II
She returned some time later and placed a cover over my cage after
removing the now empty food dish, not speaking to me. I curled up in the
darkness and pondered the sudden change in my life. I was caged like a lab rat.
Or perhaps a canary. I had a sudden wild urge to sing "I'm only a bird in a
gilded cage," but fought it back. I had been ordered not to speak. How would she
know if I did? I couldn't be sure that she wouldn't know.
The question of why still dogged me. And the types of tests were still
confusing me. Why was I being tortured? How would I be found useful? Or not
useful? And trained to serve who? She had said, "trained to serve us." Her?
Someone else? Perhaps this was some kind of strange dream. Perhaps I had been
hit by a car while helping the girl change her tire, and was in a hospital? The
Wizard of Oz had nothing on this dream...if it was a dream.
Her voice came from above, startling me.
"You can't escape by clicking the heels of your ruby slippers together
three times."
I must have said it out loud. She had been listening. Now what? More
"correction"?
"You should sleep now. I will correct you in the morning after your
feeding and your walk"
I tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn't come easily. But come it did, like
fog on little cat feet, it crept over my mind leaving me in a black void.
I awoke to the feel of a stream of warm water playing over my body. My
bladder emptied in response and soaked the floor of the pen with my piss. The
warm water continued until the pen was clean.
I looked up to see the young woman dressed in a lab coat holding a hose.
"Your correction has been postponed. I will bring your morning ration.
", Was all she said.
She returned with the food pan filled with warm oatmeal.
"Eat." was the one word command.
I placed my face in the pan and lapped up the warm food as well as I
could.
When I looked up again she was watching me. No, studying me would be a
better term.
I started watching her in return. She smiled at me.
"You have spirit. And you have questions. Are you afraid of me? You may
speak."
I hesitated. Was I afraid of her? No, not of her, just her power over
me.
"I am not afraid of you, I am afraid of what you might do to me." I
said.
"A wise answer. You may ask one question."
One question. I thought furiously. If I could ask the right question, it
would provide the answer to others.
"What is the purpose of these tests you are performing on me?"
She laughed.
"The others wanted to know why they were here, or who I was. You ask me
what the purpose of the testing is. How delightful. The purpose of the testing
is to see if you are useful to us. That tells you no more than you knew before.
But it does show a certain creativity. The other questions would have told you
no more than you knew before as well.
"You should prove interesting"
With that, she turned and walked out, humming a Haydn concerto.
One question and I blew it. Or had I? Now I knew that there had been
other men or perhaps women that had been subjected to her "testing". Her manner
and treatment of me reminded me of ...what? I thought about it. A zookeeper? A
psychologist? Zira from the movie Planet of the Apes. Right. "Take your filthy
hands off of me you damned dirty ape," was the line.
What was the name of the tune she was humming?
I shivered. I had to escape this place. Wherever or whatever it was.
She returned, dressed in a gray uniform and short boots. In her hand was
a leash and collar. Dangling from her belt was a set of leg irons and a short
riding crop. She bent over and unlocked the door to the pen.
"Crawl out. Do not stand until told. Do not speak. Do you understand
these orders?"
I nodded. I had to play along and gain her confidence. As soon as she
dropped her guard, I would attack and escape.
I crawled out and waited. As she approached to place the collar on me, I
tried to spring on her. My attempt was blocked by her booted foot kicking me in
the side, rolling me onto my back.
Her voice was cold and smoking like dry ice.
"You respond to my kindness by attacking me. You are in error; you will
be corrected."
With that she placed her boot on my cock and balls and placed her weight
on them.
The pressure increased until I wanted to scream. I wasn't going to give
her that satisfaction.
Great intentions, bad performance. I started whimpering, as the pressure
became more intense. I lay gasping in pain. The pressure stopped. The leg irons
were clamped onto me and the leash was used to tie my hands to the collar she
placed around my neck.
"Stand up M - 5. There are tests to be run, and you have delayed us long
enough"
I lay on the floor helpless to resist physically.
"That is not my name. I am Michael ...." I started to say and was cut
off by the crop slashing across my thighs.
"You have no name. You are subject M - 5. Nothing more. And potentially
less if you continue to resist. Is that clear to you, M - 5?"
I said nothing. I didn't even nod. I waited.
"Excellent. You may speak."
"I understand."
The crop slashed across me again.
"I understand, WHAT?", she prompted.
"I understand - - Mistress "
Another slash.
"The proper form of address is ' I understand Controller' ", I was
instructed.
"I understand Controller. " I corrected.
"Good M - 5. M one through M four were not entirely successful. I expect
that you will be of more use than they were. Now, stand up. Do not speak. Nod if
you understand these orders."
I nodded quickly and got to my feet as directed.
The leg irons made walking difficult. I was ordered back into the room
with the table. This time my collar was attached to a chain hanging from a ring
in the ceiling. The leg irons were locked to another ring in the floor,
spreading my legs.
"This test is simple, M - 5. I am going to attach weights to your balls
and see how much weight you can tolerate. I will then repeat the process with
your nipples."
A leather strap with a hook was clamped around my balls. The Controller
removed a set of weights from a cabinet and showed them to me.
"Each weight is one ounce. I have 64 weights here. Perhaps you will be
more successful than M - 2. He could not hold more than 32 before he ... failed
the test. "
She attached the first weight to the hook. It pulled the strap tighter.
She attached the next, and then another. With each the pain increased. Four,
five, six weights. Then a seventh and eighth weight.
She paused.
"You are doing well M - 5. Are you in pain? You may speak."
"Yes Controller."
"Only 56 more to go M - 5. Can you do it?"
"I don't know Controller.", I moaned.
"We will both find out M - 5"
Another weight, then another. Ten, eleven, twelve.
I cried out in pain. I felt a coldness touch my balls. There was a thud.
Then the pain stopped.
A gentle hand touched my face and stroked my aching balls.
I opened my eyes to see the Controller holding a knife and smiling.
" M - 2 failed the test because he did not admit to his pain. You did.
If you do not confess your pain, you are of no use to us.
"I believe the nipple tests are unnecessary. Are you willing to be
whipped as a replacement test? You may speak."
"Yes Controller. Thank you", I whispered.
"For what M - 5?", was the amused question.
"For giving me a choice Controller."
"You have shown you are intelligent enough to make a choice. Prepare
yourself"
With that she turned and walked towards a rack of whips on the other
side of the room. She returned with three whips, one with wide straps, one with
knots in the ends, and one with thin tails.
"I will use these on you. You will tell me which one I have used by
saying the number one, two or three."
She held up the wide one
"Number one"
Then the thin one.
"Number two"
Lastly the knotted one.
"Number three"
As she walked behind me she continued to speak.
"If you make an error in identifying the whips, I shall start over from
the beginning. You will endure ten strokes from each. If you are correct with
your answers you will have taken thirty strokes.
"If not, the number could be much higher. We begin"
The first one felt like a bee sting across my ass.
"Two", I said.
The next one thudded across my back.
"One", I moaned.
The next across my shoulders.
"Three"
The strokes increased and changed focus. Faster and harder they came. I
chanted what I thought were the correct numbers. I soon lost count of the number
of strokes.
My world dissolved into the feel of the whips and my own labored
chanting.
After an unknown amount of time, she stopped and stood before me.
"You are progressing well. I will release your hands."
I collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut at her booted feet.
"Kiss my boots M - 5. Show your appreciation for the attention I have
given you.", she commanded.
I licked the slick leather of her boots and tried to organize my
whirling thoughts.
The pain was becoming a drug. A strange, wonderful, terrible drug. And
she became more pleased as I endured more abuse. And as the abuse increased my
desire to give her pleasure increased as well.
Why? I was being hurt. But she wanted me to suffer for her. She desired
my pain. This was madness. But she stroked and comforted me when the pain became
too much to bear. She fed and watered me. She cleaned me.
She punished me and cared for me. I felt something in myself stir. I had
always cared for others, and seldom thought of my needs and desires.
She cared about me in her own way.
I drifted into sleep with my face pressed into her boots.
