Pooch's Story
Part 6 The New Order
The only sound heard in the darkness was the occasional creak of the wooden beam
that bore the weight of a Pooch suspended between life and death. The events of
the past few hours had changed her life forever. Obedience that had come, deep
down, from the love of her master had been replaced with obedience that came
from the fear of the consequences of disobedience. The part of her heart that
had been filled with love and contentment was now vacant. Where there had been
trust that her master would never go to far because he loved her now she was in
the hands of people that were not even sure that she should be kept alive. This
part of her heart was now also taken over with fear. The last vestiges of human
dignity had been cruelly stripped from her. The men and women now deciding her
fate had found pleasure in watching her beg for her life through the
performance of the most degrading acts imaginable.
She had been told, in no uncertain terms that in the hierarchy of life her
status was somewhere below that of an animal. The friendships she had made with
the people at work were over. She would never see them again.
Instead she would see only people that enjoyed hurting her with no love as
compensation. In every picture, that her imagination conjured up of the future,
she was crying and there was no one to wipe away the tears. Ed would have never
left Pooch alone hanging by her wrists for such a long time. The feeling in her
hands was just about gone replaced by ever increasing pain in the shoulders.
All the salt in the urine she had consumed dehydrated her body creating a
tremendous thirst. Her bladder was now filled to overflowing and she was just
too weak to hold back the stream that found its way down her legs. Pooch winced
as some of the pee wet her raw pussy stinging the torn up flesh. She knew Marla
would be pleased.
Upstairs the conversation centered around experiences with other slaves,
methods of disciple, levels to which slaves had been pushed and other fun
things. The decision that Pooch had great potential as a slave in a fully non
consentual bondage situation had been made even before all her tasks had been
completed. Everyone thought that she had shown tremendous self control when
confronting physical pain. She had shown creativity in her own debasement when
servicing the four men. When driven to the psychological breaking point by
Greta she was quickly able to reconstruct an altered personality that allowed
her to continue and even be stronger. The control she showed over her own body,
after being tortured and debased to the point of exhaustion, when forced into
being a human toilet, impressed everybody. If Marla was looking for a slave
that could be pushed to the limits of human tolerance she had found one. Pooch
could be taken past her breaking point and then, like the Phoenix, rise from
her own ashes. Marla thought to herself that what a fool Ed had been to posses
this creature for ten years and barely scratch the surface of her subservience.
Marla was determined to squeeze the last ounce of blood out of her. It would be
so much fun.
Marla was in no hurry to let Pooch of the hook. She knew that her tortured toy
must be in both physical, and more importantly, mental anguish. Marla imagined
that the lingering passage of time in the solitary blackness of the playroom
would be playing on her mind making her feel that the jurors were having a
difficult time determining her fate and that the possibility of a very painful
and slow death was very real. It was nearly five in the morning when Pooch was
led back into the makeshift courtroom, clasped in irons, and instructed to
kneel before Marla. All was quiet. Pooch's heart could be seen to be pounding
in her chest from twenty feet away. She remembered every mistake she had made,
her blackout. Had she shown enough enthusiasm? "O God", she thought,
"there were all sorts of reasons for which they could fail her".
Marla broke the silence.
"I know the jury's decision and have listened to their recommendations.
They really have a lot of experience in these maters. I can assure you that
this is not a decision that was made easily". Marla knew that this
phrasing would make Pooch feel doomed. "After long deliberation the
decision of the jury is that despite the disobedience, lying and totally
unsatisfactory performance in the past you show sufficient promise to allow you
to continue living as a slave". O God thank you, Pooch thought to
herself. She was momentarily elated.
Marla continued.
"Before you start celebrating I suggest you pay close attention to the rest
of what I have to say. Your behavior when serving Ed was disgraceful. You
virtually mocked his authority over you and you will be punished severely for
that. You have shown that you cannot be trusted when not watched so I will be
instituting measures that will keep you under surveillance at all times.
You will also be under some form of restraint at all times and you will not be
allowed off this property except for reasons of extreme necessity at which time
you will be securely bound. One of those times will be when you visit Steve's
surgical clinic for extensive physical modifications. When no one is here to
watch you, you will be confined to the pit. That's the punishment you earned
for your past misbehavior. As you know I work as a lawyer. My job revolves
around laws and rules. I have an affinity for them. During the next couple of
days I will produce a preliminary set of rules which you will learn by heart.
With time new rules will be added. You will live by those rules. Any violation
will be punished. You will be asked to confess any violations which have not
beam caught by someone else on a daily basis. Remember that you will be under
constant surveillance. If you lie during confession the punishment will be
tripled. I will not tolerate a lying slave. You are not a part of this family.
You do not eat with us, you do not sleep with us, you do not share our
affection. You are simply my property. To help you remember that you are a
thing and not a person you will refer to yourself in the third person from now
on. Do you understand what I mean"? "Pooch understands mistress",
she answered in the correct manner.
"Remember you are here to serve. Don't expect any reward for perfect
service because that is the minimum that I expect from you. However you should
expect severe sanctions for imperfect service. I have a great imagination and
my imagination is not going to be your friend. Since you will not be leaving
this property any more you have no need for clothing. Gather up every stitch of
cloths that you have and put them in the cardboard box that you'll find in the
kitchen. They will be given to the needy. You will go naked at all times,
except for maybe some specialty items I might get for you in the future.
Now go".
Pooch hurried as best she could considering her ankles, wrists, and waist were
connected by chains. She wondered if this was what Marla meant when she had
said that Pooch would always be in restraints. Being chained made everything
slower and more difficult. The chains were heavy and tiring. They made reaching
above the waist very difficult. She would have to rush around looking for things
to stand on so that she could reach a hanger in the closet or a candle in the
middle of a kitchen table. Pooch also had to keep the chains from touching
anything and making scratches and noise. Since her ankles were hobbled Pooch
could only make quarter steps so it would take four times longer to get
anywhere. In order to accomplish anything in a reasonable time she had to run
so in no time at all her shins would be bleeding from the constant abrasion
against the Coarse edges of the rusted manacles. The constant rubbing of the
rough iron on an open wound leads to tremendous pain that only gets worse as
the wound is cut deeper. This is the type of maddening pain that she would have
to endure. The worst part about this pain was that to the outsider it looks
like something very minor and she is not allowed to either do something to stop
the cutting or let it effect her performance. Her legs have to be kept spread
when walking and standing so that the chain doesn't drag on the floor. She is
expected to move just as fast as she could before being cut. When you are in
manacles you walk as little as possible. Manacles are considered light restraint
here. Pooch knew where everything was so she didn't have to search for
anything. When she returned with a half full box and Marla had asked if that
was all?, Pooch answered that it was everything. She really hadn't had much
clothing anyway. Marla asked her if she was sure? Now Pooch knew that she had
been trapped. "Marla knows about something I missed and now she is going
to get me for lying and failing to complete my assignment", thought Pooch,
"and I have been serving her for less than fifteen minutes. My ass is
really cooked", she thought. "Why aren't you kneeling?", Marla
asked.
Pooch thought about how she should answer. Should she state the truth and say
that it was because she didn't know she was supposed to kneel now and sound
argumentative. Or should she just apologize for forgetting and take what would
probably be a minor punishment? Before she could make up her mind what to say
Marla half shouted "too late"! "What the hell are you doing?.
Making up some lies?, Maybe I should come back in an hour? Marla hissed.
"When I ask a question I expect to get an answer as soon as my lips stop
moving. DO YOU UNDERSTAND!!!!!!!!!", Marla screamed loud enough for
everyone within a block to hear. "Go downstairs and bring up the Singapore
cane. You know, the two handed one sitting in the brine bucket. I noticed your
rear end has been barely touched so I'm going to do something about it".
Pooch was terrified. It wasn't so much the prospect of being caned, rather it
was Marla's severity and ability to find fault with her every action. She had
to believe that the discipline Marla would administer would be as harsh as her
attitude and between her ability to find fault and her eagerness to punish,
Pooch would be living in a perpetual hell. As Pooch hurried to fetch the cane
the magnitude of Marla's other pronouncements began to sink in. Ed had put her
in the pit only once. It was a couple of days that she would never forget.. Ed
thought the pit would be a good place to leave Pooch while he entertained a
girlfriend upstairs. it was totally sound proof so Pooch could not signal her
existence to anybody. She would be out of his way the whole weekend. Feeling a
bit cruel Ed made Pooch jump down into the pit Friday morning before leaving
for work instead of after returning, even though he would have been home hours
before his girlfriend got there.
Pooch heard Ed push the lid bolts into the holes in the concrete walls.
That was the last sound from the outside world that Pooch would hear for the
next 68 hours. Because the pit was so narrow she scraped her knees, elbows,
shoulders, nose and forehead against the cement walls.
There wasn't enough room to sit down. The best Pooch could do was lean back
against one wall with her ass against it and then slide down until her knees
wedged against the opposite wall. This got very uncomfortable after only a few
hours. The air became grimy from being breathed in and out repeatedly. The bad
air, quiet, and physical exhaustion made Pooch want to just lie down and sleep
but she couldn't. Her body soon began to ache. First it was her back, because
the position she was in kept it arched almost all the time. Then her knees and
hips started to hurt from the pressure of being wedged against opposite walls.
Time passes so slowly in such a place. You can't sleep. You have no clues to
help you gauge time. After only thirty hours Pooch thought she had been in the
pit for a week and Ed had abandoned her to die there. She was literally in her
grave. A total panic began to engulf her. It was a panic that haunted her for
the remaining thirty-eight hours that she would be in the pit. As the pit
stayed closed her mind told her that the longer the door stayed shut the less
chance there was that it would ever open. She started to do crazy things like
start spinning around hoping that she could make herself so dizzy that she
would pass out, surely when she recovered this would all be behind her. It
didn't work. It only made her hotter, wasted the air and made her more tired.
Then she thought that she could use up all the air be continually jumping up
and down. She would use up the air faster than any fresh air got through the
cracks and pass out or die. Right then she would have welcomed either one. She
was sufficiently used to far worse pain to ignore the hunger but there was no
way to ignore the thirst. Pooch was so dry it hurt to breath. Her eyelids stuck
to her eyeballs. She hadn't succeeded in using up all the air but she had lost
a lot of water. When Ed opened the pit on Monday Pooch was rolling her head
around on her shoulders. Her eyes seemed to be taped open. She didn't have the
strength to raise her arms so that Ed could lift her out. Ed never put her
back in. What body modifications did Marla have in mind? Would she tell her
before they were done? Pooch was afraid of being irreversibly mutilated.
Back in the living room Marla mentioned to Greta how she had noticed that Pooch
had fallen for her.
"You understand that I intend to totally smash Pooch's ego and I don't
think it's helpful that she have any warm and fuzzy feelings towards anybody. I
want her empty of any comforting thoughts".
"I think that I can change her attitude pretty quickly", responded
Greta. "Would you let me apply the cane? I'm sure I can make her never
want to see me again".
"Sure you can. I always like to learn from the best and from what I've been
told you are the best".
"You're making me blush", answered Greta. "If you notice the way
I operate the most important thing is to always keep the slave off balance. If
she doesn't know what to expect then she can't prepare herself and her own
imagination becomes her worst enemy. Her own imagination will turn the edge of a
ribbon running across her back into the blade of a knife cutting her apart.
Just think of what her imagination can do if you really are cutting her
apart". Everybody laughed.
Pooch returned with the cane and promptly kneeled before Marla. She had heard
the laughter. It made her feel even more uncomfortable.
"Bring the cane to your girlfriend Pooch", Marla said in a soft voice.
"We all saw how your mouth made love to her turds. You could hardly wait
for the next mouthful". Again everybody laughed as Pooch turned crimson.
"Look everyone she's blushing. Isn't that just so cute".
Pooch was deeply humiliated by the comments made while bringing the cane over to
Greta. "Love hurts" "You always hurt the one you love".
She knelt before Greta's perfect legs, holding out the cane for her to take,
careful to keep her eyes cast down to Greta's feet. Ed removed the chains.
"Nice cane", Greta commented To Marla. "It's got a nice heft and
yet it's still springy. Where did you get it"? "At Maxis Leather shop
over on Charles Street. They only carry the best", answered Marla.
"Has this been used on her before?", asked Greta.
"Not yet. Ed and I thought we would hold on for a special occasion".
"This is her first disciple session since you became her owner, it is a
special occasion. You know Marla maybe you should do this I don't feel
right".
"Don't worry about it. I'll haveplenty of opportunities with her",
answered Marla. I'm just going to sit back and watch a professional".
"Thanks, I'll try not to disappoint you".
"O, I'm sure you won't". Marla went on, "Pooch would have
received five strokes for her delay in answering me but since she spent that
time thinking about a lie to tell me she will get fifteen. I am determined to
cure her of this problem that she seem to have. The sooner she is cured the
better off she will be. You will do what Greta tells you to and when she's
finished I expect you to thank her for disciplining you".
Pooch was just mortified about how they talked about her and her punishment as
if she wasn't there.
"Take my shoes of dear", Greta said, "and I really enjoy getting
my feet kissed when they come off. Remember that if you serve me in the future.
You know that you just can't get a good swing when you're balancing on high
heels".
Gently each shoe was removed and set aside. As the shoes came off each nylon
clad foot received a sincere, slow kiss. Pooch was still mesmerized by this
woman, She just didn't understand why.
Greta stood up from her seat beside Shandra. She adjusted her tight skirt.
"Would you kneel here on the cushion that I was just sitting on, your knees
and thighs against the seat back and your waist over the top of the seat back.
Good. Now spread your knees a little bit, about a foot, but keep your feet
together. I don't think it's right for a slave to have her knees together even
if her pussy isn't a target. That's good, now bend right over the back rest
and try to touch the floor with your fingers.
SWICCHHH, the cane sung in the hands of the professional and crashed without any
warning with a sickening TWAK!, not across the slaves posterior but across the
arches of both her feet, that had lain perfectly positioned on the front edge
of the seat cushion. It had been a two handed stroke delivered with perfect
accuracy. The quickness had made everyone in the room flinch in surprise.
Pooch let out a horrific scream. Her arms began to reach back instinctively, to
grab her smashed feet, when the cane screamed again painting a stripe across
both Pooch's shoulders setting them ablaze in white heat. The blow knocked her
back down into position, stunning the slave and causing her mind to loose every
thought, except for the pain. Even her voice was silenced. The stroke of the
cane across her shoulders, had inflicted deep muscle bruising in both
shoulders. The skin immediately went purple from bleeding in the large muscles.
When she tried to pull back her shoulders the whole area between the shoulder
blades erupted into a blaze of pain that was well above what she could stand.
Her mind went into overload. Her feet felt as though they had doubled in size.
They throbbed with every beat of her heart and she just couldn't let anything
touch them again. "I didn't say you could move", Greta lectured in a
cold steady voice.
"How do you think this works? I hit you and you go cover up? I think you
know better then that. You're really lucky that I was able to stop you before
you were able to touch your feet or I am sure your owner would have called for a
lot of extra strokes".
"You know that Greta is right", added Marla. "If you would have
touched your feet I would have ordered twenty more. It's very important that
you learn self discipline. We won't count that stroke across the shoulders
since it was a preventative measure. I think you should thank Greta for her
quick action".
"Thank you very much for stopping Pooch from doing a bad thing mistress
Greta", Pooch whimpered in a trembling voice.
"It's the least that I could do for someone who loves my shit so
much", Greta answered back. You do love to eat my shit don't you"?
"Yes mistress Greta". Pooch's feelings of humiliation kept escalating
to new levels.
"Do you love to drink my pee too"? "Yes mistress Greta".
"Do you love to eat everybody's shit and piss or just mine." The
nightmare for Pooch kept getting more and more terrifying. She was trapped again
not knowing how to answer this question. She had learned to answer right away.
Pooch chose the truth this time.
"Pooch just loves your shit and piss mistress Greta". "That's
not good", said Greta. "A slave should love the gifts that come from
any of her masters. I think your new owner will be looking into correcting
this attitude problem of yours. Come over and take off my skirt. If I would
have known that I would be so active tonight I would have worn looser fitting
clothing. This tight skirt of mine is still keeping me from getting a good
stroke and we don't want to short change you on your correction now do
we"? It had taken only two strokes of the Singapore cane to nearly cripple
Pooch. Her arms hung limp from her shoulders while the pain in her feet showed
no signs of subsiding. She straightened her back and proceeded to slide her
knees of the front of the sofa careful to stay off her feet.
Greta changed her tone from one that had shown some compassion to one of loud,
heartless, anger. "On your feet you pathetic shit lover!! If your looking
for sympathy you won't get any from me!! YOU MAKE ME SICK!!! If I thought that
you wouldn't love eating it so much I'd puke right now. Pooch tried to put some
weight on her feet only to fell them pierced by a hundred needles. She gasped
from the pain but knew she had better obey. With tortured steps she made her
way around to the back of the love seat were Greta was standing. Careful not to
move her shoulders she undid the snap and zipper of Greta's skirt and pulled it
down revealing Greta's hairy snatch. Greta steeped out of the skirt, Pooch
folded it and laid it down on the coffee table. "You really stink",
taunted Greta. Did you piss yourself when you were downstairs"? "Yes
mistress Greta". Pooch was now bawling like a baby. It was one thing to
handle the physical abuse but this constant humiliation was too much to bare.
"That's just another thing that I will have to deal with tomorrow",
said Marla.
"I think that in that case you better not go back on the couch. Somebody
spread some newspaper on the coffee table". Greta asked. "I want you
on all fours on the newspaper, knees apart and feet together hanging over the
edge of the table like you were when you were on the couch. Got that"?
"Yes mistress Greta".
"Can anybody else smell this old used up scum bag or is it just me?, asked
Greta.
A volley of disparaging comments followed the weary slave on her way to the
table. She walked to the table carefully and slowly. She knew that kneeling
doggy style would force back her shoulders to the position in which they were
in the most pain. Her feet had swollen a lot though not double. She did not look
forward to getting at least fourteen more strokes of the cane from this mad
woman.
To Pooch, Greta now seemed to be out of her mind. There was just no way to
figure out what she would be doing next, or what her demeanor would be. Pooch
began to think that her sentence of slavery for life was a fraud.
She began to think that they had really decided to kill her and weren't telling
her in order to make it easier to keep her under control. In a way she was now
cooperating in her own death. She was doing it because not cooperating would
make things even worse. Pooch believed more and more that she only had a short
time to live. The fear of death that griped her mind held her more tightly than
the thought of the fourteen remaining strokes. She was a weird one. She was
more afraid of dying than anything else. The fear was so strong that right now
at this moment of agony she would choose eternal, non stop, foot canning over
death. As the strokes were laid on Pooch would begin to reconsider.
Greta was going to apply the cane over Pooch's rear end starting at the line
between the tips of the pelvic bone down to the backs of her knees. She would
work her way down trying to get all the lines parallel to each other. Crossing
lines led to a lot of bleeding with no additional pain. With the force that
Greta would get out of each stroke there would be bleeding even without cross
strokes. She had to remember to cut the force on the stroke to the back of the
knees or Pooch wouldn't be able to stand for a month, if ever. She swung the
cane like a home run hitter in baseball going for the wall. It was a long swing,
the batter stepping into the ball or in this case, the slaves ass. It was the
only area Greta could really abuse without permanently damaging, and even on
Pooch's ass the damage would be substantial.
When Pooch heard the whistle of the cane she had no idea where it would land.
She tensed her whole body, She heard the slap of the rattan cane as it
connected in a line across the tops of her hips. It sent the maximum pain
message possible racing up her spine. It didn't matter where the cane came down,
the effect would be nearly the same. For any one of the lashes Pooch received
that early morning a normal person would have run wailing to the nearest
hospital emergency room. Pooch had to take thirteen more and not move at all,
and after they were finished they would probably humiliate her some more. Was
it possible to humiliate her more, she thought? They would then deposit her in
the pit where she would go insane and die, because, she fantasized, they had
no intention of letting her out again. Pooch's fear of the pit was almost as
great as her fear of death since in her mind the one relentlessly led to the
other. Like the cruelest of jokes this terror kept a large part of her mind from
being occupied with the pain of the canning and helped her get through it.
There was also the very, very small part of her mind, a part that she was not
even conscious of, that watched Greta perform with all the grace and skill of a
magnificent athlete. The image of the tall Amazon straining to get the most out
of every muscle and maximize every brutal stroke, naked from the waist down
except for her black hose, was wildly erotic. This first stroke across the
uppermost boundary of what would be considered her ass bit into flesh that was
not heavily padded. The force, instead of being absorbed by fat and muscle, was
absorbed by tendon and bone. The first sensation was not unlike an electrical
shock followed by a duller pain that started high and kept on building. When
she reflexively clenched her buttocks the pain turned dagger like. There was no
scream, as might have been expected only a grunt that like the clenching was
reflexive. Pooch's voice was now almost gone anyway as was nearly all her
strength. The best she could do was to start to tremble. Her sobbing was
continuous.
Greta was in no rush to take the next swing. Experience told her that a cane
such as the one she was using created a pain curve that kept increasing for
more than a minute. She would make sure that every one would be felt to the
maximum. Instead she would use the time to talk to her victim. "So that's
the second time tonight that you pissed yourself and you shit yourself too. At
your age I would think that you would be toilet trained. Do you think that you
were adequately toilet trained as a child? "Yes mistress".
"Well if it's not your toilet training, then what could it be? Have you
been getting too much to drink"? "No mistress", answered a
parched Pooch.
"You now I have a pet dog and she would sometimes go in the house as a sign
of defiance. Are you being defiant Pooch"? Before Pooch could respond the
next lash struck home eliciting the reflexive gasp and clench. This time there
was more meat though it still was not very deep. The muscle was severely crushed
between the cane on top and bone beneath. The skin broke in many spots along
the cane line, going purple in just seconds. droplets of dark blood oozed out
of the tiny breaks. After just two strokes on her ass the large muscles of
her buttocks were rendered useless. Any tightening brought on those daggers of
pain. Twelve to go.
"Well answer me cunt. Are you being defiant"? "No mistress",
Pooch whimpered barely audibly.
"It must be old age then. You've become incontinent. I guess your mistress
is going to have to keep you in diapers. Do you think that could be the
solution dear? Do you need to wear diapers? "No mistress". Pooch had
to struggle to get out the words, Her breathing was labored.
"I'm at a loss then. You say you've been toilet trained. You haven't been
drinking too much. You haven't been defiant and you aren't incontinent. The
only thing I can think of then is that you have no self control". Greta
paused to let the pain build. "That has to be it. You have no self
control". And the cane whistled through the air again this time digging
into much more fleshy ass meat just above the level of her anus. This time the
extra cushioning kept the skin from breaking though the welt and color change
was still almost instantaneous. Greta stood back to admire her handiwork. Each
stripe stood at least a quarter inch high above the surrounding skin. The
coloring followed every nook and cranny of the cane, presenting almost a
photographic image of the instrument on her skin.
The lines were indeed parallel to each other and evenly spaced. Swelling of
Pooch's posterior had begun.
"Self control can be taught you know. All that you have to do is impress
upon the subject the consequences of the lack of self control", Greta went
on. "I'm really quite a good teacher. Would you like me to teach
you"? Why was she being tormented like this, Pooch thought. Why didn't
Greta just finish the whipping and leave her to her suffering? Her rear end
was ablaze and she knew the fire would only spread. She also knew that there
was no escape, she might get more than the number stated but there was no chance
she would get less. "No mistress", Pooch managed to whisper.
"You at least didn't lie. Maybe you are capable of learning", Greta
went on. "Too bad for you that you don't get a choice in the matter. You
don't seem very talkative".
Once again a shock raced up her spine as the cane left a fourth line right
across the two outcroppings of her pelvic bone that formed her seat and her
anus. Pooch actually saw a flash of light just before feeling the fresh jolt of
pain. She now depended exclusively on her arms to maintain her position. She no
longer controlled her legs. Her buttocks twitched in a random pattern as
injured nerves fired beyond her control. Pooch stopped breathing as she tried
to hold her self together.
"Now if you hadn't thought about fibbing to your mistress the punishment
would now be over. Instead you now have to pay the price for your
deceitfulness. You will learn that it is always better to be honest and take
your medicine than try to hide something from your mistress. You can't blame
anyone but yourself for the rest of this session".
The next two strokes also caught part of the slaves pussy lips which protruded
between the two globes that made up her ass. Breathing was now made up of
irregular gasps. "Move your knees together for the rest of your
punishment", Greta ordered.
Agonizingly Pooch used the muscles of her inner thighs to obey. Both globes were
now enveloped in a fire that felt even more intense than her breasts had felt
from the red hot needles.
Greta was now going to work on her thighs. Right after another surprise blow to
the soles of her feet. Again the cane landed on Pooch's insteps a bit closer
to her heels. It would be a week at the very least before she would be able to
put any weight on them and even then they would hurt like hell.
Seven lines striped the back of Pooch's thighs when Greta finally finished.
Pooch was aware that Greta had been talking to her almost continually but her
mind had stopped registering the words. She was aware that when her whipping
was over everybody was clapping and shouting things like "Bravo" and
"well done". Pooch reasoned that Greta was being congratulated for
coming so close to killing her without actually doing the deed. She didn't want
to see how she looked back there imagining that there was only torn flesh
loosely covering bare bone left. The whole area from the top of her hips to the
back of her knees was on fire and the fire showed no sign of cooling down.
Worst of all she was so profoundly alone. She didn't have a single friend in the
whole world. She needed a friend so badly, somebody that would hold her and
tell her everything would be all right, somebody that would take care of her,
comfort her and bind her wounds. There was no one. Everybody around her just
wanted to hurt her and humiliate her. The one that she had reached out to for
some compassion had now hurt her the worst. Greta placed the end of the cane in
front of Pooch's lips. She remembered what she had to do and kissed the end of
the cane.
"Thank you mistress Greta for punishing Pooch for being a bad slave and
thinking about lying to Pooch's mistress. Pooch is sorry for causing you so
much trouble. She won't do it again". She then hung her head and continued
sobbing, her body still trembling.
Greta then lifted her right leg placed it on the slaves ribs and pushed her over
onto her side. She then leaned over, lips approaching Pooch's face and spit.
She was followed by everyone else in the room except Ed.
"Throw her in the pit", ordered Marla.
