt like he had beaten her with a wooden beam.

She ignored the soreness. The jailer was in the room. She must play close attention to the slightest sound. She didnít want him to sneak up on her again.

She relaxed imperceptibly when he started snoring gently. The cage made a slight noise. The jailerís snoring stopped and he stirred. Had he heard it? She prayed to some unknown God that he would go back to sleep. Moments later he was snoring again.

It gave her time to think. She stared into the darkness of her blindfold, trying to reassemble a life that ended abruptly with her entering the cage. Both the judge and the jailer had mentioned her lying. If they knew about it, it must be important. It must be something before the cage. Perhaps it even had something to do with the cage.

She hated the cage, hated every minute in it. That might be intentional. She was being punished for lying, so it was likely that they -- who are they? -- they picked something she hated, to punish her with.

But, how did Ďtheyí know that she hated it? She must have told them, but why? She remembered that she had told them what the lie was, but for the moment at least she could not remember what the lie was about. She decided there was a distinct connection between the lie and the cage. There were still dozens of pieces of the puzzle that she couldnít find in her memory.

As she searched, she finally realized that Ďtheyí were Glen and Georgina. The judge had asked about her Master. That must be Glen. She tried, but couldnít picture his face. She resigned herself. It would come in time.

Georgina didnít fit in her memory in any way. Nobody had mentioned her. But, she was there when the cage appeared. She helped Master whip her, so she belonged in the picture. Her face was as blank in her memory as her Masterís. Why was she there at all?

At a dead end, she concentrated on the lie. Perhaps it had something to do with her past. This triggered a momentary flash of her, standing nude before a faceless figure that must be her Master.

Master. That means... She searched for the word. ĎSlave.í Thatís what the Judge called her. She connected that pair of dots. She was Masterís slave. She had lied to her Master and he put her in the cage she wanted...† She wanted?† She sighed in exasperation. The snoring stopped. The jailer turned over and resumed snoring.

Why did she want the cage? She was coming up with questions far faster than she was finding answers. Why was she taken suddenly to this place? Why was she given to the jailer. What did the judge have to do with everything. Her head reeled with unanswered questions. She fell asleep searching.

Old Betsy snapped her awake. Leering at her the jailer snarled in her ear, "Woke me twice you nimcompoop. Told yer!"

Whap! Whap!

When she was fed and watered, he unbolted† her wrists and ankles.

"Time for crawlies. Not much room in there, so you concentrate on swappin ends. You kiss the bars every time and turn right back around. You count. If it ainít enuff when I get back Iíll carve my initials with Ol Betsy on you hind end. ĎSpect if you hurries youíll get a bruise or two. Tough titty! Git!"


"Just a two-bit minute! Whatíd I tell you to do?"

"Kiss the bars, Sir. Please hit me for talking to you."


"Did I say, ĎKiss the bars at each end?"í

"No, Sir. Please hit me for talking to you."


"No, you skanky slut. I did NOT say that. You kiss every damn bar EVERY time you go by them. All of them! Is that clear or do I have to spell it out for yer?"

"No, Sir! I will kiss each bar. Please hit me for talking to you."

Whap! "Git!" Whap!

She kissed and counted each bar, contorting her stiff body to reach the corners. The exercise was actually good for her, the first time in days she could move around. The mental exercise of counting seemed to be beneficial too.

Over her own movements she heard footsteps. She pancked momentarily but recognized that it was not the jailerís boots. She heard a pleasant deep voice"

"Remember me? Iím Dr. Steve, your doctor. You call me Master."

"May I ask why, Sir?"

"Simply because you are a slave and that is the standard form of address. Either Master or Sir."

"Thank you, Master, for answering my question. Please hit me for talking to you."

"I donít have my whip with me, so you neednít say that. I want to talk to you without interruptions."

"Yes, Master. I have many questions."

"I can answer some, but probably not all of your questions. I understand you donít remember much beyond when you crawled into this cage."

"No, Master, but it is slowly coming back to me. I remember you visiting me when I was new to the cage."

"You donít remember lying to Glen, your Master?"

"I was told that I had lied; but nobody told me what the lie was about, or what connection it has with this cage."

"What if I told you that you had a twin sister. Do you remember her?"

"Nnnoo, Master... Yes! I do remember. Sue!"

"Sheís dead." He jolted her, waiting to see her reaction.

"I killed her!" she wailed. The floodgates opened spewing memories into her mind.

"You didnít kill her. It was an unfortunate mess, I checked. There was nothing you did that caused it. Nothing at all."

"Then THAT is what I lied about, isnít it?"

"Partly. You hid your relationship with the drug dealer and the anal rape you suffered. If your Master hadnít touched you there, you would never have revealed it."

"Iím truely sorry, Master. I lied this once, but I have learned my lesson. I will never lie again. Ever."

"Never say never, or it may come back to bite you. The important thing is that you have a very rough and rocky road to gaining back your Masterís trust. A lie may be forgiven but it is never forgotten in our special world."

"Master, I have another question. That woman... who whipped me. Is she a slave too?"

"Yes. Her name is Georgina. She talked with you after you went in the cage. You were jealous of her."

"I still am, Master. She was stealing my Master from me."

"Slave, thatís not true. Youíve just earned punishment for doubting a Masterís word. Iíll wait until later to punish you. Pull that stunt on your Master and youíll be really hurting."

Chapter 24 - Release

Dr. Steve stooped and looked her over. The nicks were healing nicely and he could barely see the fresh marks from the jailerís whip, even though there were a lot of them. He suppressed a knowing grin. The jailerís penchant for a whip was well known in local circles.

"Do you feel alright after your whipping?"

"Yes, Master. The worst are the studs. Iíve had terrible cramps."

"Not much that can be done for that. Keep moving and get as much exercise as you can."

"Master, when can I get out of here?"

"I frankly donít think youíre ready yet. Anyway, itís up to the judge. Heís not convinced that you arenít lying about some other things. If he does find youíve lied again, youíre going to be the jailerís permanent play toy."

"Oh, God! Anything but that!"

"Youíd better pray to your saints that he didnít hear that. He doesnít take insults well."

"Master, is there anything -- anything -- that I can do to convince the judge to let me go back to my Master?"

"Iím told you have a fertile imagination when it comes to games you can play in your cage. A couple of nasty ideas for the judge to use on his wife wouldnít hurt. You know sheís in a cage down the hall?"

"Master, the jailer has been telling me about her, with all the gory details."

"Otherwise, do your very best to stay out of trouble and stay on the good side of the jailer. He might be the key to getting out of here."

Dr. Steve left abruptly, his last words hanging on her mind. The one passing comment from the jailer on her lie left her with little to go on. Besides, she not only was under strict orders to speak only when asked a question, he never gave her an opening to break the rule.

The jailer snuck up on her again. She shrieked when he suddenly said in her ear, "Have a good chat with the Doctor, slut?"

"Yes, sir. But he didnít tell me how long Iím in for. Please, Sir, hit me for talking to you."

Whap! Whap! And, Whap!

"Thatís for makiní noise when Iím atalkiní at you, and for sneakiní in a question when yer ainít síposed to. Dummy! Ol judge was síposed to tell yer. He said 10 days. You can do that standiní on yer head. ĎSides, heís so tickled with fixing that snooty bitch wife of hisín he might even lop a day or two off that."

He dug the tip of Old Betsy into her ribs to make a point.

"Thatís not to say the judge is a mamby pamby. You screw up again and heíll find a cage fer you down so deep they have to bring sunshine in a five gallon bucket. That man is mean right down to his toenails. Just this morning he goes by her cage and she calls him Ďbastard.í Stupid fucker thinks she can get away with it."

"Ol judge, he gits a hunert-ten volt vibrator, Ďbout like what they use on construction to get the air bubbles out of the cement, with a harness on it. Sticks that through the bars, unlocks her cuffs, showsíer the cattle prod, and aks her sweet to stick it in her mouth and tighten them straps down to the last hole."

"Sheís a blubberiní and a belleriní, begginí him to forgive and forget, so he zaps her right in the tit. Man, she Ďbout rolled that steel cage right on its side. She quit screaming fast when she saw his finger on the button. She had that tool strapped down in nothin flat, shakin her head like she was atwisting it off."

"Ol judge he made a big thing outta showin her the control box. Pointed out all the features, like one second or forever, low, medium, high and damn high. He showed her. Pushed the forever button and top speed and turned it on. Shit, that puny little thing cudda rocked a freight car load of coal. Her head was doiní the hula from start on. She tried to open her mouth but them straps kept her shut and you could hear her teeth arattliní Ďgainst that metal dong clear to hell an gone out on the street."

"He warnít done either. Leaves her for an hour or so, then comes back, shuts off, straps her feet to the bars and spells Ďbastardí with the prod -- on each foot. One for each letter. She squawks and yells duriní the whole spelliní lesson, but when he tells her to shut her food hole or heíll do her hands, she got quiet as a mouse. Like I say, heís mean down ter his toenails."

Amy, forced to listen to all this, was horrified by the tale the sadistic jailer was telling. Her nerves were jangling and her stomach was threatening revolt again. Still, she had to make nice to this crude man, who stood between her and the judge. Her thinking process was slowly returning to normal and she realized that one wrong word could lead to a bad report to the judge that could keep her here indefinitely.

She wanted badly to go back to Glen, but she assumed that he too would want to keep her in the cage indefinitely. The one key element was that she wouldnít have to put up with the jailer. That alone was enough to put her on the straight and narrow. If for no other reason, she didnít want the jailer talking about her discipline problems to the other unseen inmates. What if they were being solicited by the jailer for punishments for her? She wished Dr. Steve had been more specific.

Thinking around the jailer was dangerous. She narrowly escaped missing his remark that he had told the judgeís wife that she had suggested it. He didnít tell her that it was not intended for her, but he got his kicks out of describing the promises of murder or worse if she got her hands on Amy for suggesting it. This was another imminent and potential danger, From the sound of it, the wife was due to grow grey hair before she could hope to come out of the welded cage, but it didnít hurt to be extra careful.

He finally quit, confident he had thrown another scare into Amy, aroused by his control over her. Morning and evening blow jobs were draining him, but he got a stiff pecker every time he saw her in her little cage. He ordered her to crawl and felt a distinct jolt in his hard-on as he paused for a moment to watch her kiss each bar.

Fresh footsteps came down the hall. They reached the door before she tentatively recognized them as the judge.

"Getting along all right?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You may stop crawling while I am here. Remember any more of your past?"

"Yes, Sir. Itís coming back in bunches. But there are gaps."

"You remember your lie?

"Yes, Sir. I lied to cover my drug addiction and my sisterís death. Iíve been told that my sisterís death was something I had nothing to do with."

"Are you lying now?"

"NO, SIR! I have sworn never to lie again. I have caused my Master and others big problems with my lie. I donít want to do that again."

"Youíre in love with your Master?"

"Yes, sir. I would like to be his wife, if I can get this mess straightened out."

"Iím dead set against a Master marrying his slave. Itís very likely to cause some real problems. I assume your Master is in love with you?"

"Yes, Sir. Despite all that he has put me through, which I richly deserved , and all that Iíve put him through, I hope he still loves me."

"Hnfp," he grunted. "Iím going to have to have a long talk with him, before I release you. I will warn you again, the slightest hint of a lie, or a problem right here, and you will be here until I retire."

"Yes, Sir! I am trying my best to learn the rules and follow them to the letter."

"You know your sentence is 10 days?"

"Yes, Sir." She almost added, "The jailer told me." She didnít need to because the judge was already aware of it.

"You have behaved well. If we can clear this lying from your chart I may grant a parole. But, donít count on that. Iím not completely satisfied with you."

"Iíll do my best, Sir."

"Keep on the good side of the jailer. He can turn your sentence into your worst nightmare."

With that he was gone. Amy suddenly remembered a TV show, called "Scared Straight." With a jolt she realized she was getting the same treatment. The threat of returning to the jailerís tender mercies would straighten out a pathological liar and make him an honest man.

The jailer had a bedtime story for her. This one concerned one of what he called, "The lucky ones" who had a cell instead of a cage. "She crossed the judge," was the only explanation. For some minor infraction of the rules, she was outfitted with a baseball-sized steel ball on a chain attached by clamps to her nipples. The jailer was laughing so hard he could barely tell Amy the details.

"She had her hands locked behind her, so she had to crawl from one place to the other in her big cell. Had to get up to go piss, or crawl into bed, she had to take the full weight of that ball on her nips. Twas bad enough crawliní, Ďcause that ball would jerk sumpiní fierce, driviní them clamps deeper and deeper into her tit-flesh. The chain had swivels but one of Ďem jammed and she did a flip to avoid haviní her nips pulled off. Funniest damn thing you ever saw. Say! I just Ďmembered. Ol judge thinks you might have some fresh idees to use on his wife."

The moment she dreaded was here.

"Yes, Sir. He should make her sit on the studs, with her legs crossed and pulled in. Tie fishing line around her big toes, tied off to the sides. Bring her hands up to the top and do the same with her thumbs. She wonít move a muscle, because that line will cut right into her. Sheíll get very tired of holding her arms up to keep from cutting her thumbs."

"Nasteeeee! "Ol judge, heíll dearly love to do that to her. Iíll tell him about it in the morning. Right now, you sleep. Same rules. You wake me and your ass is mine, come morning."

She managed to sleep through the night without a noise. She was still wakened with Old Betsy and put through her morning toilet with the usual disastrous results that required a cold water douche and liberal quantities of Old Betsy that stung especially well on her wet skin.

The jailer went off to harass his other inmates, leaving Amy to crawl and kiss endlessly around the interior of her cage. Meanwhile the judge appeared more than an hour early, spending some of the time practicing on his wife with a new cattle prod. The fresh batteries seemed to be especially potent, best felt on the receiving end. Glen came into his office, so he reluctantly left her sobbing fitfully and sent up to talk to Glen.

He started the conversation bluntly. "Think sheís going to lie again?"

"Sir, she probably will. Show me a woman that doesnít tell at least white lies. But from what Dr. Steve tells me, she is contrite and swears she wonít lie again about anything important."

"Iíve already told her that if she lies again sheíll be here permanently I think you know the jailerís reputation."

"I didnít, until this came up, but Iíve gotten an earful already."

"Sheís coming out of it, like Dr. Steve said she would. I wouldnít have given a plug nickel that sheíd snap out of it."

"Sheís a tough cookie. She forced herself for weeks to keep from having an orgasm before she went out man hunting."

"Claimed to have done that."

"Sir, I donít think she was lying. I found that getting her hot put her in a frame of mind where she couldnít lie, even if it meant severe punishment. The first night with her, I made her come, just by touching her."

"Now, I think youíre lying. Thatís hard to believe."

"No, Sir. Ask her. She was wound up so tight I saw it happen. She gets all flushed and her chest is mottled when she comes. She has what we dubbed minigasms and then real blockbusters."

"I hate to keep doubting your word, but she hasnít shown one single sign of arousal since sheís been here. If sheís half as hot as you say, she should be having an orgasm every time she turns around in that cage."

"Iím not surprised, Sir. You probably will doubt me even more when I tell you that I ordered her to shut off her arousal and she willed herself into a zombie state. She begged me to never do that again, saying it was the worst thing that ever happened to her. I promised, with the exception that I would use it if she got into major problems. I warned her before she went into the cage that she was not to get any enjoyment from being caged. Sir, I can prove it, if you will let me see her. Iíll give her permission and sheíll have an orgasm in 30 seconds or less."

"Iím sorry, I canít let you do that. If you can get Dr. Steve to observe, when you get her home, Iíll accept his word. Donít get me wrong. Iíve been testing you and so far I am satisfied that you are being truthful. I havenít decided on your slave, but from this conversation I am more confident that she will put this lying incident behind her. You can have her back tomorrow evening. Back your truck up to the left door at the back of the building."

"One other thing. She wants to be your wife."

"Yes, Sir. I know, and I want to marry her. We love each other. Dr. Steve said you were against marrying a Master and a slave."

"I will warn you -- youíre asking for trouble. Iíve seen a number of legal messes that resulted. One went so far as to charge kidnaping, rape, assault and a grocery list of other charges. By all means, avoid that if itís at all possible. I know love is blind. Iím a victim of that." His tone was suddenly bitter.

"Iíll do what I can, Sir, but Iíd feel a lot better married to her."

"Well, keep what Iíve said in mind. If you prove to me that you both are telling the truth, Iíll marry you, but I will maintain my reservations."

"Sir, Iím learning to be a Master. I am glad of the advice and my slave and I will consider it very carefully before going any further. I appreciate any help you can give me."

"Given the fact that I have a slave-wife who gave me a set of horns, and who is downstairs regretting her sins, I may or may not be a good source of advice or information. You already know Dr. Steve, who has his problems as well, but you can bank on his advice."

"Thank you, Sir. I will pick her up tomorrow night. I really appreciate your understanding."

"Weíll talk again," the judge predicted. "Good bye for now."

Amy meanwhile continued to crawl and kiss, kiss and crawl. She was thinking, for a change. Bits and pieces of her past were filling in the blanks. She could trace things back to the night she stripped and cuffed herself before Glen. She remembered the beating at Ralphís hands and then things began to get vague, her treatment by the drug dealer an island bright in the middle of grey. She felt she would never forget that again. Or, lie about it again.

She heard the jailerís boots and stiffened, preparing herself for whatever mood he might be in. His whistle sounded angry or annoyed. She still didnít know this bodyless voice that degraded her with words and peppered her with whip marks.

ĎDamn slut tried to bite me. Iíll fix her cunt on a fencepost and play ring around Rosy with her. Weíre gonna try that fishing line tomorrow, first thing. You got any more bright idees, slut?"

"Yes sir. Is she ringed? Please hit me for talking to you."


"Damn right sheís ringed. Double row up her snatch, battleship anchor chain link through her clit, double loop and bar through each nip, crossed bars through her belly button and a row down her tongue. I Ďspect sheís pissed ol judge before. He likes to mark the gals what enjoy his cages."

"Sir, besides what I suggested before, take the rings out of her nipples and stick a piece of fishing line through the hole. Tie it to the roof of her cage with some tension and sheíll be begging you to slice her ass. You can do the same with two of the rings in her pussy. Tie the lip to the bottom of the cage, over her feet, so she canít move them without pulling through her lip. Sir, please hit me for talking to you."


"Christ, you otta start a business, with all them idees. Ol judge, heíll be a happy camper. Sheís gonna not be so happy. Course, sheís gonna blame you, cause sheís blaminí everything we do to her now on you."

Amy shuddered. This was exactly what she feared. The jailer never said, but if his comment about marking the prisoners with rings was true, the judgeís wife had been in and out of cages for some time. She had a growing suspicion that the judge couldnít stand an empty bed, so his wifeís stays were relatively short. If she got out and came looking for her, well, she didnít want to think beyond that point.

She was interrupted by the sound of metal on metal. Tools of some kind. The jailerís hands moved her bodily and turning her over. Her butt was pressed into the end bars and her mound was framed by two bars. She moved slightly and the slap was instantaneous.

"Donít move a whisker!"

She held the awkward position for a full minute. She could hear him lifting some object. She felt cold metal on her labia. There was a tug and a snap. She screamed and tried to crawl through th bottom of the cage.


"Git back up here, you sow! I ainít done yet."

He dumped what seemed like a bucket of antiseptic over her. Sharp stabbing pain again, high on the right, just below her clit. Unconciously her hand reached to feel the pain. The chain snubbed her hand. He didnít even bother to tell her not to touch, wasting pointless words on a slave.

Chapter 25 - A New Player

The fresh pain triggered another flood of memories. It also raised a new question. She remembered enjoying pain, even... Yes, getting off on pain. Orgasms. They came with pain. She had climaxed when Ralph beat her. When Glen had first touched her. Touched her? How did she get that hot, so fast? Her head whirled, trying to understand what was happening to her.

But, she had been in almost constant pain ever since she crawled backward into the cage. The whipping. Both of them whipping her. The jailer whipping her. That was unforgettable pain. Then why on earth hadnít she come? That and her clit. She hadnít touched herself in... how long? Her hands were always cuffed behind her or to the cage so she couldnít touch anything.

That didnít make sense. She needed to come at least once a day. How many days? She should be as randy as a jackrabbit, begging the jailer to let her come. But, there was nothing. The tiny, tiny spark that was her drive was hidden away, deep in her belly, out of communication with her brain, glowing fitfully, as if ready to be snuffed.

Dimly, she began to remember, something about pain without any pleasure. Glen had... Something, but what did he do? He had told her something. That was it! He told her she would not receive any pleasure from her punishment. It blanked her mind so that she felt nothing. She remembered going to her knees and begging him never to do that to her again. He had promised, but with the condition that he would do it again if the offense was serious enough.

Amy winced. She had screwed up royally and more than deserved being denied pleasure. One totally empty spot remained. She could not remember Glen having ordered her a second time. He must have, because she was at zero and nothing that happened to her had the slightest effect on her non-existent arousal.

She shook her head, condemning herself for her problems. The rings in her labia hurt. If she hadnít messed up the punch would have given her a nice solid climax. For that matter, if she hadnít messed up, she wouldnít have been ringed in the first place. She felt a bit of a thrill getting ringed, something she had thought about while playing with herself, but it was one of the things she fantasized about, never dreaming it would become all too real. The jailer was coming back, so she had to pay close attention. He sounded like his mood was good. She prayed it would stay that way.

She had lost all track of time. The endless bread and water, spiced now and again with the jailerís sperm seemed to come at longer and longer intervals. When she slept, she woke feeling that she had slept no more than a few minutes. Her count of the bars was into five figures, but the jailer never asked for a figure. She counted anyway, following orders. He would probably ask in the middle of something else, just to confuse her. Visits by the judge or Dr. Steve interrupted the count so she had to be very careful to remember the number she left off at.

The jailer announced, "Time for a shave. Spread your legs and hold STILL!"

Her face flushed, she obediently spread herself, holding her legs tight against the bars to avoid an accidental movement. The jailer took half an hour for a five minute job. Given where his fingers were playing, she should have been panting with need, but the only effect of his groping was red-faced, utter humiliation. It wasnít that he had all the time he wanted to see her nakedness, it was knowing that she had done this to herself. She wished fervently that Glen was there to beat some sense into her and make those hateful fingers go away.

He and the other slave had whipped her and she was sure they would be waiting, whips ready, if she ever got away from this place. She was becoming more and more convinced that the jailer would charge her with something and talk the judge into keeping her here.

She listened closely and heard him put the razor away and then leave. Before he left he spun another of his horror stories.

"Gal in cell number 5 is a real looker. Got jugs like a hooker, but them knockers is what God gave her. She got a little sassy, so I fixed her clock for her. Took her out in the hall and to the far end. Then I makes her do a split, with her hind foot right tight to the end wall. She bawls and says she never did a split afore."

"Old Betsy is the best teacher goin and she learned mighty quick how to split her beaver. Gal looked kinda surprised that she could do that. I stand by her front foot and Betsy teaches her the flop. She gets it right in a hurry, and she bounces right past my measuriní foot, tits bouncing in the air like they was on rubber bands. Made her measure clear across and back to her cell. Aks her how many and Hell, she donít Ďmember, so she guesses wrong by three. Ol Betsy does the honors and with a little proddiní she begs me to take her out and measure it again any time I likes."

She heard his boots fading down the long corridor. Time to think.

Something was still missing in her memory that bothered her even as the jailer talked. She had been put in the cage, then whipped. Then she must have told Glen and Georgina what the lie was all about. She remembered withstanding the whipping, but there was a gap. If they couldnít make her talk with the whip, what did they do?

Her body told her the answer. She felt a sudden contraction in her ass and she remembered. Glen had shown her a... white chicken feather. He had tickled her ring of muscles and she had capitulated moments later.† She was starting to realize that Glen had pushed things, getting her to confess as soon as possible to avoid possible damage to her body. She took it as a sign of his love, which while logical, didnít exactly cover all of Glenís emotions.

She was interrupted by Dr. Steve. Was he sneaking up on her like the jailer? She chalked it up instead to being lost in her thoughts.

"Feeling any better?"

"Yes, Sir. Iím getting used to my cage."

Dr. Steve looked her over. All but a couple of her nicks had healed. She seemed in good physical shape. The question now was mental state.

"You arenít lying to me?"

"No, Sir! Once is enough."

"The judge is questioning that. He doesnít believe you and heís half convinced that your Master is lying as well. For instance, what happened the first time he touched you?"

Amyís face went red, humiliated that this very personal part of their lives had become common knowledge.

"Sir, I had worked myself into a state. He touched me and I climaxed on the spot."

"Just from a touch?" His tone was skeptical.

"Sir, you have no idea how hot I was, how aroused. I had denied myself any satisfaction for a month. I had to handcuff my hands behind my back to keep from masturbating in my sleep. Then along comes Master, the man I dreamed about, and his power just overwhelmed me. He didnít have to touch me. He could have said Ďorgasmí and I would have gone off like a rocket."

"You havenít had an orgasm since you entered the cage?"

"No sir. My Master ordered me not to get any satisfaction from this punishment. And, I havenít."

"No arousal?"

She felt his fingers on her clit. He might as well be touching her hand.

"No, sir. The jailer just played with me for a long time. I didnít feel anything."

"Iím surprised, but then Iím not. Your clit isnít engorged a bit.

That Master of yours must be powerful medicine."

"Sir, as his slave, all I can say is he exudes power. Over me and the other slave. We would do anything for him. Thatís why I want to get back to him as soon as possible. My life as a slave is totally empty without the exciting sex. He has punished me by turning my own mind into his punishment tool. I would give almost anything to be aroused again and be made to beg for relief, but his order holds me captive."

"Youíre telling a highly unusual story. Thatís why the judge is skeptical."

"Itís true, Sir. I swear, it is all true."

"Alright, weíll see."

As if on cue the jailer returned minutes after Dr. Steve left.

Gleefully he told her, "That fish line trick worked like a charm! Bitchy Bitch took one look at that spool and started screechiní and promising ol judge how sheíd do him up right. Hell, she told him things sheíd do for him that I never heered of and a couple that no woman could accomplish by herself. Ol judge he just grinned and started running lengths of that line. Let her hands loose, then zapped her when she went straight for her cunt. Made her tie slip knots through her pussy lips and nips and then hand the ends to the judge and he made Ďem twang like bow strings when he tied them off."

"Had to tip the cage to tie the pussy lines. She started holloriní, Ďcause it put a real strain on her nips. Her tits were all but cominí off her chest. She almost used that Ďbastardí word again, but ol judge he zapped her before she got her food hole fully open. She like to sliced open both nips, sawiní on them lines. She smartened up fast, but then she starts in calliní you names for putting the judge up to this. She gets to the point where she says youíre the judgeís whore and ol judge, he raps her on the snout and shuts her up good."

"And, whyinhell arenít you crawliní?" You think this place is run for yer entertainment?"

"No, SIR! Sir, please hit me for talking to you."


She was not about to argue with him. If he had decided she would crawl all the time, then sheíd crawl. Anything to keep him happy. Sheíd done more humiliating things in the past and undoubtedly would in the future, but right now her one job was pleasing the beast. That night, after the jailer had gone to sleep she compared the jailer with Glen.

She was deathly afraid of the jailer. Unlike Glen, his authority rested in his whip. Both he and Glen were sadists, but the jailer dishonored the word by the way he treated her, and by the explicit stories he told of other inmates. She was beginning to believe that he did in fact have several dozen women locked in cages or cells. She never saw or really heard anything to back up his stories, with the lone exception of the judgeís wife, whom Dr. Steve had mentioned.

The jailer was crude, poorly educated, in marked contrast to Glenís degree and good manners. Glen could hand out punishment with the best of them, despite still being in the learning phase. Amy knew that when Glen became an experienced Master, it was going to keep her on her toes. Blindfolded her entire time here, she had learned to listen to what the jailer was doing and interpreting what it told her of his movements. This talent would be good to have for a slave.

Morning found a grouchy jailer taking his feelings out on an innocent Amy, using Old Betsy at any excuse and halving her breakfast by Ďaccidentallyí dropping some of her stale bread. She made no protest when he announced, "Been on the floor, so you donít want it."

Famished, Amy would have cheerfully licked the floor clean for a few crumbs. He didnít offer her a chance to demur, so she kept silent. Someday soon she might get out of this hell hole, but right now she still had to humor her jailer. "Her jailer" What a laugh. She thought briefly of adding Ďbastardí but his story of the wifeís punishment for using the word scared her from even thinking it.

The jailer came back from his tour rather quickly, with a new story to tell.

"Whooee! Ol judge, he got her this time for sure. He found some kind of acid that burns like fire when you put it on skin. Itís so powerful you have ta dilute it Ďbout 100 to 1 or it hurts so bad itíll stop your clock. Puts some on a swab and makes her majesty stick her nose out a hole. Daubs a bit on the tip of her nose and† she like to tore that cage apart. Never heard a woman scream so loud afore. When she settles he makes her put her feet up to a hole. Had to zap her twice, Ďcause she knew what was acominí."

"He gives her big toes a bath with the stuff and she goes ape. He tells her to either straighten up or heís gonna treat her pussy to a douche with the stuff. He dabs just a dab on her clit and she goes flyiní back into the corner of her cage, holleriní like heíd gut stuck her. She turns to begginí and sheís got a whole new catalog of things sheíll do for his cock. Take me a year to try all of them."

Amy was ready to panic. If that woman got out, she was dead on the spot. Right now she had to crawl.

Evening came. Amy was doing her after dinner crawl. The jailer was off somewhere, no doubt torturing some poor cage dweller.

She heard footsteps. More than one. Too late she heard the click of a womanís heels. A gag was jammed into her mouth, roughly. Hands grabbed her cage, lifted it. A womanís voice, "Gotcha!"

She hung to the bars as the cage was carried down the hall, then down steps. Amy had always assumed she was in a sub-basement of the courthouse. Now she realized there was another sub-sub basement. The cage was dropped onto the floor, jarring Amy. She whimpered with fear. The woman laughed, gleeful.

There was a loud snap. Someone had used bolt cutters to break the lock on the cage door. She was grabbed, dragged and then ropes were tied around her handcuffed wrists. She was jerked into the air, her weight jamming the cuffs into her wrists. She moaned with the pain. A whip curled around her naked body, leaving a red track on her white skin.

Hands, female hands, curved around her neck and squeezed hard. Amy choked, trying to breath through impassable flesh. The hands loosened slightly, allowing her to gasp air into her lungs.

Then the gag was torn away.

"You whoring bitch! You and that jailer and that stupid husband of mine tried to kill me. You are dead meat, but first Iím going to give you a sample of what they did to me. Do you know how much it hurts to have a fish line cutting into you? Do you?"


The whip sang. Amy bellowed her fear.

"Thatís ĎNo, MISTRESS!"

"Yes, Mistress!"

"Oh, shut the fuck up! I donít want to hear your lies. You answer when I ask a question. Otherwise, zip it!"

"Letís try that again. Any experience with fish line?"

"No, Mistress. Please hit me for talking to you."

"Oh, I like THAT! Something you learned from the damn jailer, no doubt. Well, smart ass, youíre going to find out, right now!"

The hands fumbled futilely with the ring in her labia. Suddenly a piece of the Nylon line was inserted beside the ring. The hands took both ends and sawed it back and forth through the still tender flesh. Amy screamed. The woman giggled with glee. The laugh scared Amy, even more than the jailer. This woman was insane! There was no telling what she would do next. She tried to use what she had learned from tracking the jailer, but this mad woman wasnít moving. Amy shuddered with fear, bringing another maniacal laugh from the womanís lips.

The fear was making her bladder convulse and threaten to explode. Amy exerted all her strength to clamp it tight, certain that a leak would set off a fresh tirade. Absently she wondered what had happened to the two men. There was no sign of them and she couldnít hear them breathing any more.

"Those two bastards made me beg them to punish me. Do you know what itís like to be cooped up in a cage with big sharp studs all over the inside and have those two show me what they were going to torture me with and then make me beg for them to use it on me, and scrape and promise to do anything they wanted and made me keep begging until I was hoarse, and then theyíd zap me with that prod and start all over, making me use new words to beg with and zapping me if I used an old word, and making me tell them how much I loved my cage and how they were welcome to do anything they liked to me, and then you told them how to use that phone, that damn phone that zapped me from Friday night to Monday morning! Oh, you and I have a lot to settle. I donít have that phone, but Iíve got stuff that will hurt a hell of a lot more and youíre going to suffer every one of them."

"Now you beg. Beg me to saw that line right through your pussy lip."

"Please, Mistress, punish me, Make that line cut slowly through my flesh so you can get some enjoyment out of my pain and suffering. Please Mistress, hit me for talking to you."


"Try again! Flesh isnít half as much fun as pussy lip." There was that laugh again.

"Please, Mistress, punish me. Saw that line through my pussy lip, slowly, so I will feel each fresh cut. Please, Mistress, hit me for talking to you."


"Too bad this line doesnít have teeth on it, so youíd really feel it."

Amy could feel it, only too well. The woman was pulling hard, almost tearing it through the soft flesh while she continued to saw it back and forth. Each movement cut a little deeper, until the line pulled through the last bit of flesh. Amy screamed with pain and slumped, fainting.

The woman woke her by dumping a bucket of water over her head. Amy sputtered and woke to the pain in her arms and wrists as she hung, inches off the floor. She was still blindfolded, unable to see this insane woman who was torturing her.

She could hear her, hear that mad giggle laugh that sent cold chills across her chest.

"Now, beg for some of this fine brew that you gave my husband. They told me it was acid, that it would burn like fire but wouldnít damage the skin. Just drive you crazy with pain. Iíve got a whole new bottle and you are going to take a full bath in it. Get with it, beg! Your left nipple first."

"Mistress, that has to be diluted. You canít use it straight out of the bottle. It has to be diluted 100 to 1."

"You lying bitch! Trying to con me! You get it full strength, just like they did to me."

Mistress, I beg of you. Please donít use it without diluting it. I will beg for it on my nipples, even my clit if you will dilute it."

A flurry of lashes cut off further pleas. Then she heard the lid of the bottle being unscrewed. A Q-tip touched her nipple, very gently. The pain was instant, and agonizing. Amy screamed and fainted again. She didnít hear the door open as the jailer and the judge searched for two missing prisoners.

The judge was on his wife in an instant, holding a prod to her jaw he demanded, "What did you do to her?"

She hesitated until she saw his finger tighten on the switch.

"I used some of your acid on her left tit."

He spotted the open bottle. Swiftly he ran water in the sink and used a cup to rinse the acid off her nipple. He didnít wait, Yelling at his wife as he tried to dilute the acid as rapidly as possible. "You dumb shit! That has to be diluted, 100 to 1 before itís safe. You may have done some permanent damage."

Cowed by the knowledge that she had made a big mistake his wife mumbled an apology, which her husband ignored.

"I ought to use some of this full strength so you know what it feels like."

Her face blanched. "No, Master, please. It was a mistake."

"Certainly not an honest mistake. Youíre going back in a cage.. A new cage, smaller and less comfortable. Iím tired of you getting loose."

He turned to the jailer.

"Glen is due any minute. Call Dr. Steve and get him over here right away. Iíll keep pouring water on her nipple to neutralize the acid and try and wake her up. And put this thing in a cell until we can figure out a permanent home."

"Yes, Sir!"