This work Copyright (C) 2001, by Caitlain McCarren. I
reserve all rights of distribution not otherwise expressly
granted herein.
Should you like my works and wish to add my to your
collection, you are at liberty to do so for personal use as
proscribed by the Berne Convention and U. S. Copyright law
pertaining to fair use. In addition, electronic
distribution is allowed through BBS or the Internet as long
as the text retains my by-line, copyright data, and
signature, and no fee for this transmission is charged or
required by the transmitter.
Transmission or distribution by all other modes; print,
duplication to optical or magnetic media, and such other
modes as may be currently or ultimately provided, are
expressly forbidden. I, Caitlain McCarren, retain all
rights to such transmission.
In addition, this is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to
or association with persons living or dead is coincidental.
I describe situations, which without proper care could cause
bodily harm or injury. Fiction is best left as such. Don't
attempt any of what is described herein without providing
utmost care and consideration before the fact.
To close, this story, while work of fiction, describes adult
situations. If you are not yet of the age of majority, or
if accessing, reading, possessing, or distributing material
of this nature is illegal in your community; or if such
material offends you, I invite you to leave now, before you
begin.
DOOMED TO THE DUNGEON
I felt the whoosh of air as the door opened, and, through the
hood, heard the metallic clank as it crashed against the
stone wall of my prison cell. She tugged at the rope binding
my right ankle to my tightly bound wrists and released it to
thud limply to the floor, asleep. Asleep for what seemed to
me to be days. Days of merciless rope restraint.
She unlatched the rope holding the bar that put the twist in
the tether between my elbows, bound together for all this
unknown period, and used to pull me up and stand me on the
toes of my left foot. I felt the sudden release and ducked,
instinctively, the spinning bar lest it strike me in the
head, adding insult to my injuries, and felt some minor form
of relief as my four inch stiletto heel touched ground.
I was still unable to shift my foot for the stock used to
keep me from spinning myself free of my bondage. "Have to go
to the bathroom?" she asked hurriedly. I nodded
affirmatively. She unlatched the hood and unscrewed the
metal bands securing it to me and maintaining my head in
constant compression since she was here last. The sudden
rush of blood to the top of my head only increased the
amplitude of the throbbing already there. She unlatched the
foot stock and helped me free myself, then grabbed stiffly at
my shoulder and motioned me along to the dirtier little room
with what once must have passed for a commode.
She stood me in front of it and forced me into a semi-squat,
not allowing me to sit. I voided myself as she donned rubber
gloves and minimally cleaned me up. I murmured my relief
past my brank, causing her to comment "Shut up!, you cunt.
No communication beyond yes and no." She marched me back to
the dark little 4x6 foot room with the single bare bulb. She
backed me up to the foot stock and placed my left foot back
in it, latching it shut. She connected the tether to my
elbows again and used the rope to tie my right foot once
again to my wrists.
"Hungry?" she asked. Again I nodded affirmatively. She
released the tension on my brank and removed it from my
mouth, admonishing me, "Not a out of you, little one.
Don't make me angrier than I already am." She picked up the
pot of nauseating gruel, now turned, and there since I can
remember. She scooped out a dollop and sniffed, gagging.
"How can you eat this, little one." I hungrily snapped at it
when offered, smart enough not to respond to her rejoinder,
"I certainly couldn't eat that." She scooped out and
offered another at arms length and forced me to sniff at it
while I tried to liberate it from the spoon with my tongue.
I caught a whiff and turned my head to stifle the gag, but
when I came back up, caught the spoon in my mouth and
swallowed hard, laughing back at her teasing with my eyes.
"Well, quite enough of that. Thirsty?" she asked, showing me
the bottle of water. I nodded, again. She pulled the cork
on the bottle and inserted a straw all the way to the bottom.
"Take a breath, dear one." I took a big breath, not knowing
what she was about, until she reached up and covered my mouth
and pinched my nose. "Now, you can have only as much water
as you can now draw through the straw until you have to
breath out. Start to catch your breath and the water goes
away, got it?" I nodded again and she put the straw to my
lips. I started to draw, expanding my chest as much as I
could. It was enough to splash a little on my tongue, was
all. Not enough, even, to as it was instantly
absorbed on my parched lips. Worse, the effort had seemingly
caused a muscle pull in my chest and I now felt a stabbing
pain under my left breast. She pinched my nipples hard,
both at the same time and sent a knife hot pain all the way
to my groin.
"There, there, dear." she whispered as I gritted my teeth
hard to prevent my crying out. "Feeling better?"
She paused a moment and said "Take a breath, dear." She
looked crushed when I wouldn't comply. "Won't play? I've
half a mind to truss you back up and leave."
"Please, Mistress!" I blurted out.
"That will cost you the bite of the whip latter." She calmly
replied, continuing, "Since you are talking, tell me
something. Make it something I want to hear. It has been
some time since I heard you're voice. I think I miss it,
just a little."
This I understood to be my one chance to grovel and possibly
see some release from this hell sometime in this lifetime. I
leapt before I thought, knowing, if I took to long...,
"Mistress, I'm sorry, so sorry, I was masturbating. It's
just that it had been so many days since you had payed any
attention to me at all. I guess I thought... I wasn't
thinking... I was just mad, mad I tell you. Mad with the
thought you may not want me anymore. Mad to know you could
have other concerns. Jealous, I was jealous. Jealous of
your time with her, the new one. If you could have just
reassured..."
She interrupted, "Jealous, were you. You did that to get my
attention? Got it you did. Is this true?"
The look on my face as she stared me down told her the truth
of it. "Then it is as much a failure on my part as it was on
yours. Yes. I see that now. I see I've been much too
relaxed with your training as my slave. I didn't see that
you needed the structure and conditioning, so. So, we shall
redouble our efforts, you and I, and we shall make it right.
You cannot be jealous of my time you silly fool. You have no
rights in this regard. Have you forgotten you live to serve
me? Jealous indeed! Surely you must understand you have no
control in my domain."
After a long silence, not able to think of anything else to
say, too stupid to shut up, I offered. "I have no good
excuse, Mistress. You can trust I'll never let it happen
again."
After an equally long silence, she began, "I have failed you,
and for that I'm sorry. I won't beg your forgiveness.
Rest assured you need not fear expulsion from my dominion."
I breathed a sigh of relief. She claimed the entire world as
her dominion. Dispatch surely meant death. "At least, not
just yet. I still see a glimmer of hope for your submission.
As for it happening again, well this incident will be a
distant memory before you have opportunity to do it again.
From this day forward you will wear restraint. We will work
to purge you of these petty jealousies. As you have
assuredly already noticed we have an excellent start."
She went to the door and brought back the goody case. From
it she returned with a blindfold and, of course blindfolded
me. A few moments later the crack of the whip resounded
through the very small room. "As I apply each of these
twelve strokes you will count out and thank me for each,
little one. For heaven's sake do not loose count, for we
would positively have to start over, from the first. Don't
let me think for a moment that you are not thankful for the
attention I pay you now."
She kept me waiting, in anticipation, for the first. At last
I heard it coming and gratefully accepted the first stroke,
counting out "One, Mistress. Thank you Mistress." It caused
me to shudder with pain and delight as it had wrapped around
my leg and bit deeply into my thigh.
The next five came in quick succession, striking hard at both
shoulders, both nipples, and down my stomach, seemingly
tearing open my waist from navel to crotch. The last badly and it was all I could do to express through gritted
teeth "Six, Mistress. Thank you Mistress."
"Have you any questions you would have answer to, slave?" she
asked as she flicked the whip and caught the instep of my
forward foot. "Seven Mistress, Thank you, Mistress. I would
like to know, Mistress, how long have I been in this
dungeon?"
"To answer you," as she cracked the whip again, catching me
incredibly accurately, just at the nerve under my kneecap,
causing the leg to give out, leaving me hanging from the
elbows, "Eight, mistress. Thank you, mistress," I cried out.
"The time spent so far is irrelevant when compared to the
amount of time you will spend here. Perhaps in just this
pose. Anything else?" she inquired, flicking the whip yet
again. This time wrapping my waist and leaving the mark on
the left side above my already bruised kidney.
"Nine, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress. Next week, Mistress,
could I stand on my other foot."
"I'll give it some thought, whether it could be allowed."
She responded, flicking the whip. The next three landed at
various painful points as I counted out each and thanked her.
I stood again, teetering dangerously. She removed the
blindfold and offered me the brank, which I opened wide and
accepted, obligingly. She covered my head with the hood,
laced it tightly closed, turned the screw just a little
tighter than before and just before she left, said "The 'new
one' will be down shortly to tend these wounds. She will
bear your restraint. I want you to think about her freedom
to serve me as you cannot. Be clear about your failure as I
have been about mine. Trust, dear, that we will correct your
shortcomes. Until I come again."
I exalted that I had been allowed to plant the seeds to my
eventual release from this torment. I planned how I might
serve her better. I listened and was rewarded with the clank
of the door lock.
************************************************************
* *
* Implied *
* Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, *
* And by her yielded, by him best receiv'd, -- *
* Yielded with coy submission, modest pride, *
* And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay. *
* *
* Milton's Paradise Lost, book iv, Line 307. *
* *
* Something to say from the submissive's point of view? *
* Hard to find the "right" words? Want it in a story? *
* Tell me about it by mail at caitmccarren@yahoo.com. *
* *
************************************************************
|
|
