Caged - Chapter One free porn video

The cages were lined up against the wall. There were 20 of them, stacked two high, almost all filled with a beautiful naked girl. Each girl, in addition to the indignity of being squeezed into a 3’ x 3’ enclosure, was also handcuffed behind her back and had a crotch rope secured between her legs. The rope was rough, and it chafed. As a final torment, every girl had a pair of clamps secured to her nipples. Not just any old clamps, but jagged-toothed, tight clamps with a battery pack attached. The battery pack was for the shocks that were administered at random intervals between 10 and 15 minutes. Agonizing, terrible shocks that ripped screeches of anguish from the throats of their targets.

Katie didn’t know any of this when she arrived. All she knew was the terror of having been abducted off the street late one night when she was walking home. Katie was 15 years old, but extremely well-developed for her age. She had large but not too-large breasts, a trim waist, and a round, firm ass. Her hair was brunette, and her skin was creamy and smooth. Although she was the object of desire for the boys, and the envy of the girls, she was a virgin, having been brought up not to act like a whore.

All of this was exactly why she had been targeted.

No girl in those cages was above the age of 18, and the youngest, before Katie, was 16. The owners – of both the cages and the girls – were a group of men, some wealthy, some ex-military, but all lovers of torturing young beautiful girls. Katie was their latest, and perhaps greatest, score. None of them was under 35, and the oldest was in his late 50s.

The wealthy men provided the bankroll for the facility in which the girls were held captive – and used - and for the kidnap operations, and the military types provided the tactical skill to plan and carry out those operations.

It was the perfect win-win situation.

The only losers were the girls, whose very beauty and youth marked them as victims in the whole scheme. Again, Katie didn’t know about any of this; she simply was aware that a burly older man with a stubbly, hard face was leading her down a corridor gripping her by the upper arm. Her arms were cuffed behind her back, her shoes long since lost somewhere along the way. They turned and reached a doorway that led to a staircase down into the depths of whatever building they were in. She didn’t know what the building looked like or anything about its surroundings because until they got inside, she had been blindfolded.

When they reached the bottom of the staircase, they went through another doorway and she gasped in pure shock. This was the room with the cages. And not just the cages; it was a genuine torture chamber, with chains hanging from the ceiling, whips and riding crops and various other implements in neat racks along the opposite wall from the cages, and several tables, including one that looked somewhat like a gynecologist’s exam table.

The burly man didn’t give her much time to process all this new information; he simply took out a knife and started cutting away her clothes. She protested feebly, because he frightened her a great deal, but he went about the task in a businesslike manner, utterly indifferent to her complaints. When she was naked, he set about putting her crotch rope in place. It was rough and uncomfortable. As he was doing so, a blood-curdling shriek came from the direction of the cages. Katie’s head snapped up, her eyes wide.

“Why is she screaming?” she asked the burly man.

“You’re about to find out,” he growled, and walked over to a nearby cabinet, picking out a pair of clamps. He came back, grabbed her left breast, spread the jaws one of the clamps, and snapped it on.

She screamed.

The clamp’s jaws bit painfully into the virgin flesh of her nipple, causing tremendous pain even without a shock. Then he reached out and flipped the tiny switch on the battery pack that started the random timer. It was designed to send out an initial shock as well, which it then did.

This time, Katie collapsed to the floor as she screamed, loud and long. She hadn’t even stopped screaming when the man bent over her and snapped the second clamp on her right nipple, then turned it on. Her screams redoubled, reverberating through the room.

“Please! Please take them off!” she pleaded. Unsurprisingly, her pleas had no effect on the burly man. He simply grabbed her arm and dragged her to an empty cage. It was in the top row, so he went and fetched a small stepladder and told her to climb in. She did so, not wanting to be punished further. She didn’t know about the timer, thinking that the initial shock may have been a one-time thing meant to intimidate her into following orders.

It had certainly had that effect.

She crawled into the cage awkwardly with her hands still cuffed behind her back. She scrunched up, bending her knees and hunching her back. The man closed and locked the door of the cage.

“Bedtime is in one hour,” he said. “Clamps will be turned off remotely at that time. No talking. We can hear everything. Sweet dreams,” he said with more than a hint of irony.

She didn’t know what he meant about the clamps until a minute or so later when another girl screamed. Then it clicked. The shocks were on some kind of timer. They would be happening for the next hour.

She started crying. Sobbing, actually. Up til now, she hadn’t cried, thinking she would be rescued by her daddy or someone else. But for some reason, the inevitability of having to sit there and wait for another of those horrendous shocks to come, for the next hour, brought the reality of her situation down on her like a ton of bricks. It was unfair and horrific.

Time seemed to crawl by as all she could think about was when the next shock would come. Every couple of minutes, another girl would scream her head off and Katie would shiver, knowing that soon enough, she would be the one screaming.

When it came, it was so sudden and horrifying, she almost passed out. Instead, she screamed at the top of her lungs, a cry of anguish and pain, leaving her breathless.

Three more shocks came after that before they were finally allowed a reprieve. The lights went out and they were left in total darkness. Katie didn’t know if she could sleep, despite the last hour having completely exhausted her.

Eventually though, in spite of her fear, the remaining pain from the clamps themselves, and the discomfort of the cage, she did drift off to sleep.

She awoke the next morning screaming in agony from yet another shock. This one lasted ten full seconds, instead of the usual one or two. It was a makeshift alarm clock and it had the intended effect. Katie could hear the other girls screaming right along with her.

The lights came on, and suddenly a group of 7 or 8 men paraded into the room. All of them looked old to her teenage eyes. The men stood in a line facing the cages. The first man in line came directly to Katie’s cage, bringing along the stepladder, and unlocked it. He opened the door and ordered her out. She placed her bare feet gingerly onto the ladder and managed to work her way out by scooting her ass along the bottom of the cage. The man offered her no assistance.

“Follow me,” he ordered her curtly. She did so, crotch rope chafing at her thighs and sex.

They walked back out the door from last night and up the staircase. Back out the door at the top of the staircase and to the right, then down a few doors. The man stopped at a door that looked no different to her than any of the others. They walked in, and Katie stopped, stunned.

The room was a miniature replica of the downstairs torture chamber, complete with whips, ceiling chains, and a gynecologist’s table. This one, however, also contained a plush couch and pair of easy chairs, along with a table containing food and refreshments.

The main turned, grabbing her arm and pulling her the rest of the way in. He then locked the door with a key card, which he put in his pocket. He motioned her toward one of the easy chairs. She sat on the front edge of it, her cuffed arms preventing her from sitting back any further.

“Now I want you to listen to me very carefully. You are here because we like to rape and torture pretty young girls like you. You are not a “slave”; you are beneath even that low title. You are simply a plaything, here to give us pleasure from your suffering. I chose you today because I was fortunate enough to have first choice in the rotation. You will be chosen first for a long time, because you have a look that drives men like us wild. You are a beautiful girl, Katherine. I can’t wait to watch you suffer.”

By the time this little speech was halfway over, Katie’s body was wracked with sobs. She barely heard the rest.

“Do you know what facefucking is, Katherine?”

“N-No,” she squeaked out, still crying.

“Well, you’re about to find out. On your knees!” he barked.

Still too stunned to move, Katie sat there unmoving. The man grinned.

“Well, it looks like first you’ll find out what happens when you disobey orders.”

He walked over to a rack on the wall and ***********ed a thin wood rod. He came back and, without ceremony, raised it high in the air and brought it down very hard on the tops of her breasts. She screamed. He did it again. And again and again and again. She tried to move away from the terrible blows, but he easily held her by the arm. He landed a shot right across both nipples, and again Katie nearly passed out from the pain. Finally, after hitting her 15 or 20 times, he stopped.

“Now, let’s try this again. On your knees,” he said matter-of-factly.

She got on her knees.

“Open your mouth and keep it all the way open. If I feel the slightest touch of a tooth, I’ll beat your tits and cunt for an hour. Understood?”

“Yes,” she said, not really understanding but not wanting to make him angry. She opened her mouth as wide as she could and waited.

He unzipped his fly and pulled out what seemed to her to be a massive penis that was already hard. She knew about erections from health class but had never seen one. He walked over to her and shoved it in her mouth. When it hit the back of her throat she immediately gagged. This didn’t deter him; he kept pushing, she kept gagging, and eventually she vomited. It went all over his member, his pants, his shoes, and the floor.

She expected him to be angry with her; instead, he laughed.

“That’s a new record for me,” he said merrily. “All of twenty seconds. Most girls last at least a minute or two. You really are going to be a fun one.”

For the next twenty minutes, he forced himself into her mouth. He would alternate between a slow, rhythmic in-and-out motion and jamming himself all the way to the back of her throat again and holding it there while she struggled to breathe. She would gasp and kick and try to pull her head away, but he was far too strong for her. She gagged and retched and threw up many times, until finally her stomach was empty. Then she dry heaved. And she cried. His clothing, her face, and the floor in front of her were both covered in her vomit and saliva.

After what seemed like an eternity, he pulled his massive penis out of her mouth and began stroking it right in front of her face. At first she couldn’t understand what was happening. Then he came, shooting massive amounts of sperm in her eyes, up her nose, in her hair, and on her forehead and cheeks. She had never felt so humiliated in all her life. She sobbed with renewed vigor.

He stepped back and began to remove his soiled clothes. He placed them in a pile nearby and said “Later, you’re going to hand scrub those. But first things first, you’re going to clean up the mess you’ve made on the floor. There’s a bucket of water and a bunch of rags over in the corner there.” He went and sat in the other easy chair.

Katie looked at him, dumbfounded.

“You know the penalty for disobedience. Get moving.”

Katie sobbed. “But my hands are still cuffed. How will I-“

“Figure it out. Now.”

Slowly, Katie got to her feet, his sperm dripping down her face and onto her breasts. She stepped gingerly around the puddle and walked over to the indicated corner to retrieve the cleaning implements. First she picked up the bucket by squatting down in front of it, facing away, and grabbing the handle in both hands. She carried it awkwardly over to the puddle, then went back to retrieve the rags. She dropped all but one in a pile next to the bucket, then dipped the rag in her hands into the bucket by repeating the earlier squatting movement. This time, she was almost right in front of the man, and she realized that by squatting down she was leaving her privates completely exposed except for the crotch rope, which was relatively thin. The man was not passing up the opportunity to leer at her, either, she saw when she stole a glance at him.

She stood up quickly, but was again forced to squat in order to start what was sure to be a painstaking process of cleaning up her own sick. He didn’t take his eyes off her.

“So,” he said casually, “what shoe size do you wear?”

Startled at the apparent randomness of the question, she nonetheless answered quickly in order to avoid angering him. “Six,” she muttered, sniffling.

“And do you always keep your nails unpainted?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” he asked curiously.

“My parents say only whores paint their nails.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “Well, I prefer red, so from now on, on days when I have you, the first thing you’ll do is paint both your fingers and toes.”

“I- I don’t know how.”

“Next time I’ll bring an extra girl along and have her show you.”

Katie went on with her task, neither agreeing nor protesting, but simply accepting the stated fact. Internally, she was roiling at this new humiliation. She couldn’t even begin to process what had just been done to her, but this was something she could grasp. Since she was a little girl, her parents had been very clear about the use of cosmetics. It was for harlots and skanks, not good girls. Why would he want to make her into a whore? It was clear he could do whatever he wanted to her; what was the point of this extra degradation?

Finally, after at least a half hour of sopping and scrubbing awkwardly, she had the mess cleaned up to his satisfaction.

“Well done!” he said cheerily. “Now it’s on to the day’s next entertainment.”

He stood up and walked over to her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her along, over to one of the chains hanging down from the ceiling. At the end of the chain was a clasp, which he fastened to the smaller chain between her handcuffs. He then walked over to the wall and pressed the topmost of two buttons set in there. Suddenly she felt pressure on her wrists, pulling them slowly but inexorably upward. She raised her arms as far back as they would go, but the pressure continued until she was forced up onto her toes to relieve it. Finally, when she was all the way up on her tiptoes and her shoulders were in considerable pain, it stopped.

She was crying again, this time with an edge of hysteria. This must be the torture he had talked about, though why one human being would want to do this to another was beyond her. It just didn’t make sense.

The man went back to where they had been sitting and retrieved his wooden rod. He walked up behind her and stood there for a moment. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but after a minute or two she heard a swish, a crack and then felt a blinding pain in her butt. She screamed. Again the swish-crack followed by pain. Again, this time in her thighs. Suddenly the blows were coming fast and furious, almost too quick to separate them out. She screamed in abject pain and misery.

He stopped. Grabbing her shoulders, he turned her around to face the sitting area, forcing her to sort of dance on her toes. Through her tears she could see him walk over to the food table and make himself up a plate. He went and sat in an easy chair and proceeded to enjoy his breakfast while she hung there, toes beginning to cramp and shoulders in agony.

As she watched him eat, she was very conscious of the contrast between their situations. She felt less than human, like a mere object or toy he was playing with.

“Please,” she said. “I’m in so much pain. Can’t you let me down?”

He smirked at her. “Now why would I do that?”

She hesitated, a little taken aback. She wasn’t sure how to answer, because to her it was so obvious. “I- I guess because I’ve never done anything bad to you and you have no reason to h- hurt me.”

He laughed. “But I already told you, I like making pretty young girls suffer. Your pain is my pleasure.”

“But why?” she asked plaintively, the pain in her shoulders making her voice tremble.

“To be perfectly honest with you,” he said with a chuckle, “I don’t know. It’s just always been true.”

An idea struck her. “What if I just pretended for you? Like acting. Wouldn’t that be the same?”

Again the laugh. “No, it wouldn’t. I have a sharp eye for fakeness, and when I detect it, it’s a big turn-off. Enough talking for now.”

He had finished his food and now stood up. He walked over to retrieve a whip from the wall rack. She stared at it apprehensively. Could it be even worse than the wooden rod? Could anything be worse than that? She expected she was about to find out.

“Please,” she begged. “Please no more. I’ll do whatever you want.”

He hesitated. “Anything?” he asked, a note of anticipation creeping into his voice.

“Anything!” she said. “Just please let me down.”

“Will you take it up the ass?”

She didn’t even know what that meant, but it couldn’t be worse than this. “Yes!” she cried, feeling her first surge of hope since being abducted.

“Oh,” he said. “Well, you’re going to do that anyway.”

Her optimism vanished. “What?” she asked.

“You’re going to take it up the ass no matter what,” he said. “In fact, there is absolutely nothing you could offer me that I can’t already have from you. So I wouldn’t waste my breath if I were you. You’re about to need it.”

And with that he drew his arm back and swung the whip. It snapped into her back with stunning intensity, sending fresh shockwaves of agony through her body. She screamed and screamed. Another blow came, and another and another. Back-back-ass. She couldn’t believe how much it hurt; it was worse than the wooden rod for sure. Then he went around to the front and fired a shot into her breasts, and finally, one into her crotch. Of all the pain she’d felt in the last day, that one was by far the worst. Her screams echoed through the room, and she had trouble catching her breath.

“Please!” she shrieked when she finally did. “It hurts too much! I can’t take it!”

“Sweetheart,” he said drily, “if you haven’t figured out yet that that’s the whole point, then you’re just not that smart. Also, I might add that your begging only serves to excite me further, a fact that you’re about to have demonstrated to your distinct discomfort.”

He set the whip down and walked over to a door in a corner of the room. He came back carrying what looked like a large I.V. bag with a tube attached to it, and another, bigger bucket, empty this time. He placed the bucket behind her and hung the bag on a hook set into the nearby wall.

“Now, my sweet, have you ever had an enema before?” he asked.

“N-no,” she replied unsteadily, still shaken up from the whipping, not even knowing what it was.

“Well,” he said. “What I’m going to do is insert this tube into your anus, then allow the water from the bag to flow into it. That will clean your insides out so I can fuck you in the ass. Your job, and I expect you to do it well, is to hold the water in as long as I tell you to, then let it out into the bucket. If so much as one drop spills on the floor, you will receive 10 more lashes with the whip, at least three of which will be on your sweet little pussy. Then you will lick up whatever was spilled. If you’re a good girl and hold it in til I tell you, then I promise not to whip you anymore, for now.”

Her tears were flowing freely by the time he finished speaking. She nodded in understanding even though she still barely knew what he meant about “fucking her up the ass” or how she was supposed to hold water in her butt. But she would do anything to avoid more whipping.

First she felt his finger in there with some kind of oil on it. Then in went the tube. He wasted no time releasing the constrictor clip on the tube and she felt the water start flowing in. It was very uncomfortable, but at first not too painful. Then as her intestines began to fill it started to hurt, though not near as bad as the whip. Then a cramp hit her. It was miserable, but cramps at least were something she had dealt with before. After a few minutes the flow of water stopped.

“Just a reminder: not a drop goes on the floor or you get 10 lashes,” he said and pulled the tube out.

She squeezed her butt cheeks as tight as she could, hoping it would be enough to keep the water in. It seemed it was, because the man just stood there watching her. A few minutes went by and she began trembling with the effort of squeezing her cheeks so tight. He continued to stand there with a slight smile on his face, apparently enraptured by her struggles.

After a few more minutes, she was reaching the limits of her capacity. She decided not to bother pleading, though, because she knew it would have no effect. Instead, she closed her eyes and concentrated on not letting go. The seconds dragged by.

Finally, he said simply “Good girl,” walked around behind her, held the bucket up under her butt, and said “Let go”. And she did. The water gushed out of her like it was fired from a high-pressure hose. He stood there catching it with the bucket until it stopped.

By this time, both her shoulders and toes ached horribly, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could last in this position. Fortunately, he set the bucket down and walked over to the buttons on the wall. He pressed the bottom one and she felt the pressure on her shoulders slowly begin to ease. Her arms came down and for the first time in what seemed like forever, she was able to stand flat-footed. He walked up behind her and released the hanging chain from her cuffs. She shook her arms as best she could, trying to relieve the ache in her shoulders. It was bad, but so much better now that she was down from that horrible position.

Her relief, however, was short-lived.

“Kneel down,” he told her, “and bend forward til your face is on the floor. Then spread your knees.”

She did her best to comply with her hands still bound behind her back. When she was in position, he knelt behind her and once again inserted his oily finger into her anus. Then he pulled it out and she felt something hard and much thicker pressing against her butthole. Was that his penis? Is this what “fucking her up the ass” meant? Again, she couldn’t understand. Penises were supposed to go in vaginas to make babies. It didn’t make sense to put one in somebody’s butt.

Then it started to really hurt. And she understood.

He kept pushing and pushing, and the further he went the more it hurt. He pushed and pushed, and the pain got steadily worse. Then she felt a sort of “pop” and he groaned in satisfaction. Then he pulled it almost all the way back out and started again. She thought he was going to tear her apart as he went much faster this time, and once again she started screaming and crying. And this time, futile or not, she couldn’t help but beg him to stop.

He kept going anyway, picking up the pace and slamming himself into her. Over and over she felt the near-tearing sensation, then a brief reprieve as he pulled back, then in again, stretching to the point of breaking. The pain was terrible. She begged and begged, but he ignored her desperate pleas. Finally, after what seemed like forever but was probably only a few minutes, he thrust in again, grunted, held it there, and she felt a warm sensation flooding into her rectum. After another minute or so he pulled it out, then walked around in front of her and told her to sit up. She did, and he moved his penis toward her mouth, ordering her “Clean it off.”

She looked at him, truly shocked this time, sobbing “B-but that was just in my butt. It’s dirty.”

He smirked down at her. “I will remind you one more time of the penalty for disobedience.” And he pushed his penis toward her mouth again.

This time, remembering the wooden rod on her breasts, she opened her mouth and took him in, using her tongue to clean the gooey fluid off. She kept retching as she did it, which only made him seem to enjoy the process more. Eventually he pulled himself out.

“Good girl,” he said again. “How did you like your first anal experience?”

She just looked at him, tears running down her face, feeling utterly and completely degraded.

“About as expected. I do so enjoy popping a young girl’s anal cherry. So much better when they dislike it as much as you clearly did. Come with me. On your knees; don’t stand up.” She shuffled along behind him on her knees back over to that terrible chain hanging down from the ceiling. When he stopped there she cried out, again begging him not to put her back into the awful position.

He grinned. “Don’t worry, my dear; I’m not going to. I have something new for you to try.”

She slumped, relieved. He walked around behind her and unlocked one of her cuffs, moving her arms around in front of her and re-fastening the open one. Then he walked over and lowered the chain til it was able to reach her wrists, and again attached it to the connecting chain. Then he went over and pressed the button to raise the chain, and it went slowly up until her arms were stretched directly above her head. He retrieved some rope from a wall cabinet, came back to her, and began tying the rope to her ankles, each one with a separate rope. Then he bent each leg up double so that her ankles were next to her thighs, and tied the other end of the rope to her upper thigh, leaving each ankle firmly attached. She was left on her knees on the hard floor, body stretched to accommodate the pressure on her arms.

Next he went and grabbed the wooden rod. He came back and knelt behind her, trailing his finger over the soles of her feet. “Such beautiful, soft soles,” he said a bit dreamily. Then he suddenly stood up, drew back his arm, and brough the rod down hard on both feet at the same time, eliciting a wail of pain. He repeated the stroke, even harder this time. Again and again he hit her, much like he had with her breasts, but if possible her soles were even more tender. She had always had sensitive feet.

It went on for several minutes, with her doing what little she could to move her feet out of the way, but it was ineffective, and by the end she was a blubbering, hysterical mess. When he finished, he moved around to her front and gave her a few quick, sharp strokes on the breasts again. Finally he stopped, leaving her tied as she was and going to sit down in his easy chair.

Taking in her tear-stained face and quivering body, he gave her a lopsided grin. “You like?” he asked sardonically.

This time she answered directly, hoping against hope that he might show her mercy. “I hate it,” she breathed softly. “This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. Please, please let me go.”

He drew in a breath and looked serene. “I was hoping you would say something like that. It’s good to have confirmation that my work is appreciated.”

“Will you please at least let me down from here? My knees really hurt.”

“At some point, my dear, you’re going to have to learn that you don’t get to make requests of me. Your role is as my plaything, and it’s your job to suffer for my amusement and gratification. It’s your first day, so I’m allowing you a lot of leeway when it comes to your behavior, but that will not continue. I expect you to be obedient and silent except when I’m making you scream. Understood?”

She looked at him, hoping she would see some indication of give in his eyes. She saw none. They were hard as diamond.

“Yes,” she said finally. “I understand.”

“Good!” he said brightly. “Then I think it is indeed time to let you down from there so we can move on to the next activity.” He walked over to the wall buttons and let the chain down enough that there was slack. She had trouble staying balanced on her knees. He continued to let it down, and eventually she just toppled over onto her front, arms awkwardly bent in front of her to break her fall.

He laughed, knowing he had caused it by not untying her legs first. Then he came over and unclipped the ceiling chain, unlocking a cuff and moving her arms back behind her. “Follow me,” he said simply.

He walked over to another corner of the room where there was a small cage similar to the ones in the downstairs torture chamber. She hadn’t even noticed it before. He stood there, watching her. She stared at him.

“How can I get over there tied up like this?” she asked plaintively.

“I suggest you figure it out, quickly,” he said flatly.

She rolled on her side. She bent at the waist, bringing her knees up to her chest, and rolled again, this time onto her front, bringing her knees under her. She scooted around to face the cage and started to lunge, left knee first, then right, and slowly, agonizingly, made her way across the room. When she reached him, he ordered her into the cage, and she did her best to comply, lunging in.

Once she was all the way in and kneeling in the center, he closed and locked the door. Then he went and picked up what looked like a space heater and set it right in front of the cage facing her. He plugged it in to a wall outlet, then turned it on. A wash of air flooded over her, room temperature at first but then gradually heating up. At first it was like a warm bath, but after a minute or two it got uncomfortable, then very uncomfortable, then it felt like she was getting sunburned all over. She hunched up, trying to shield her face, but could do very little with her arms behind her back. It didn’t even do any good to turn towards the wall, because the heat just reflected back at her face.

He reached down and adjusted a setting on the machine, and at least the heat stopped increasing.

“Turn toward me, sit down and spread your legs,” he ordered her. She did so. He reached through the bars of the cage and pulled her forward by her left ankle. He then proceeded to loop a rope through the existing rope on that ankle and tie the other end to the cage. He did the same on the right ankle. At least while he was there, blocked some of the air flow from the heater. But as soon as he was finished, he stood up and moved away, allowing the air to blast directly onto her front. Onto her face and breasts and stomach.

Onto her vagina.

She sobbed as it began to burn.

She watched as he walked back over to the sitting area, grabbed some kind of tablet, and plopped into an easy chair. He started fiddling on the tablet, seemingly no longer concerned with her.

“How long are you going to leave me here?” she whined over the noise of the heater.

“Hm? Oh, I don’t know, an hour or two. Longer the more you interrupt me while I’m working.”

She wailed in utter and complete misery. An hour? Two? She didn’t know if she could stand two more minutes of this. It wasn’t like the whipping, but it was just as bad in its own way. Rather than a sharp, intense strike, it was an all-over stinging sensation, especially on her sex.

The one nice thing about the heat was that it was drying her tears. She would have laughed at that if she hadn’t been in so much pain. Instead, she went right on crying.

As she sat there, because there was nothing else to do, she took stock of the rest of her body. Semen was still caked in her hair and on her forehead, though her tears had washed it out of her eyes and off her cheeks, for the most part. Her shoulders were still sore but the ache was gradually fading. Her breasts were still in considerable pain from the nipple clamps, but at least she hadn’t gotten another shock. Her knees hurt, and her feet hurt a lot.

All this did was make her feel worse about her situation. She wondered if he would really leave her here for two hours, or even one. She wondered if there were anything at all she could do to get him to go easy on her. Please him in some way. As the minutes dragged by and she squirmed around trying to find some way to avoid the heat, she thought about it, but nothing occurred to her. He had made it clear that he was only interested in her as a thing to be tormented, not as a person.

That didn’t leave her much to work with.

Then something occurred to her.

“Um, mister?” she said tentatively.

He sighed. “I thought I made clear that I did not want to be interrupted.”

“I know,” she said, “and I’m sorry. It’s just- I thought you’d like my idea.”

“Oh, really” he said doubtfully. “And what’s that?”

“Well, could I- could I put on lipstick for you?”

He snorted. “Lipstick? Why would you want to do that? I thought it made you a whore.”

“I don’t,” she said quickly. “But I would- I would do it for you.”

“Would you now,” he said mockingly. “And why would you want to do something for me? It certainly wouldn’t be some lame attempt to manipulate me into going easy on you, would it?” he asked as if he had read her thoughts.

“N-no! I promise! I just thought you would like it, that’s all.”

“First of all,” he said, “it is a good idea, but it’s one I’d already had. I simply hadn’t informed you yet. Now that we’re on the subject, you will also be wearing blush and eye shadow. In fact, you’re going to get done up like a proper little doxy the next time I have you. Which might be tomorrow, if I can work a deal with some of my friends here in this little group of kidnappers.”

“Which brings me to my second point: I am busy trying to make said deal. If you interrupt me again, you will be hung from the ceiling by your wrists without even your toes touching the ground and lashed 25 times, 10 of which will be on your little virgin cunt. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” she said meekly. “I’m sorry.”

She sobbed quietly, doing her best not to interrupt him but unable to contain her anguish completely. She just didn’t know what to do. The minutes ticked slowly by. He continued working away at the tablet, til finally, after what seemed like ages but was probably only half an hour, he crowed triumphantly.

She looked up, startled, snapped out of a reverie about whether she would ever get back to her normal life.

“You’ll be happy to know, my sweet little kitten, that you and I will be spending the next week together. I’ve made a deal to trade my next six times at number one in the rotation. Aren’t you thrilled?” he asked wryly.

“Um… yes?” she said tentatively, not sure whether he even wanted her to answer.

He laughed. “Good! Let’s celebrate.”

“H-how?” she asked.

“The only way I can think of. I’m going to hang you by your wrists, without even your toes touching the ground, and I’m going to whip you. 25 times.”

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