Amyís Bondage
by Raul Roget

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

Chapter 46 -- Selene Talks Some More

The next morning at breakfast, Glen told Selene he wanted to see her in his office. When she knocked, he motioned her to a chair. He got right to the point, "You havenít finished the story of your life. Now that Amy is pretty much back on track, Iíd like to finish taping it."

"Master, I would be happy to give you that pleasure."

"We had you in some pretty uncomfortable bondage. Was that an incentive?"

"Yes, Master, it brought back a flood of memories. It did make it somewhat difficult to concentrate at times, but if you wish I will accept it again gladly."

"Does it help to have an audience, or does the fact that itís being recorded turn you on?"

"Master, both affect me. Seeing the arousal helps to turn me on."

"Youíre in charge of Amy. Would you like to have her as a captive audience?"

"Very much! I need to keep a close eye on her and as I describe things that happened to me I can spot her reaction, to help me find some new methods to use on her."

A few minutes later the two slaves eyed each other. Selene was strapped into her chair with broad Nylon straps welding her to the back and seat. Her legs were spread, ankles tied upward to the back rungs of the chair. A microphone stand behind her chair supported the long arm that passed beside her head, holding the microphone in front of her face.

Amy was kneeling between her legs, her face inches from the baby-smooth pussy that was the center of her interest at the moment. She was locked into double strength transport chains and a chain ran from her punishment helmet up and back to a ring high on the wall behind her. Neither one could move more than a finger.

Selene picked up the story where she had left of as if she had stopped minutes - rather than days - before.

Dr. Steve had both of us in a room. It was the last time I saw Nadine. She looked terribly frightened, watching Dr. Steve very carefully.

He said to me, "Youíre coming with me." Before I could protest I was hobbled and handcuffed and he had a chain leash attached to my collar. I followed meekly out to his car. He popped the trunk and motioned me to climb in. I had to sit on the sharp edge of the metal and swing my legs in. Annoyed with my slow progress, he grabbed me by the shoulders and shoved me into the trunk, slamming me into the spare tire.

He drove for a few minutes, then the sound changed as we drove into a garage. I could hear the big door closing. Then he opened the trunk and I was startled to see that he had a key in his hand. He unlocked my cuffs and hobble and even gave me a hand as I got out. He picked up my leash and had me follow him through a huge basement and upstairs. He pushed open a door and pulled me inside. Then he spoke to me for the first time since we left the Sorority House, "This is your room. Stay here, until I call you."

Dumbfounded, I stood in the middle of the room, unable to decide what to do next. Dr. Steve walked out and closed the door without saying anything more. I shook my head, breaking the lethargy that had enveloped me since my scheme fell apart. I began to search the room. After 10 minutes I gave up and stood again in the middle of the room. I had not found a single hook, eyelet, chain, lock or any other sign of bondage. I had checked the bed - even under the pillow - and there was nothing attached to the corners.

I sat down on the bed and for the first time considered my options. At the moment things looked bleak, as bleak as anything I could remember. Despite the fact that I was free of any restraints, except my collar, and there were none in my room, I still felt I was† Dr. Steveís prisoner. Instinctively I knew that I would never see the Sorority House, or any of the sisters, ever again.

As for Dr. Steve, I had no qualms if he wanted to make me his slave. I began to think seriously that he had this in mind for me. Itís not every day that a really handsome man picks you to be his love slave. As I thought about it I became more and more convinced that in the next few hours I would be wearing a new collar and kissing the feet of my new Master.

There are various grades of being wrong, ranging from an accidental mistake to being totally off track. They hadnít invented a scale to measure how wrong I was about Dr. Steve, as I would soon find out.

Dr. Steve knocked on my door promptly at six. I opened it for him and he walked directly to a door I had assumed was the closet, but the door was locked. He had the key, and opened it, revealing a walk-in closet of immense dimensions, lined with

clothes on both sides.

He waved a hand at the closet. "Pick something you like. Dinner is at seven."

The trouble with being a woman in a situation like that is that you canít decide. Every time you pick out your dream outfit, another, better one beckons. I spent 45 minutes making a choice, then hurriedly dressed and fixed my makeup in the fully equipped bathroom. Iíd never seen a medicine cabinet that big.

Iíd wavered between a floor length dress and a simple skirt and blouse, at last settling on the skirt. Somehow I was not surprised that there wasnít a bra to be had, nor a single pair of panties. My recent history of nudity made a Ďno problemí out of what otherwise might have been a Ďbig deal.í The mirror told me that† I looked pretty sharp, nipples at attention.

Dinner was superb, served by a butler who seemed to melt into the background when he wasnít serving. We talked about the weather and kept bypassing the key topic. Finally, I confronted him, "Whatís going to happen to Nadine?"

He glared at me for an instant, then his face calmed. "You two would have killed each other within six months. Thatís the last thing the Sorority needs. She is in a safe place. Red is the new president. Iím sure she will be able to maintain discipline around the House."

"Safe place?"

Right now she is residing in Cell number 11. There are some serious questions that she needs to answer, which do not involve you. She is going to remain there for at least several weeks. Whatever happens, you wonít see her again, so get used to it."

"What happens to me, now?"

I gave him an opening you could drive a truck through. Being a man, he ignored it.

"I have a job for you that I think you can handle. Iíll tell you about it in the morning."

I desperately wanted to ask him why I was suddenly free of any restraints, but by his manner I could tell that he was through explaining things for the night. We watched TV for almost two hours before both of us were bored.

We stood up. I waited expectantly for him to snap his leash on my collar and lead me to his bedroom. He half smiled at me, reading my mind. "Good Night."

He turned and walked away. I stood, looking after him, rejected and dejected. I went back to my room, undressed, took my shower and climbed into bed, ignoring a row of nightgowns to sleep in my accustomed nudity. I checked the drawer in the night stand for at least the fourth time. There wasnít a sign of a restraint.

I slept hard. I had a recurring dream of walking into a room where women were being subjected to horrendous tortures. I would wake up, panting, only to fall instantly back to sleep to dream the same dream.

I woke at dawn, burying my face in the pillow as I remembered the previous dayís events. The nagging question popped up at once - why was I down to my last collar? What was Dr. Steve planning for me? Furthermore, why wasnít I in his bed, chained and gagged, accepting the nasty things he was doing to my body?

That got my hormones jumping and in a few moments my fingers were between my legs, imagined as HIS fingers. I climaxed almost immediately. The man was potent medicine!

I had seen his wedding ring, third finger, left hand, but where was his wife? Iíd given him every ĎGoí sign short of kneeling before him and begging him to bed me. No dice. He was being true, or he was ignoring me for some other, unexplained reason. Plus the fact that he stood right there and read me like a book. I didnít think I was being that obvious.

I dressed for breakfast in the same skirt and a fresh blouse. I had no idea what my work uniform would be, but if needed I could always go back to the room and change. About the only thing lacking in that closet - other than bras and panties - was a space suit.

We made small talk, equal to equal, although I couldnít help feeling out of place. I would have been much more comfortable kneeling at his side, accepting morsels from his fingers, rather than sitting in a chair, fully clothed.

We finished, an unhurried meal. Dr. Steve walked behind me and I felt his fingers on my collar. There was a click and it fell away. I rubbed my neck, where it had rested. He put the collar on a small table. He looked over at me and smiled. I asked,

"Why, Master?"

"Because your new duties require that you be unfettered. You no doubt noticed that there isnít a single restraint in your room. If you do your job properly, there wonít be any need for locks and chains."

"Master, what if I like - and want - the chains?"

He chuckled. "That can be arranged. First, let me show you your job. Then weíll see if you still want to be chained up."

He led me to the basement. I was completely puzzled as to what he was up to. Finally we reached an unmarked door. He turned to me and explained, "In this room is a prisoner. She will explain her crime and her punishment. Your job will be as her jailer. You will administer the strictest possible discipline using any tool you wish. You may do anything to her, short of blinding or maiming her. Any questions?"

I had a hundred questions, but most of them would be answered once I was inside the door. I shook my head.

"Good luck!" he said, bitterly.

He gave me the key and walked off.

Not knowing what to expect, I unlocked the door, opened it, and walked in.

"You fucking slut!"

I stood stock still, totally baffled. In front of me a nude woman lay, arms and legs spread, eyes staring at the ceiling. I asked her name.

"Go fuck yourself!"

I looked at the rest of the room. The wall nearest the door was covered with whips and floggers. After her greeting I was sorely tempted to flail away at her and teach her some manners, but first I wanted more information.

"How long have you been here?"

"Go jump in the fucking lake!"

"Why are you here?

"Go stick your head up your fucking ass!"

Something was radically wrong. I could see the dozens of whip marks on her front, so I assumed that her back was equally as marked. The one reason that stuck in my mind was that she had been whip trained to insult everyone who came near her. My desire to whip her was a perfect example of someoneís intent for her.

"I am your jailer. Your new jailer if I guess correctly. You either stop doing what your previous jailer made you do or I will whip your ass to tatters. That means you do not use Ďfuckí in every sentence. Clear?"

"Yes... Mistress."

"Thatís better. Now, what is your name?

"Mistress, my name is Penelope, P E N E L O P E. That is eight letters, so I am to receive eight strokes of the whip. They used to call me Penny, but then I have to ask for double strokes for each letter."

"Penny, Iím not going to whip you until we are better acquainted."

"You MUST whip me. If you donít they will triple the number."

"Who are they?í

"I donít know. I am forbidden to know. I am a slave, so I donít know anything."

"Penny, please look at me while we talk."

"Mistress, it is forbidden. I must watch the screen for my instructions. If I miss any instruction I will be severely beaten."

What do they instruct you to do?"

"They control access to the bathroom. I am allowed two three-minute and one five-minute trips a day. I have 30 seconds to reach the door. If I miss the instruction I have to wait until the next one occurs."

"What happens if you donít get back in time?"

"There is a very loud Klaxon horn. It beeps for one hour. I want to put my fingers in my ears, but it is forbidden."

"What else do you see on the screen?"

"There are numbers that I must memorize. They quiz me. Sometimes they wake me in the night. I must answer instantly."

I was beginning to get very scared. The brutal cruelty the woman was describing was getting to me. She was calmly describing punishments that would have sent me into screaming hysterics. That I was going to be - already was - involved, was almost more than I could take. I think if Dr. Steve had been there I would have resigned on the spot and told him to find another jailer.

"They show movies. I have to count - everything. The number of characters, the number of words in each sentence of dialog. The number of men, the number of women. The number of cars that are seen."

"Thatís ghastly! How can you stand it?"

"Mistress, I told them to make me do this."

"My God! Why?"

"Mistress, I committed an unspeakable crime. If you whip me long enough and hard enough, I will describe what I did and why I am being punished. They tortured me until I begged them to do this to me."

"You mean all of this is your idea?

"Yes, Mistress. They hurt me and hurt me until I volunteered the things I hated most."

I looked around and again at Pennyís spreadeagled body. Something wasnít quite right.

"You are lying, but not on the floor?"

"Yes, Mistress. It was my idea. I am lying on wooden blocks. I have to be very careful when I lie down. If I knock over a block they substitute one with a pointed tip and I have to lie on that for 24 hours. I have a permanent one under my spine so that I do not slouch."

"You havenít moved since I came in. Is that part of your punishment too?"

"I am not permitted to move, for any reason. I have had 23 jailers, counting you. All of them spent hours teaching me not to move, not even my fingers or toes. They whipped me until I moved in pain, then they whipped me again for moving. I am only allowed to blink once every 15 minutes... I keep count of the number of blinks."

"Why have you had so many jailers?"

"I have been in this room for nine years, seven months, 23 days, 10 hours and 43 minutes. Most were fired for not being brutal enough to me. Mistress, you have not given me your welcoming whipping. Itís tradition with a new jailer."

"Have all your jailers been women?"

"There have been 20 women and three men. Two of the men were gay, the other was impotent. The women are much nastier jailers. I have been superbly trained as a pussy licker. The women liked to hear me scream as I licked."

I selected a whip and swung at her.

"One. Thank you Mistress, may I have 22 more, harder."

"Who are you, and why are you a prisoner here?"

"I am Dr. Steveís wife."

Chapter 47 -- Pennyís Tail/Tale

"Youíre WHAT?"

"I am Dr. Steveís wife. We have been married nine years, seven months, 30 days, 14 hours and 26 minutes."

"I didnít need to know calculus to figure that out."

"You had a short honeymoon!"

"Mistress, the honeymoon lasted four days, two hours and six minutes."

"Let me guess. Your honeymoon was scheduled for two weeks?"

"Three weeks, Mistress."

"Why did it end so suddenly?"

Penny was silent for several seconds. "You have been kind to me. Your kindness will turn to anger when you hear my story."

"Try me. Iím not your average jailer."

Penny continued to stare at the screen directly above her. "After I tell you I have to beg you to beat me. There is a rubber hose hanging on the wall, when the time comes."

"Just tell me the story. Iíll worry about your punishment when the time comes."

"Dr. Steve and I were married by the Judge and a second time by the minister of my church. We flew to a small island near Cuba for our honeymoon. We went to a party the third night and I was offered some drugs. I had never used drugs and I didnít know how to handle it. The next morning I was still high and I walked out of the hotel into the garden. One of the workmen walked toward me and I had an overpowering urge to have him fuck me. I bent over and he was doing me dog fashion when Dr. Steve came out of the door behind me, catching us in the act."

"He booted the gardener in the ass, knocking me to the ground. He grabbed my arm and dragged me back into the hotel and into our room. When I stood up he slapped my face, knocking me across the corner of the bed and onto the floor between the bed and the wall. I lay there, absolutely motionless, not daring to move. I knew he was in a murderous rage and I thought the slightest movement on my part would set him off. I fully expected him to kill me. As I began to sober up from the drugs, I realized what I had done. I waited as long as I dared and then tried to apologize. He roared at me to shut up and stomped back and forth across the room. I was certain the man I loved so much was going to drag me out of my hiding place and throttle me to death."

"I heard him open the door and walk out of the room. I didnít dare move for fear he would come right back and find me in a different position. He was gone for 24 hours. I donít know where he went, or what he did. He was silent, never came near me and for all I know, never even looked at me. He laid on the bed, silent for a long time. Then I could hear him snoring. I never moved."

"Later that day two big men came into the room. They put me on a stretcher, strapping me down. I was flown back here and taken into this room, which has been my jail ever since. I have never been out of here and Dr. Steve never comes to my cell. All my punishments are handled by the jailers he hires."

"The first was a woman twice my age, a professional dominatrix. She was an expert with the whip and she used it to teach me her name, spelling each letter with a whip stroke. She was the first one to teach me to count. The second day she asked me how many whip strokes Iíd had the previous day. I guessed and guessed wrong. She repeated every stroke and then gave me the number I had guessed. From then on I had to keep a daily, weekly and monthly running count. For the slightest mistake she would repeat the strokes from the previous day, making me count aloud and ask that each one be harder. Every jailer since has followed her lead and harder is a standard."

"Dr. Steve got a copy of the security camera tape showing me fucking the gardener. I have seen the tape every night here on my screen. On the anniversary it plays continuously, stopping only for the beatings. I have seen it 36, 278 times."

"I know it by heart, whipped into me. The first time they showed it to me, they asked afterward what I had counted. I hadnít counted anything. I have never made that mistake a second time."

"Whenever I tell my story I have to repeat each statistic. I took 18 steps into the garden. The gardener took six steps to reach me. He made 14 strokes into my cunt before my husband kicked him. He dragged me across three rose bushes on the way back to our room. Now, when they show the film, I have to count aloud."

"Do you still love your Master?"

"Yes, oh yes, Mistress. I have never stopped loving him. It was my fault and I deserve the punishments I have them give me. He has instructed the jailers never to bring messages to him, so I have no way of confessing my sins and asking forgiveness."

"Would you feel better if he were administering your discipline, rather than hired jailers?"

"Mistress, you have no idea how much I would love it if he would whip me and beat me rather than these jailers. No offense to you, Mistress. You are different than the others. I would be happy to die at his hands, knowing that I finally have atoned for cuckolding him on our honeymoon."

I saw tears forming at the corner of her eyes and reached down and wiped them away.

"Mistress, you must punish me. I am not allowed to cry."

"You may cry as you wish, while I am here."

I wasnít at all sure that I could get away with lightening her load. I suspected there were cameras trained on her but I strongly felt that Dr. Steve hadnít looked at her for the entire nine years. I gambled on it, hoping to reach Penny behind the wall she had built around her.

"If I took a message to Dr. Steve, what would it be?"

The tears really started to flow. She whispered, "I love you!"

"I wonít guarantee it, but Iíll try."

"Thank you, Mistress."

It was lunch time. Dr. Steve had given me a wristwatch, the first Iíd had since Cecill. As the butler served the meal I settled in, trying to figure out how to broach the subject without setting off a tirade. I waited until we both were finished. "You havenít asked about your wife."

A black cloud crossed his face. He stared at me until I felt as if knives were slicing my stomach from inside. When he could trust himself to speak, he threatened, "You could join her in an instant."

I made a face, knowing I was treading on very thin ice. I barged ahead. My only thought was at least Iíd have someone to talk to.

"Dr. Steve, your wife adores you and loves you. Despite almost ten years of continuous torture she is ready to die at your hands to atone for what she did to you. Did you know she was high on drugs?"

His eyes widened, then his face turned grim as he slowly shook his head.

"She sent you a message."

He laid his head on his hands for a moment, then raised up, glaring at me. "I told..."

"No, you didnít. You told her other jailers but you didnít tell me!"

I gathered my strength. This would tell the story. "Three words. Not a confession - sheís done that, to everyone but you. Not an apology - again to everyone else. You never gave her a chance. She had three words. "I.. Love... You."

I stopped, fully expecting to be kissing iron in moments, breathing my last free breath.

He sat there, looking at something he couldnít see. He had lost the angry cloud and his eyes had a softness Iíd never seen before. I nudged him again.

"Dr, Steve, she wants you to whip her, wants you to beat her, wants you to torture her in any way you chose. If it is from your hand, sheíll go through fire and water to please you. She has suffered at the hands of your hired torturers for far too long."

Suddenly an idea came to me, "Dr. Steve, did this whole mess start because you were afraid to bring up bondage in your marriage?"

He just looked at me, admitting it without moving.

"What sheís been going through Iíd class as pretty damn advanced bondage. If you had introduced her to bondage, she probably wouldnít have gone to that party and wouldnít have done any drugs. She wouldnít have left your side, even without a collar and leash."

He sat there, staring at me, although now I felt he wasnít seeing me. After a long silence he muttered, "Sheíll leave me if I let her free."

"She should, after the way youíve treated her. I can guarantee that she will never leave you and will serve you with her dying breath. She is madly, totally in love with you. I envy her, not her hardships, but her marriage to you."

"You have no idea how close you are to never seeing daylight again. You are meddling in affairs that you have no business in."

"Doctor, whatís the term, ĎPhysician, heal thyself.í It applies to you. Youíve shut your wife away from civilization for nearly a decade. You owe her just as much of an apology as she owes you. You need to mark her file Paid, in full!"

For the first time there was a helpless look on his face. I was deep in unfamiliar territory so I barged ahead. "Iím going down there now. You can go with me and stand behind me while I talk to her. I want you to hear her, hear how much she loves you and how lost she is without you."

With great reluctance he nodded his head. I got up and let him follow me to her cell. I had thought of it first as simply a room, but after seeing the sinister interior I could only think of it as a cell or even a dungeon.

I unlocked the door. She was in the exact same position. An empty plate lay beside her. She greeted me as Mistress, failing to see her husband lurking in the shadows behind me.

"What did you have for lunch?"

"Mistress, I gave them the recipe. It is stale bread soaked with hot sauce. The cook and the butler both spit on it before it is delivered. I am not allowed water, to ensure I feel the full effect of the peppers."

I reached over her and turned off the screen. She reacted violently. "Mistress! You canít do that! They will beat my feet until I have to crawl to the toilet. I canít crawl fast enough to make it in time. Youíve got to turn it back on!"

"Penny, itís over. Your stay in this room is ended. I turned the screen off because you will never have to worry about it again."

I patted her head and kissed her cheek. "I delivered your message."

For the first time she moved her eyes away from the empty screen. "What did he say? Did you tell him I love him, that I would die for him? Did you tell him how sorry I am, how I want him to punish me for what I did to him?"

"I told him all that, and more. He threatened to put me down here with you."

A look of terror crossed her face.

"He wouldnít..."

"He would. He has very strong feelings about you. I was able to convince him that it was more important that you be freed. He is afraid if he lets you loose, that you will leave him."

"No. No! He mustnít feel that. I am his. His slave if he wants me. I love him! I would never leave him. Never!"

I stepped to one side and turned. "Do you want her?"


"Master!" she cried. Tears welled, blinding her. She moved her hand, rubbing her eyes open, finally to see the man she had married. He knelt beside her, holding her hand in his. Neither spoke a word, but their eyes spoke volumes. A decade seemed to evaporate in a moment. I took the key from its hook and handed it to Dr. Steve. He unlocked her wrist. Her hand went to his face, caressing it, the first touch after so long a time. He hurried, unlocking chains that had never been unlocked during her entire stay in that dungeon. He reached at last for her collar, but recognized it as his own and left it in place. With one hand he lifted her to her feet. Two of the wood blocks stuck to her skin and then fell off as she rose.

Penny immediately went to her knees, ignoring the empty chains she was kneeling on. She grasped his hand and kissed it, then bent down and kissed his shoes. She looked into his eyes and repeated her message, "Master, I love you!"

He smiled down at her, encouraging her to speak again.

"Master, I have committed an unpardonable offense against you. I beg your punishment, stringent and cruel, to show me the error of my ways."

He nodded. At the moment if she had asked for the moon, he would have figured out a way to give it to her. I envied her even more at that moment. Punishment with love is a whole different category from discipline with hate.

I followed them at a discrete distance as they headed for the stairs. He had a tight grip on her hand and she was walking so close that they bumped with each step. I was forgotten. He had his bride back.

Breakfast was late the next morning. When Dr. Steve and Penny finally appeared, he looked blissfully tired. She winked at me and spun her nude body to show me the fresh stripes that seemed numberless. Her face revealed that well fucked look. After breakfast, he sent Penny on an errand and sat down with me. "I owe you a big debt of gratitude. You accomplished what I refused to ask you to do. I realized as I heard her that I had done her a serious wrong. It might never have been corrected if you hadnít taken the initiative to bring her back to my attention."

"She is ten years behind on everything. Youíre going to stay here for several weeks to bring her up to date and teach her whatís going on in the world. From that point weíll see what we do with you."

"So Iím a prisoner here until you decide my fate?"

"The chains are still there, down in the basement. I owe you a favor, but that wonít stop me from locking a lot of iron on you if you forget your place."

"Yes, Master."

Oh, how I wish heíd start a harem.

A night in Masterís bed had worked wonders with Penny. The dull tone in her voice and the dull look in her eyes were gone. She literally sparkled. She and I hit it off perfectly. She was all over me, thanking me for releasing her from her partially self-imposed bondage. I pointed out that she was jumping from the frying pan into the fire, pointing to some of the more prominent welts that she bore like a badge of love. Her answer spoke volumes, "But, Master did those, himself."

I couldnít help shaking my head. Ten years of that kind of love, down the drain.

I found I had a ringside seat for the ensuing weeks. The two lovers did their best to erase a decade of separation in one night. Or two nights. Or three nights. Penny would make a bee line to me, to show off her latest nicks and scratches and welt after welt. I couldnít help commenting, "But, this is far worse than anything you suffered in your cell."

"But, Master did these himself."

How the Hell do you fight logic like that? I fought fire with fire and taught her a few tricks Iíd long since learned.

Chapter 48 -- Marry Me, Marry Me

Penny was insatiable!† At least she was with me, so my natural assumption was that she was wearing Dr. Steve down as well. After a week of new found love he was beginning to look distinctly haggard.

One point I should make very clear. I didnít touch Penny and I refused to allow her to touch me. I was not about to sour my tenuous relationship with Dr. Steve.

Penny was going solely on her experience in the dungeon. Her jailers had demanded her tongue so she thought I was no different on that score. I had my work cut out for me, trying to convince her that right now was not the time to be jumping me.

The driving force was the gratitude she felt for reuniting her with Dr. Steve. I was convinced that she would gladly have endured 23 hours a day in the dungeon, in exchange for one hour with her husband. She was in absolute awe of him and once I pointed out to her that taking me on as a lover would strain her relationship with her husband, she stopped making advances from one moment to the next.

Her main problem was that she wanted to give me something, do something for me, to repay my kindness to her. But, she was a slave, even if she had never formally been collared, so she had nothing to give but her thanks. I spent several days, concentrating on teaching her the long forgotten morals of a marriage. It was no easy task. They had beaten the opposite message into her very soul, so I couldnít accomplish any more overnight miracles.

We spent hours talking. One by one I tackled the points of the† brainwashing she had endured. I made her state each and every message that they had drummed into her. I took on some pretty scary stuff as several of her jailers had been out and out sadists looking for blood. As I untangled the knots in her mind I repeatedly warned her never to bring up what had happened to her with Dr. Steve. It would only set him off again. I was sure that he knew almost nothing of what went on in that cell over the years. I was sure that, especially now, he would kill anyone who had harmed her.

On the fourth morning after her release, she came out of the bedroom wearing the most beautiful set of chains that I had ever seen. Penny was absolutely radiant, giving off a glow that lit the room. She hadnít taken her eyes off of her handsome husband for more than a few seconds since the moment they were reunited. My talks with her were limited by her anxiety to get back to him.

Now she was back in chains, and obviously loving every moment of her new captivity. These links were a far cry from the ugly chunks of iron that had imprisoned her for a decade.

She had a brand new collar. Gold, mirror finish, delicately engraved. A collar for a princess, or even a queen. Handmade, tiny polished links looped to her wrists, back to an ornate golden belt and looped again to her ankles. The cuffs at wrist and ankle, and the belt all matched the collar. She was helplessly chained† but could do almost everything as easily as without them.

She ran to me, kissed me, and excitedly twirled and spun, showing me every part of the set. She knelt before me and lifted her hair from her neck to show me her collar. When I admired it she broke into a broad grin, even as tears started to gather in the corners of her eyes. I dabbed with a tissue and hugged her as Dr. Steve watched, beaming.

"Mistress, this was my wedding gift.† I had to wait 10 years to get it, but it is worth the wait."

She looked back at her husband and threw him a kiss. I could tell that much as he savored the moment he was beating himself up thinking of all the wasted years. If he had the courage to ask her...

Once she had shown me everything, Dr. Steve came forward and snapped her leash on the collar. I looked at the collar and then at him.

"She is now my wife-slave. I collared her last night."

I bowed my head to him, acknowledging his authority and reached down and hugged Penny. "Congratulations!" I whispered in her ear. She smiled as broadly as he did. She gripped my hand.

"Teach me my slavery, Mistress."

I nodded, and wiped away a tear or two of my own.

At breakfast I watched a supposedly ignorant slave learn her place. Penny, accustomed to learning at the end of a whip, learned even faster without it. She knelt at his side, silent, not part of the conversation I had with Dr. Steve. We discussed her as if she wasnít even there. I watched her accept a bite of toast, licking and kissing the fingers that fed her. I decided she needed to keep that as part of her training.

Dr. Steve informed me that I was to train his new slave while bringing her into the world again. I agreed, pointing out that she already knew some of the things she would need to know, citing her feeding from his hand. He grinned, sheepish, and nodded.

"I managed to teach her a couple of things. She trains well under the whip."

"With you holding it, she has plenty of incentive. Iím going to have problems figuring how to punish her when she screws up."

"Donít worry about discipline. She will report to me each night, recite her failings and I will award the appropriate chastisement. Youíre not going to cheat me out of a chance to redden her ass."

He grinned for my benefit and reached down and tweaked one of her permanently stiff nipples. She did her best to act as if she hadnít heard - and hadnít felt her Masterís hand, but she still made a swift glance at his face. She exuded sex all the time. My envy of Dr. Steve continued to grow. This slave I knew had to be a firecracker in bed. He grinned at me, reading my mind again and again. I swear he was daring me to make a pass at her.

Iíve been known to take a lot of dares, but this one was way out of my league. I had already seen my fate and it was something to avoid at all costs.

With breakfast finished and the last crumb licked from his hand, Dr. Steve picked up her leash and invited me to come along. He informed us that he had one more present for Penny.

When we reached the basement, I thought we were headed for Pennyís cell. I think she thought the same thing as her leash threatened several times to pull taut. There were a series of doors along the main hall, none of t hem marked. Dr. Steve brought out a key and unlocked one of the doors. He handed me her leash and stepped back so she could walk through the door. I followed, letting her lead.

She gasped. I gasped. Dr. Steve grinned with pleasure.

Penny and I were standing in the doorway of the largest, best equipped, most complete torture chamber in the country, probably in the world. It made every Banana Republic interrogation room look like a MacDonaldsí toy park.

Penny went to her knees and I went with her. Iím like every slave. Show me a torture chamber and Iím convinced that Iím about to become an object lesson for someone. Here, Iím supposed to be Pennyís Mistress, but itís damn hard to maintain your authority when you are faced with a thousand ways to hurt you.

Dr. Steve let her look. That she was doing. I could swear she was back in her counting mode. Where she gained the knowledge I didnít know then. Later I learned she had been deep in the scene before she met Dr. Steve. She too had made the mistake of not telling her future husband of her interests. Right now she was identifying machines Iíd never heard of, at a glance.

Dr. Steve was leaning against a table by the door, watching Penny very carefully, pride of ownership clear on his face.

After scanning the room, Penny turned to her husband. "You made this, put this together, for me?"

He could only nod.

She jumped up, jerking her leash from my slack hand. She ran to kneel before him, kissing his shoes. "Thank you, Master! When can we start?"

"We should start right now, punishing you for escaping from your Mistress and punishing her for allowing you to escape."

"Master, punish me. It was all my fault. Please do not punish my Mistress."

"You would accept your punishment and hers as well?"

"Of course, Master."

"I will deal with you two later. You are free to wander about and you may try out any equipment but you are not to be left alone in here."

Dr. Steve had to leave for work. For the next two hours I was treated to a guided tour of what amounted to a museum of torture instruments. As we moved about Penny told me that he had built and equipped this room as a surprise gift to be presented to her when they returned from their honeymoon. It sat idle for the years that she spent in a room a few doors down the hall.

When he collared her, he had told her he had another surprise, but didnít tell her what it was, only that it had been waiting for her.

She complimented me on my advice, telling me that he couldnít stand talking about the past. I continued to convince her that she should forget the past as rapidly as possible and concentrate on the future. I pointed out that she had a very rare husband, one who had the time and money to put together something like this for a single person - her. I reminded her that he could have had a thousand girls in this room and she would have had no way of knowing it.

I even confessed my crush on her husband and my disappointment when he didnít take me to his bedroom when he brought me here.

"Heís been loyal to you even as he imprisoned you. I think he knew what he was doing to you was wrong and was trying hard to find an escape. I came along and unlocked the door, leaving his male ego intact and letting him still have you."

"Mistress, you have been loyal too. You went to bat for me, knowing that he very likely would retaliate. I know you took some awful chances to get my message to him. "

"I wanted to please you with my tongue, but you knew that it would hurt him if I did. Iím sorry I put you in that position. I will confess it to him and accept my punishment."

I wasnít too happy with her doing that, knowing that some of the punishment would very likely slop over onto me. However, she had such a hold on him already that she probably could get me off with a warning.

As the weeks went by, Penny spent more and more time with Dr. Steve, whenever he was available. The two spent much of their time in the new torture chamber. I was never invited, but I did get to see the marks and an occasional comment from Penny that led me to believe that he had worked out much of his frustration and pain and was healing right along with her.

The day came that I had feared. Dr. Steve called me into the living room. Penny knelt in her delicate chains at his feet. I knew before he opened his mouth that Iíd reached the end.

"Selene, youíve completed your job here. Penny is mine once more and you have taught her well. Youíve taught me a few things too. Both of us owe you a debt of gratitude. I told you some time ago that I would decide your future. That has now come to pass."

He stopped and picked up a paper.

"The Judge is looking for a new slave, perhaps even a wife. You would be just what he is looking for. He has seen videos of you in action and is fully satisfied.† Do you object?"

It was my once chance for freedom. All I had to do was refuse and I would be a free woman again. If I had known what the future held, I would have run from the room.


Amy certainly didnít want her to run from the room. She wanted her to move forward a couple of inches so she could reach the pussy that loomed before her face. Selene could do nothing about it. She was part of the chair and the chair was bolted to the floor. The only hope for either of them was any slack in the chain that linked Amyís head to the wall behind her.

Amy tried. Sitting, blind, listening to one erotic scene after another, Amy was trembling with her arousal. Her only outlet was to lick Selene and draw energy from her climax to have her own orgasm. She bent forward, feeling the weight of the chain. Farther, the chain tightening. Farther, the links taut. She probled with her tongue, finding only empty air. Had not Selene shaved so faithfully Amyís furled tongue would have touched some of the hair, so close.

Both wound up frustrated, unfulfilled. Selene swallowed, wished for a glass of water, and continued.


I agreed. I wanted badly to stay here as a Mistress, but I didnít get that choice. Now I would go back to slavery, taking orders, rather than giving them.

Penny got to do his dirty work. She dragged the chains from a closet. I helped her remove my clothes. She knelt at my feet and fettered my ankles with a two inch hobble chain. My hands were cuffed behind me, locked to a chain belt that looped through my legs. The last thing I saw was her pained face as she dropped the gag-equipped hood over my head. I could feel her small hands tightening the straps. I would have much preferred that he bind me to end this passage, but I could almost feel Pennyís love as she followed orders .

I was placed on a hand cart and wheeled to the basement garage, bouncing down the steps and through the long hall. I knew I was passing both the old and the new torture chambers and though I felt a pang, I decided it was just as well. My next slip might have wound up as an indefinite stay in a room I had hated on sight.

I was dumped into the trunk of Dr. Steveís car, lifted in bodily. I got re-acquainted with the spare tire during the trip which lasted at least half an hour. At last I heard the sound of a big door opening and then the car backed through it. When it stopped, the truck lid popped open. Two people lifted me out of the trunk and up onto a hand cart, sitting on a loading dock. Somebody laughed, sounding like a chicken cackling.

"Ol Judge, heís agonna like this un!" Then the cackle again.

The cart bounced over the rough floor and a door sill. Then it moved down a long hall with a smooth floor.† I felt it being moved about, getting through a doorway. It came to a halt. Nothing happened for long minutes. I was gagged, so there was nothing I could do about it. I had to lie there, hoping against hope that I would be released soon. I was already regretting agreeing to becoming a slave again and I hadnít even met my new Master.

Rough hands grabbed me. Free feel. My tits, my ass, between my legs. Just north of gentle. Hands that could hurt in an instant. I lay, passive.† Helpless to prevent the violation of my body parts, I endured, feeling my arousal flicker and fan to life.

More cackling. "Ol Judge, he likes ta lambaste you cunts first thang. Me, I likes to have a welcum drink. You drink and I make yer welcum."

My gag was ripped from my mouth. A second later an oversize cock replaced it.

"Suck, bitch!"

I sucked, rewarded with a mouth full of tasty snack. I swallowed. Most men would slap you silly if you failed to swallow. I was taking no chances.

The hands shoved me, lifted me. I felt bars at my back. When I moved my head I discovered steel on both sides, denying me the ability to turn my head. A fist in my stomach forced me back hard agaist the bars. There was a clang of metal against metal and my nose was pressed by a bar I could not see. I was still close hobbled, but as my weight shifted to my feet I realized I was in a standing cage, barely big enough to contain me. As I straightened up more bars above my head stopped me. I had to crouch over slightly. It would hurt in minutes, be unbearable after a few hours.

The man cackled again. He seemed to be alone in the room. I wondered what had happened to the other person.

"Slut, meet Ol Betsy!"

Ol Betsy was no lady. She bit me like a demented weasel. Betsy was a whip. The bastard who named her was probably the cackling monster that now wielded it, missing the bars and tearing chunks out of my hide. It hurt. I screamed. Cackle didnít like that. Ol Betsy punished me with even worse pain. I choked back a fresh scream. Ol Betsy tried harder. I lost, and screamed again. This went on until I was hoarse. Then it stopped.

The hood was pulled from my head. Standing directly in front of me was a man who introduced himself as the Judge. Standing back was a second hulking man, holding a whip. Ol Betsy, no doubt.

"Dr. Steve speaks highly of you. I need a slave and you fill the bill. If you work out, you will be married to me in one week.

The Jailer will have charge of you and teach you the ropes here. I see youíve already met Ol Betsy. Keep your nose clean or youíll get a lot better example of her prowess."

He turned to the Jailer. "Make sure sheís on the pill. I donít want any little bondage rats running around underfoot. Keep her blindfolded."

So much for a warm greeting from my future husband.

Chapter 49 -- Rings

Amy was high in the clouds, surfing from cloud to cloud, lost in the word picture Selene was weaving. A word, a single word caught her attention. Selene repeated it. Amy was sure.

There was only one Jailer. He of the hard hands, the cackle, the drawl. He of the whip. "Ol Betsy." Confirmation. She and Selene had both met the Jailer and his whip. She had learned from the whip to beg, to placate the man who held her life in his hands. She remembered things she seemed to have forgotten. The raw cruelty. The ears that heard her quietest movement. The atrocities he committed on her in her tiny cage. The humiliation. Above all, the humiliation.

Although Amy knew some of the story, from events while she was in the Jailerís Ďcare,í she didnít know what happened in between. She suddenly had many questions, but she didnít want to interrupt.

It was not to be. Georgina interrupted. She unstrapped Selene and released Amy from the wall. She whispered in Seleneís ear. She nodded and tugged on Amyís leash. Down the stairs. Into a room with an examination table. Selene helped Amy onto the table and buckled her in place. A tall, beautiful brunet walked in, carrying a small case. She moved a small table close and then sat on a chair and rolled it between Amyís legs. She examined the cut lip, which had healed nicely, stitches long gone. She pulled gently on the ring, watching Amyís face. It remained bland as Amy endured.

Selene was watching too. She spread her legs and displayed her own rings to use as a pattern. She ordered,

"No anesthetic. She is a pain slut. Sheíll probably come three or four times. Sheíll be punished if she does.

Amy already sported two rings, one near the bottom of her slit on the right, one at the top just below her hooded clit. The girl had no trouble matching them. She opened a sterile needle package and then swabbed the entire area with antiseptic.† Without warning the needle sank into the base of her clit† and through, to be gripped by forceps and pulled through, seating a follower in the flesh. The ring end was pressed into the follower and pushed through. Pliers closed the ring. The girl worked with practiced speed. Amy had winced at the first jab of the needle, then remained still as the ring was installed. She fed on the pain, careful to avoid overstimulation that would cause her to lose control.

Both of the rings in her labia had been put in punch holes. As the technician examined them she discovered that each hole was lined with a grommet.. With a little digging in her case she matched them and dumped the grommets and the rings into a bowl of antiseptic. She proceeded to spoil Amyís plan for self control. First she marked the spots with a marking pen. Then she pulled a foil packaged sterile punch from her case.

She punched four holes on the right, and four on the left. Amy climaxed on each of the last three punches. The girl used a styptic pencil to cauterize the holes, stopping the bleeding.

A second punch closed and locked the grommets in the holes. After that it was routine, as the rings were placed and tightened. Bleary eyed, Amy looked in the mirror that Selene held for her, seeing the two rows of rings for the very first time.

Then came the nipple shackles. The girl squeezed a breast and then forced a much larger needle through, well behind the nipple. She pushed the shackle bolt through, pushing the needle out ahead of it. She applied an antiseptic and covered the nipple area with a large bandage.

There was one more ring to place. Selene moved to her head and closed a plate-jawed vise which held her head rigid. Amy could guess where the ring was going but she knew protest was futile. She braced herself for the pain that would come.

The special punch popped as it cut through flesh and cartilage up in her septum. Amy yelped, the pain beyond her control. The technician installed a large stainless steel grommet in her septum. When it healed, Amy could be ringed at will and managed with a little finger. Along with the shackles on her nipples and the rings in her labia she could be rendered helpless in seconds.

She had two weeks to heal before the wedding.

As the big day came nearer, Amy became increasingly nervous, worried sick that she would commit some grave error that would cancel or even postpone the wedding. She worried about her new rings, but the holes healed perfectly, without problems. After a week she could stand pressure on them and demonstrated by hooking weights on each ring under Seleneís watchful eye. The nose grommet healed well, but Amy couldnít even take the weight of the ring without creating a flood as her eyes teared. Selene debated making her wear the ring but decided it could wait until after the wedding.

Since this was not your typical wedding, there were no plans for a wedding dress, or for that matter, bridesmaids dresses. There also were no plans for a reception, a bachelor party, shower or† honeymoon. There was the matter of guests and witnesses. Glen invited Dr. Steve while he visited Amy to check on her rings.

He told Glen that there were several members of the courthouse staff who were into bondage who would like to be invited and who could also serve as witnesses. Amy was very unslavelike in rejecting the suggestion of inviting the Jailer. She suspected he would be there anyway, with or without an invitation. However, Selene overruled her, pointing out that if he didnít get an invitation he might very well sabotage the whole afair. Amy gave in grudgingly, earning herself an hour on the wooden horse.

While she was riding, Selene stopped by to remind her that the Jailer would have complete control of her - and her cage - for 24 hours before the wedding. Amy almost lost her lunch thinking about what he had done to her before. At the moment he loomed as more of a threat to her stability than the cage. She hated the cage, but she really hated the Jailer.

Selene was ready to continue her story, but she begged Glen for some changes in the bondage that she and Amy had to endure.

Glen agreed, and Amyís head chain was removed, allowing her to reach Seleneís pussy with her tongue.


"That night they put me, cage and all into the Judgeís pickup, then threw a plastic tarp over it. The cage was bad enough upright but it really was a bitch lying down. All my weight was on a couple of the bars and they really dug into me, especially on the last mile or two of gravel road to the Judgeís house. The only consolation was that I was out of the Jailerís hands, at least for a few hours. I had already learned to fear him and that fear grew every time I had to deal with him."

"When we rolled into the Judgeís garage, there was a welcoming committee waiting, I thought for one horrible second that the man was the Jailer, but when I got a good look I decided it wasnít him. The woman with him was flat ugly, one of the ugliest women Iíve ever seen. Unfortunately she had a temper to match and I got a full dose of it. She was a sadist of the first water, and hated women with a passion, I guess because every woman was more beautiful than she was."

"Both of them had heavy crops and the second they got my cage on a cart they started in, whipping me through the bars. Well, I enjoy a little pain from time to time, but this was rediculous. They gave every indication that they were going to whip me all night and all day the next day."

"I didnít even get the courtesy of the Judgeís bed. Instead they hauled me into a room in the basement with a four poster bed with a plastic mattress and bare sheets. There were enough chains hanging on the posts to restrain an army. They dumped me out of the cage and then whipped me until I crawled onto the bed, beating on me until I stretched my arms and legs, inviting them to chain me down."

"That asshole of a woman used one of the chains to beat me while the man used come-alongs on my ankle chains, tightening me up until I thought I was on a rack. Then he picks up a chain and wallops me a dozen times on my taut belly. By this time I was screaming and in comes the judge. Heís got a whip twice the size of the ones the other have and that SOB knew how to use it. First thing he does is get between my toes, full strength. Then he does my hands."

"Once heís got me screaming regularly he motions to the guy, who tightens me up to the breaking point. Judge climbs on. Guy whips my toes, ugly whips my fingers. Judge fucks me. I scream and bellow. He pulls out, shoots all over my tits. Ugly cleans my tits with her whip. I pass out."

"I alternated between passed out and whipped raw. Ol Judge....Damn! Now heís got me doing it! The Judge gets his boner back late in the evening and decides I need my ass reamed. I donít want it and tell him so. Big mistake. All three whip me until I beg pitifully for them to fuck my ass. He does, but with the handle of his whip. I have to suck him and the whip."

"They finally left me alone, but still taut as a drumhead.

I hurt, but I sleep anyway, having one nightmare after another. Mostly the Jailer and the judge, both inside my cage with me and screwing me front and back."

"When I woke in the morning the Judge was sweet as pie. Unhooked me, helped me to the bathroom, helped me shower and shave my pussy. Then he picks up his whip and directs me straight back into the cage. Back in the pickup, under the tarp and back to jail."

"This goes on for a week, with variations. All of them bad, or worse than the original. I look like Miss Bruise 2005. I canít sleep more than a few minutes. Then I have my nightmare and wake up screaming."

"In the meantime the Jailer is making life Hell on wheels, Heís pissed because he only gets blow jobs, so he takes it out on me. He lies to the Judge, tells him Iím acting up, calling him names. Judge tells him to go ahead and wear out Betsy on my ass.

Then he has him cart me into a vacant cell. Judge shows up with a Justice of the Peace and two men from the courthouse. The JP mumbles something and tells the Judge,"

"Youíre married."

"The judge waves him on. Next thing I know Iím lying across a table with the JPís cock buried in my pussy. He shoots his load and then the two witnesses get their turn. The Judge doesnít want sloppy fourths, so he buries himself to the hilt in my mouth. My choking and gagging is ignored and he face fucks me until he shoots down my throat. Last, he calls the Jailer in and that SOB does the exact same thing, half killing me."

"That night it was right back to the house, like nothing happened. The three of them wrecked me again and the same the next night and the next."

"I was getting totally pissed, but I was too weak to do more than verbally protest. The first time the jailer used a rubber hose on my feet until I begged to go back to the Judgeís house. The second time he beat my feet and made me walk on them for an hour before I got a chance to crawl to him and beg to go again."

"I told the Judge, to his face, that I wanted a divorce and release. That was the worst mistake of my life. Even worse than the Sorority business."

"He blew his stack. Took it as a personal insult and a professional insult. He had the jailer work me over all day and hired two more goons to work on me at night. I lasted three days because they overdid everything. The judge called in an EMT that he had a hold on and had her nurse me back to health. I had everything wrong but broken bones. She no more than got me back to sub-normal than she started humping me, making me suck her pussy. Sheíd deep massage wherever I had bruises, which was everywhere, and rile them up until I was dizzy with pain. Then sheíd straddle me and pinch my nipples until Iíd do her."

"Somehow I got the attention of the two goons when the Judge was off somewhere. I offered them $200 each to help me escape. They settled for $500. They almost pulled it off, but the one driving was going too fast and a cop pulled us over. I tried to pull rank by telling him I was the Judgeís wife, which was the wrong thing to do as the Judge had passed the word to be on the lookout for me."

"He delivered me right to the jail. The Jailer was waiting for me. He handed the cop an envelope. "From the Judge." The cop nodded. "Thanks." That was all that was said."

"The workover I got was expected, and exceeded my expectations. I was certain several ribs were cracked and probably other broken bones. I had a split lip and a black eye. Bunged up as I was they still hauled me out to the house. The two goons were there, as if nothing had happened. A lot happened after I arrived, with five of them working on me. The other lip was split and the other eye was black. It didnít bother the Judge one bit. He screwed me as violently as he could and then the others had a crack at me.

"I called the Judge a Ďmotherfuckerí which didnít appeal to him and resulted in my being put in a much smaller cage where I was constantly bent over as I knelt. My back was screaming. He stopped taking me out to the house and started abusing me right there , whenever he wasnít busy. The two goons got a message to me and showed up a couple of nights later and got me out of the cage. A cop spotted me at a road block and I went back to the jail."

"This must have been about the time that Amy was there, because I remember them welding my cage so I couldnít escape again, and that was something Amy said the Jailer mentioned.

It was about then that they started telling me that Amy was suggesting all the things they were doing to me - the telephone and the fish line and the other stuff - the acid.

"They had me barking up the wrong tree entirely. I must have forgotten the treatment at the Judgeís house or something, because they got all my rage centered on Amy. I was certain she was out to get me, and they played right along, hinting that Amy was now the Judgeís whore and that I was being replaced. It was crazy, because just a few days before I told the Judge I wanted out. I was going out of my mind from all the mistreatment. I was starting to have memory lapses - couldnít remember what day it was or even why I was in a cage."

"Iíd probably still be there if they hadnít gotten bored with hurting me. I managed to sneak a message to the goons and they brought bolt cutters and cut me out of the cage. That was when I kidnapped Amy and used the full strength acid on her nipple. I was certain she was lying. The Jailer had kept repeating that she was a liar and I believed him."

"By then I was out of options. The two goons managed to take a semi head on, just over the state line, killing them both. The Judge found out about it and taunted me with it, swearing he was going to keep me in my little cage for the rest of my life, with no hope of rescue.

"I admit, I gave up. I was hopeless. I wound up with a severe case of depression. Dr. Steve came in and treated me, but he could tell I didnít want to become better. He managed to convince the Judge that I needed to be switched off somewhere else. He mentioned Master Glen and the Judge decided that would be a good place for me."

"They spent weeks building a shipping box. They cut my cage† open and made me get in and out of the box a hundred times a day. They began beating me again, forcing me to invent attachments for the box. I came up with the serrated wooden triangle I had to sit on. I spent all day on it, then they turned me over and examined me, touching every bit of skin down there.They got all excited when I suggested the electric lock with the shocker. They built two or three models and tried them on me, testing to find the maximum shock they could give me. They wore out dozens of batteries testing to get the results they wanted."

"Those two bastards delighted in getting me all primed and ready to go, only to cancel at the last second on some flimsy excuse. That of course meant that I had to endure the entire opening operation with all the shocks each time they aborted."

"Before they shipped me they took me out to the house again. They beat me and then all the men raped me. The woman made me lick her to a half dozen orgasms, right while the men were fucking me. Then they brought me back to the jail and beat me again and this time the Judge let the jailer screw me. He was the† last. Then they stuck me in the box with fresh batteries and locked it up. They let it set a full day before they shipped it to Master Glen."


Amy was listening to every word, aghast at the cruel treatment that Selene had survived. She had thought her own punishment level was unique, but the things that had happened to Selene were far more serious that those that Amy had suffered. She had never had a black eye, and other than a few minor cuts and scrapes and a bruise or two, she had never reached the same level. Her grudging admiration for Selene spurted upward as she began to more fully realize the tortures she had gone through. She leaned forward, deciding to let her tongue speak for her.

Selene was lost in thought, remembering her treatment at the hands of the Judge and the Jailer. She was startled when she felt a delicate tongue lapping along her labia. Her eyes snapped open and she looked down to see Amyís head - unbidden - exploring between her legs. She moaned, letting Amy know she was being enjoyed. Her hands caressed her breasts, rubbing the nipples before sliding down her body to rest gently on Amyís head. She knew she didnít need to apply pressure. Amy was doing this voluntarily. Her silent hands signaled Amy to continue. Selene sighed, feeling the rapidly rising arousal that would trigger a climax in a few moments.

Amy felt the hands and smiled to herself. She wanted to do this, wanted to show Selene that she had no hard feelings, bore her no ill will. She felt a rapport with Selene she hadnít felt before. The memories of the Oubliette and the Rack faded before the onslaught of caring.

Chapter 50 -- Wedding Bells

Amy was working up a serious case of nerves. It was far different than the usual pre-marriage jitters that so many brides go through. For Amy it was a race to the finish line in hopes of beating some unfortunate event that would cancel Glenís plan for her. It didnít help matters that the other slaves were keeping their distance from her, seeming to move farther and farther away as the days passed.

Ironically she was the closest to her once and former enemy - Selene. Part of that was due to the requirements put on Selene by Glen, who wanted Amy under strict control and rigid discipline. A growing part was the realization that they had much in common. Selene was careful not to show the slightest favoritism to Amy, in fact ensuring that she got at least a bit more than the other slaves of the discipline Selene meted out.

Amy tried to tell herself that it would all change, once she was officially Glenís wife-slave. Even that caused some doubts as she had picked up hints that married life for a slave might not be that much better. She also was picking up on the hints that the wedding itself would be anything but a normal wedding. She had nobody to ask - that she dared ask and much of her time was spent under gag rule, giving her few if any chances to ask questions.

She had tried once to question Georgina, but that was a dead end. Georgina had never been to a slave wedding or known a slave who married her Master, so she covered her lack of knowledge by telling Amy to talk to Glen about it. Amy had reached the point where she feared Glen above all else, with Selene still a distant second, to her mind ruling out any questions.

When the morning came of the wedding eve, Amy was not ready. She trembled from the moment she was taken down from her perch on the bedroom wall where she had spent a sleepless night. Selene rapped her sharply with her crop to get her attention, then attached the rest of her chains and sent her down the steps to the kitchen.

She ate in silence. She might as well be eating sawdust for all the taste she seemed to have lost. None of the other slaves spoke to her. Glen ignored her, talking to Georgina and Selene about details of the house management. Amy felt nauseous, goaded by the fact that she would be face to face with the Jailer in an hour or two. She could already taste his cock in her mouth, swallowing as if he had already shot off in her throat.

Resolutely she fought each of the emotions she was feeling. She had one, and only one goal, to marry Glen. Everything else she would have to endure, survive, to reach her quest. She resisted the urge to run from the room, hide her head under a pillow, or run naked and chained out the door into the street. She mouthed the word. Spelled it to herself, repeated it silently.


If she said it aloud it would set off a chain of events with an unknown conclusion, other than that she would no longer be in line to marry Glen. The other possible outcomes were too horrible for her to even consider. She knew instinctively that if she spoiled things at this late stage, her punishments would know no limits, far worse than what she recently had undergone.

She had to balance all that against the known quantity - the Jailer. He would have her, helpless in her locked cage, for 24 hours. She now remembered every blow, every humiliation she had received. She remembered his warning, that if she returned he had untold terrors waiting for her Ďindefiniteí stay. He was a tool for the Judge, the hands that did his dirty work. He was also a roadblock between the two, a roadblock to any wedding, that traced directly to the Judge.

Breakfast was over. Not one word had been spoken to her. Nobody had even looked at her. It was as if she were dead and only her invisible ghost was sitting, eating tasteless food.

Selene picked up her leash and gave it a vicious jerk which brought Amy out of her lethargy. Selene used the leash and her crop to direct Amy down the stairs to the basement. Selene unlocked the door. The room was empty except for the cage, on the floor, in its exact center. The cage door was open. Amy was expected.

Selene opened a cupboard, returning to Amy with a handful of steel. In seconds it was in place around her loins, locked. She was to have her first experience with a chastity belt. She wondered if it would serve as a warning to the Jailer, or as a challenge to the Judge. All that was lacking was a "Beat Me" sign to go with the belt.

The last thing Amy saw before the blindfold dropped over her face were Seleneís eyes. They were dead, emotionless, their only message - "Just doing my job."

The effect of the silent treatment by the other slaves had its effect on Amy. She more and more felt she was going to her execution for some heinous crime. Even prisoners marched from Death Row to the gas chamber or the needle got a parting greeting from their fellow prisoners.

Her nemesis, Slave Fear, was suddenly working overtime, polluting her mind with fear of the unknown. She knew from her own experience, plus what she had learned from Seleneís narrative that the Judge had unlimited power and influence and the ability to maim or even kill those who stood in his way. The Fear put doubt in her mind. Was Glen sending her to her death, the final solution to the problems she had given him?

She fought the Fear, knowing that she must win or Glen would forever be beyond her grasp. She knew she must invent a game, one as painful as possible for her, that she could use to placate the Jailer. Keeping him occupied making life miserable for her was better than leaving him to plot with the Judge.

She wondered if Glen knew about the beatings and rapes Selene suffered at the Judgeís house, whether he had been listening as she described them, or later listened to the tape. For all she knew that could be her destination, with the Jailerís tender mercies merely a pit stop on the road to that house of horrors. The only thing she was certain of was that she was their plaything for 24 hours.

Her cage demanded attention. It had been months since she last was in its confines, but remembered studs beckoned. Flesh that had been pocked with evidence of each stud seemed to flow into exact position. The remembered hurt became the present hurt. She had hated the cage as a symbol of her big lie. She still hated that part of it, as well as the pain, but she now hated the cage as a symbol of her captivity in the hands of the Jailer and the Judge, a captivity that she was returning to of her own free will. She made a wry face beneath the blindfold. This locked cage was free will?

Familiar, long forgotten sounds and movement as her cage was lifted and rolled out of the room on a handcart. The door at the end of the hall opened. How long had it been since she came through that door, the first time? The cage slid onto the floor of the pickup box. The sound of a tarp thrown over it. She would ride in style befitting her status. A slave, being transported to the torture chamber, perhaps even her execution. Amy sobbed, once.

The streets seemed especially bumpy, giving the caged slave a rough ride. She jammed herself into the bars to keep from bouncing on the studs. The deepest potholes jarred the breath from her lungs, torture in itself.

The truck stopped, backed up. She heard the big garage door open . The truck stopped. The end gate dropped onto the loading dock with a clang. She heard the tarp removed. Her blindfold denied any light. A cart rolled into the bed, She and her cage were lifted. She heard the dreaded cackle. The sound of doom.

Neither man spoke. Amy heard the pickup start up and drive away as she was wheeled down the hall. The cart stopped. She and the cage were lifted bodily onto the table. The leering voice already was at her ear. "You know the drill, slut. Open your food hole, good Ďn wide."

Obediently she worked her head into position with her mouth between the bars. She opened as he pressed against her lips, driving in a single stroke to the back of her throat. She gagged at the long forgotten practice and Betsy came out of the black to remonstrate with her silly gag reflex.

Once he had flooded her mouth and she had carefully swallowed so he could see the movement of her neck, he seemed to be taking stock of her.

"Shitdamm, they got yer ass locked in one of them chastittytitty belts. Ol Judge, he gonna split a seam when he sees that. You ainít got a key, I Ďspose?"

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


"You gets to tell Ďim. Iím gonna be six miles away when he blows."

Amyís heart sank. Here not fifteen minutes and already in serious trouble. 23 hours and 45 minutes to go.

The voice disappeared. Amy guessed he was reporting to the Judge. Soon she heard footsteps. The Judgeís voice was curt, cold, unfriendly. "You still want to marry... What the shit is that! Who the Hell told you to wear a chastity belt?"

"Sir, they put it on me at the last minute, just before they locked me in the cage. I didnít have a chance to ask why."

"Son of a... That puts a big kink in the party Iíd planned, with you as the special guest. I donít know who did this, but Iím sure as shit going to find out."

"Anyway, you still want to marry that Glen?"

"Yes, sir, I very much want to marry my Master."

"I wonít stop you, because I gave my word, but Iím not going to make it easy for you. You both are making a really big mistake."

Amy didnít know how to respond, falling back on a, "Thank you, your Honor."

Not in the least mollified, the Judge walked away. 23 hours to go.

The Jailer snuck up on her, causing her to emit a startled squeal when he touched her.

"Well, cunt, ya got the Judge to turn meaner than a bear with a sore paw. He chewed my ass proper, like I was to blame for that belt. Iím Ďsposed to cut that off of you so Ol Judge kin have his partee."

Amy remained silent, fearing to react to the tirade.

She heard him open a drawer, move tools about and then he reached into the cage† and started work on the belt. She was treated to an uninterrupted string of curses as he tried one tool after another without the slightest success. The belt was made specifically to resist anything short of a welding torch. Working on her inside the cramped cage didnít make it any easier. 22 hours to go.

Fortunately for Amy some legal matters that required the Judgeís full attention well into the night kept him from having the special party heíd planned for her. It was a close call, as the Judge had already picked up the phone to demand the key from Glen when the first lawyer walked in.

The Jailer gloated as he reported the situation to Amy. "Ol Judge, heís got a case hangin fire till late tonight, so heís called off your partee. Thet means that you Ďn I can have our own celebration. Long as that food hole is workin, Iím in hog heaven. Now, hereís the rules. You provide the entertainment. I supply the food and drink - Ďspecially the drink."

He cackled at his own joke.

"Now! Gimme an idee for a game we can play to get the partee off to a good start."

"Please, Sir, If you put nipple clips on me - the kind that tighten when you pull on them - with the chain wrapped around a bar, you can whip me until I pull them loose. Please, Sir, hit me for talking to you."

"God! You edicated sluts do have the best cock stiffener idees of anybody."

Jailer was as bad as Glen to take a simple idea and embellish it.

He moved Amyís body and arms and legs until she was jammed in a corner with only an inch or so of room to back away from the bar where he tied the clip chain. He reached into the cage and rolled her nipples between thumb and finger, squeezing their hardness flat. He allowed the clips to snap shut on the nipple ends, drawing a yelp from Amy. Then he opened them one at a time and moved them down the nipple, right against the miniature shackles. He let them snap close again, and then pulled hard on the chains, automatically tightening the clamps.

"Lean back," he ordered.

Betsy began talking to her. She leaned back tightening the clamps. Betsy was whistling. She shrieked and leaned back harder. The clamps tightened more. Betsy was beating a tattoo on the upper slopes of her breasts. Amy realized quickly that if she had any hope of pulling free that she would have to do it one clamp at a time, doubling the pain.

She twisted her body and pulled. The clamp on her right nipple tightened, She pulled, finally jerking. The clamp held fast, tighter. Betsy was becoming angry. Amy jerked, driving her shoulder into the bar. The clamp moved, reshaping her nipple. Amy gritted her teeth and jerked harder, her shoulder sore from hitting the bar. The clamp moved, almost to the tip. Amy realized she was drenched in sweat. A drop fell from her chin, right on the tip of the nipple. Lubrication. She jerked and the clamp came free. Her nipple was a pillar of fire. The shackle bolt felt like a white hot poker rammed through her breast.

One down, and one to go. Now she knew how much it would hurt. She winced as she jerked, causing fruitless pain. Gritting her teeth she positioned her other shoulder and reared against the chain, throwing as much of her upper body into the movement. She screamed as the clamp tightened, sure it had cut her nipple in two. Tears blinded her as she tried to see the result.

The clamp had moved, but it was still a mile from the tip. Amy shook her head, hoping to drip some sweat on the nipple. She cleared her eyes in time to see a large drop barely miss and flatten on her breast. She shook her head again and more sweat dripped. A smaller drop washed over the nipple. It would have to do. Amy grunted and heaved her body against the clamp. It tightened and slipped at the same time. To Amy it felt as if the skin was being peeled from the tender bud. The clamp hung, holding a tiny fold of flesh. She threw her shoulder back. The clamp tightened, then slipped loose, dropping to the floor of the cage. Betsy snapped at her breast a final time, annoyed that her duties were over for the moment.

Amy wanted to scream the walls down. Her nipples were defiantly stiff, but they hurt, big time. Amy could not believe she had been able to pull free, despite the agonizing evidence that her nips continued to send to her brain.

She got no praise from the Jailer. He treated it as just another day at the office. That she was wounded, hurt, didnít concern him. The Judge had told him to hurt her, so he followed orders. That was his job. She had suggested the game, but if she didnít want that kind of pain, well that was her problem. That she was being forced to dictate her own torture was again not his concern. That was the way to run a jail.

He went to the cupboard and brought back a hand crank telephone. The leather case was old, probably surplus, left over from World War II. He showed it to her, making sure she knew what it was. The attached wires ended in alligator clips. He closed the clips on her nipples, then tightened thrm by squeezing them between his thumb and finger. Amy cried out in agony. He cackled. "Atís just the beginnen. Wait until I give the crank a twirl. Youíll come right out through them bars."

Suiting action to words, he grasped the handle and turned it. The current shot into Amyís nipples, jolt on top of jolt. She screamed. The Jailer beamed. Amy broke. "Please, Sir. Take them off. Please Sir. Hit me for talking to you."

"Why, we ainít even started good. None of yur friends have called to wish you a happy weddin. I thinks we shud take this here phone book and give you a ring for each name. Time we get to Z youíll be a teeny wet blob on the bottom of yur cage."


"First name is AAA Bakery. We cud use a dozen do-nuts for the partee."

Amy screamed. The Jailer almost came in his pants. He went through four more names, four more screams from Amy. Hopelessly she stared at the floor of her cage, wishing she had run, wishing she had said ĎNo.í

Dr. Steve walked in. She didnít realize it for a moment until the Jailer greeted him. "Hi, Doc. Howís it hanging?

"Not too well. Why are you using that magneto on her?"

"ĎCause Ol Judge, he says to hurt her. He donít want her marrying that guy."

"Then stop it. Sheís still recovering from surgery. Why do you think sheís wearing a chastity belt?"

"Cause she wants to screw the Judge over, so he canít have his partee."

"Think again. I just told you. She had surgery."

"Unh. Kainít stop Ďtil Ol Judge sez to."

"Iíll handle him. You leave her alone until I get back."

"OK, Doc. Itís yer funeral."