My slave will orgasm at the sight of a brick. A plain, common everyday brick, the kind you build walls and houses and sheds with. Just why she reacts so violently after one glance is a lesson for some of the less-than-perfect slaves who might be allowed to read this. I'm sure the Masters and Mistresses will be amused.

When I think back to what triggered this - to say the least - obsession with one of the most non-erotic objects around, I am reminded of the old English expression referring to a misdeed as "She really inked her blotter." This fuckup of a slave poured at least a five gallon jug of black ink on her blotter.

I'm not going to embarrass myself further by detailing just what it is she did as it suggests or implies that I failed to train her properly. This I will deny.

It revealed a carefully hidden flaw in her character that would have tripped up almost any Master or Mistress. Punishing the slave thus became my obsession.

I had adequate facilities to handle the job. Without bragging, I have one of the better equipped dungeons in a wide area. A favor offered to a judge got her out of jail and back into my much less comfortable confinement. She got a welcome 'home' from three of the nastiest whips that I own. I admit to being thoroughly pissed, so I let her cool her heels for several days.

The judge's WIFE called to redeem the favor! She gave me their address and a time, that evening. I had a special set of display chains, thin but strong enough to lift a sumo wrestler off the ground. They connected both wrists to slave's collar, both wrists to her belt and both wrists to her ankle hobbles. I cranked her jaw down with a dental clamp, installed a leather hood, grabbed a whip, hung a cape over her nude body and away we went.

I forgot to mention that she was wearing her specially made punishment boots. Let's just say they are for display only. I made her walk in them for the first time, out to the garage and into the car, where she had to sit on a prickly 'Welcome' mat.

At the judge's house the door was up on one stall, so I drove in. I took her cape off and threw it in the back seat. A swishing touch here and there got her moving again, but with a lot less enthusiasm until I put some swing behind her encouragement.

The Judge was waiting in the doorway. He led the way back into the basement. His dungeon rivaled mine up to a point. I had several pieces of apparatus that he didn't have, but he had one or two I didn't. His wife was seated in a comfortable chair. Her eyes lit up as she saw my leashed slave.

She got first dibs, exposing a healthy second head of hair. I offered to remove the mouth clamp, but she shook her head and started pushing slave's face into her pussy. As soon as she recovered from her first swift orgasm I walked slave on her knees to the Judge. She was good, so the Judge didn't last long either.

I spent a delightful evening chatting with the two while slave repeated her circuit several times, including me after the first round. When we headed for home I was satisfied that I had cemented a potentially rewarding friendship.

Neither the judge nor his wife had even raised an eyebrow at the slave's significant bondage. If I guessed correctly she was the dominant of the pair.

Of course nobody asked slave's opinion about anything. In her hood she hadn't seen who she was satisfying and our conversation would have been meaningless. Fortunately for her she had tended strictly to business, giving me no excuse to punish her. As I drove I decided to give her a dozen with the cane for no particular reason, just to cap off the evening. Besides, she was due to start in the morning with her punishment for screwing up so badly. I planned to tell her that after I caned her.

I woke up early the next morning, so I started slave's day early as well. An hour or two tacked onto her sentence was a drop in the bucket. I dismantled her restraints, toileted her, fed her and then led her to her fate.

Looming overhead was a cage, hauled nearly to the ceiling by a steel cable. I won't tell you the dimensions, just let you imagine a 'small' cage. Not just a few bars with room to dangle the legs outside. The ends, sides, top and bottom were riveted strips of steel with less than hand-sized holes. The protruding stems of the rivets were naturally on the inside, raising the discomfort level by several stages. This was a specially constructed punishment cage, so don't try this at home. Kneeling on rivets is not comfortable.

I drew the slave's eyes away from the cage with the cane. "Why am I punishing you?"

Her eyes bored into the cement floor. "Master, I fucked up."

"Badly. Very badly."

"Master, I fucked up badly. Very badly." She wasn't just repeating, she understood fully, and was acknowledging what she had done. Now it was time to pay the piper.

"90 days. No talking, not even to answer a direct question.  If you can't answer with a nod or shake you're screwed."

"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master." She couldn't help raising her eyes to the torture cage above her. She could swear it had shrunk a foot in all directions.

To me, she was getting off easy. If I had sentenced her when I first knew about it, she would have spent the rest of her natural life in a cage. I was down to 10 years by the time I got her home, but there's a limit to a man's patience. She was too good a slave to waste forever in a cage. I didn't tell her that she would be leaving the cage at regular intervals in strenuous and painful bondage to service me. Telling her that would come later. A trick or two that I had planned would come later, or sooner.

I lowered the cage to allow her to see her close quarters. I removed the open padlock and opened the end. She crawled in, crouched down in a deep squat. The cage was too small for her to turn around and reach the door, but the outside lock was well protected from prying hands anyway.

First making sure that all was in order, I raised the cane and hit the side of the cage, causing her to flinch from the loud sound. Rubbing it in I said "90 days," and walked away. I debated putting her in shackles and decided against it. She would have enough problems as it was.

With slave's sentence started, I had time to work on damage control. It took two lawyers and an accountant, plus a heart to heart talk with the judge to straighten out her mess. Headaches like this I did not need. Every time I thought of slave I added another year to her sentence. But, I was so relieved when it went away that I went back to 90 days.

Any of you readers who have experienced life in a cage know that it is not a loving, friendly place to be. A difference in size measured in inches can mean the difference between excruciating and very painful. A confinement cage differs from a punishment cage in a variety of ways, such as the mentioned rivets. In either you are bent over, unable to raise your head, weight on body parts not meant for long term support. Arms and legs are simply in the way, useless. Comfort can't be mentioned in the same sentence.

A video camera kept tabs on the caged slave, feeding monitors I could find in every room. She was valuable property, despite her crime, so I had no intention of slipping up and losing her.

I got her attention, banging on the cage with the cane. I mentally noted another flinch. I would now hit her cage any time I came near her.

I picked up a brick from the nearby pile and opened her cage door. "Do you see the pile of bricks?" She peered through one of the holes and nodded. I slid the one I was holding into the cage.

"There are 90 bricks in the pile. Among other things this will be your calendar. You will get a brick added to your cage every day. When all 90 are in there, your 'original' sentence will be complete. I suspect you will be somewhat cramped for space near the end of your sentence."

The slave nodded, waiting for me to finish. She knew me well.

"Since the bricks are the only extra objects in your cage, you will be tempted to use them to masturbate with. You are forbidden to finger yourself, have an orgasm or use a brick for any purpose. Each violation of this special rule will add five days to your sentence. Understood?"

Slave nodded, suppressing a sigh. She had seriously believed she might be able to pleasure herself because I hadn't expressly forbidden it, beyond the standard rule that she had to have permission at any time. She hadn't stopped to think that with my gag rule she couldn't ask permission anyway.

Until I mentioned it she hadn't even considered the possible use of one of the bricks to satisfy herself. At first glance it didn't make sense. The surface of a brick is rougher than most grades of sandpaper. But, just the thought jolted something deep inside, bumping up her arousal. She tried to hide it from me, but I could read her easily. My idea was bearing fruit.

Days passed. Bricks accumulated in her cage. Any time she was taken out the bricks came out first, and went back in after she was in residence. I could tell, even from what little I could see of her face that she was fixating on the bricks. I added fuel to the fire by instructing her to 'warm' each new brick by holding it out in front of her with one hand for an hour. This gave her some little physical activity but it also reinforced the fixation.

Later she admitted that staring at the brick in her hand had repeatedly assaulted her mind with vivid pictures of her rubbing the brick against her cunt. At first they were momentary flashes but her overactive mind - with lots and lots of time - evolved the flashes into lengthy scenes where the sharp-edged friction brought her off.

She hid as much of this from me as she could, but her eyes gave her away every time. I let her have her fun. The entertaining part for me was that she was constantly looking about her cage, wondering where there was any more room for bricks. After all, she and the bricks were sharing a quite small space. She had room for a row on each side of her, but both sides pressed against her so the slightest movement refreshed her memory of how rough the bricks were.

By the end of the second month the situation was becoming critical. Slave had a U-shaped pile of bricks taking up space by her feet. I looked in and did some mental calculations. It would be a tight squeeze, and slave would be pinned in a corner, but it would work. I had to eliminate warming the bricks because of a lack of room for her to hold it out in front of her, but that didn't stop her from fantasizing about her bricks. She didn't dare wiggle as I had mounted a new camera inside her cage, but her mind raged, almost unchecked. I could see that she was fighting to control her fantasies. The question was whether she could stay in control for the full 90 days.

The last 10 days I took her out of the cage each day for several hours to service me and the staff. She had no room to move at all. Moving the bricks in and out of the cage satisfied at least part of her physical needs, but the wall of bricks was working (wonders?) on her mind. She would focus on a brick and stare for long minutes. I would have liked to have had a monitor attached to that brain to see exactly what her fantasy was creating.

Slave spent the last day of her sentence nearly crushed by the tight piles of bricks around her. There wasn't room for even half a brick. When it ended she passed out the bricks that had to be removed before she could back out of the cage.

Slave knelt before me. "Was it a fitting punishment?

She nodded emphatically.

"Will you fuck up again?" She almost unscrewed her head shaking it violently.

"Your punishment is ended. You may speak."

Unused vocal cords squeaked, "Thank you, Master. Thank you, Master for punishing me. This slave has been taught her faults well."

"There is one more brick in the cage. Remove it and go to your quarters.

"Yes, Master." She hurried to the cage, reached in and slid the brick out. For some reason she held it out to warm.' She stared at it. Never raising her eyes from it she said urgently, "Master, may I come?"

I was ready, but my "Yes" was drowned out by a 90-day wonder of a scream. Slave was not to be denied.

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Since then I've had to keep her away from brick walls. They get her aroused to the point of dripping. Just looking at a single brick with set her off and if she touches it she's good for a really major climax. To each her own, but I love my slave anyway.

I have another, smaller cage, just big enough for slave and one brick. I wonder how many orgasms she would have if I let her go with that brick touching her all the time?