A Slave's Story By Snyder
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Chapter 2
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Later that day, I hear the phone ring. Of course, I have no way to
reach it - if ONLY he were that careless ("Hello, 911? I'd like to
report a kidnapping.") I can also hear the answering machine pick up
the call. Sometimes it's a real message, and these have given me brief
glimpses into his real life, but usually, it's "for me." He uses the
machine to issue me commands during the day, most often regarding the
clothing he wants me to have ready when he returns. That's what the
call is this time...
"Hello, Slave" he coos into the phone. "You're to have the tan
business suit ready when I get home today. Oh, and you're also to be
wearing the harness gag. In fact, you're to put the gag on right after
this call."
Click. Not even a "good-bye."
Of course, I can't dress myself with my wrists and ankles cuffed. But
he actually leaves keys the within reach so I can remove the cuffs and
change clothes, IF I'm so instructed. He knows that leaving the keys
poses no risk of escape. After all, I can't get out of the cell. But,
you may be wondering why I don't just remove the cuffs whenever I want
when he's out, and the answer is a not- so- hidden video camera, which
turns on randomly throughout the day recording my every move. If the
tape shows me disobeying his orders, there's hell to pay, as I well
know by now.
My first taste of that "hell" came after only one night as his slave.
That first night I was so frightened I couldn't sleep. But as I lay
awake, I began to think back on many of the details of my abduction. I
remembered how he took great care whenever he fastened a cuff or rope
or strap on me. He'd made sure that it was only tight enough to hold
securely, not to cause pain or discomfort. He had plenty of
opportunity to be cruel, but he hadn't been. With this in mind, I
began to wonder if the man wasn't really some kind of wimp, who didn't
have the guts to really get tough. And I also thought about why he
said he'd abducted me in the first place. It seemed obvious that he
wanted me in good shape and unhurt. And so I resolved that I'd call
his bluff at my next opportunity.
When I heard him coming down the steps in the morning, I stood up and
tried to look as confident and dignified as possible wearing only
cuffs, collar, and panties.
"I see my slave is standing at attention," he said. "I suggest you
kneel down before your Master right away."
"No way!" I retorted. "I am NOT your slave, and never will be. You
have no right to keep me here. You'll get caught. I'll escape." Etc.
etc.
He let me go on for several minutes before he calmly opened the cell,
stepped in and zapped me with a stun gun he had ready. It all happened
so fast I didn't have a chance to fight back or struggle. The pain was
awful, and I collapsed in a heap on the floor. In my dazed condition,
I felt him start to gather me up and speak in that soft voice of
his...
"I can see my naughty slave didn't fully learn her lessons from last
night..." And then I blacked out.
When I came to, I felt my arms stretched high over my head. My wrists
had been tied (painfully tight this time) and attached to a hook in
the ceiling. My ankles had also been tightly bound, and my toes just
barely touched to floor. I was also aware that I was completely naked
now. I tried to move my head and to speak, but found that my mouth was
again filled with a bitter tasting rubber ball. The ball was attached
to a harness- type system of straps that seemed to go all over and
around my head. The straps firmly held the ball in place and tightly
forced my jaws closed around it. Also, a rope was attached to the
strap at the top of my head, and was pulled behind my back and tied to
another rope circling my waist, forcing my head back so I stared up at
the ceiling.
"Well, well, well... I see you've rejoined the conscious. I was really
hoping that I wouldn't have to do this so soon after acquiring you,
but I can tell you're going to be a more difficult study than I
thought at first."
"Mmpphh mmmppphhy."
"Yes, I know you're sorry NOW, but now it's too late - you have to
take your medicine like a good little slave."
"Mmmmppphh!!"
"I'll let these little outbursts go for now because I think you may
need a little reminder that you don't speak unless spoken to. Isn't
that correct?"
"Mmpphss."
"Yes, WHAT?"
"Mmpphss mmpphssrr."
"I'll take that as a 'yes, master.' Very good. Now then, on to your
punishment."
When he said that, I started to struggle frantically, because I
thought this *was* my punishment. But I soon learned otherwise as what
I had thought was the floor beneath my toes, turned out to be a short
stool, which he suddenly kicked from under me, leaving me dangling by
my wrists.
The pain was more than I thought I could bear, and more involuntary
grunts and mmpphhs escaped my lips. But even this was not enough. He
then stood on the stool so he could show my upward pointed eyes a
slender "switch" he'd made from a bush in his back yard.
"I'm just an old- fashioned kind of guy, so I really like these old-
fashioned 'switches.' They can sting like the devil, you know. Now,
concerning your little tirade this morning, I believe I counted seven
times when you used forbidden words to refer to my property. I think
two strokes per word would be about right. That makes 14 strokes,
correct Slave?"
"Mmpphss mmpphssrr."
"And after each stroke I expect to hear you thank me for teaching you
this necessary lesson."
And with that I endured 14 strokes of the switch, somehow mmpphhing a
"thank you, Master" after each one. He took his time, pausing for
various periods between strokes, sometimes for what seemed like five
or six minutes. During these pauses, he would continue to instruct me
on the importance of following his rules, or "these little sessions"
would become quite common, which he assured me he didn't want any more
than I did.
"Believe me," he said, "this hurts me more than it hurts you."
After the last stroke, he replaced the stool so I could get some
relief from the strain on my wrists and arms, and "stepped out for a
bite to eat."
When he finally returned with "leftovers for later", I learned that
naughty slaves do not get to eat for the day. Neither do they get the
relief of loose bindings at night or even the small comfort of the cot
which he removed from my cell. Thus I spent my second night as a slave
hurting, tightly bound, and cold on the hard concrete floor.
