I

“This gathering shall now come to order,” the pastor roared into the microphone as stragglers hurried to fill the remaining seats in the gym. The pastor, a stern, bespectacled, gray-haired 45 year old sat behind a table, flanked by four church elders, two on each side.

“Let the Lord’s witnesses and record-keeper note the date and time. It is Saturday, September 7th and the time is 1400 hours,” he continued, as the gathering fell silent.

He cleared his throat, drank some water, and continued, “we are here to discuss the case of Casey Ann Rogers, 26, mother of 3, church daycare worker and part-time Sunday School teacher. Mrs. Rogers has been a member of this community since birth and is married to Mr. Thomas Rogers III.

“Mrs. Rogers is charged with violating the laws of nature and most importantly, the laws of God, along with the covenant of marriage. Witnesses have come forth with evidence of the following: sodomy, fornication, lesbianism, sado-masochism, masturbation, paganism and other unmentionable sins.”

Gasps broke out with the mention of each “sin”. Casey, for her part, sat quietly in the front row, alone in the middle of the aisle. Her husband and family sat in the back in stone cold silence. Her children were not in attendance.

Casey was dressed in a black pant suit and white blouse. Her long brown hair was neatly tied and a hairband kept stay locks from falling on her face. She sat with her hands folded on her lap.

The pastor, who she despised, continued, “Mrs. Rogers joined a group called “I love sodomy”, under the guise of a woman’s Bible study group. This group met twice a week on the edge of the county, where influences from other counties could not be avoided. At these meetings, members, and I would be remiss if I failed to mention that Mrs. Rogers isn’t the only member of our God-fearing community that was a member of this heinous organization, met to participate in unnatural activities.

“Ours is a loving community. We welcome everyone. We live by God’s rules. We work hard, pay our bills and yes, our taxes, and we follow out local ordnances, that you have voted to enact. Our streets are safe, our schools are top-notch, our residents are moral and loving and caring. Our youth is sheltered from the sins and ills of the world. They dress fashionably but are still wholesome. Sexual relations are limited to procreation by married couples only. There is no drinking, dancing or adultery here, and definitely none of the activities that Mrs. Rogers and her ilk have indulged.

“It has shocked the community that an upstanding member, with a seemingly happy and healthy life, would risk it all for some ungodly pleasure. That is why this commission has been formed, to bring Mrs. Rogers to account and hand down an appropriate punishment, one that will come from God above.

“At this point, I would ask the accused to rise and come to the microphone so that she can face the gathering and this commission.”

Casey got up and slowly walked to the microphone. Her side was to the audience. She was facing the commission from the edge of the table.

The pastor continued, “Mrs. Rogers, how do you plead to these charges?”

“I do not recognize the jurisdiction of this commission,” Casey said confidently, though her hands were trembling.

A loud roar emanated from the audience. Shouts of “whore”, “sodomite”, “may you burn in hell” were heard. The pastor slammed his hand down on his table and thundered into his microphone, “Silence! Or I will clear this room!” He was shaking. The church elder on his left patted him on his shoulder, asking him to relax. He sat down and addressed Casey.

“May I remind you that you answer to no one but God and this is God’s jurisdiction, God’s commission!”

“I have rights under the Constitution of this great nation. According to the laws of the country and the state, what I have done may be inexcusable from a personal, family standpoint, but is legal and you have no right to charge me. This matter can be resolved within my family.”

“The sheer gall of this woman,” the pastor sneered, “to think that some Constitution that’s been rewritten by sodomite secular activist judges applies to this Godly community. So if you went to civil court to defend yourself against a divorce petition, do you think the judge there will grant you custody of your children? Do you think he will let them visit you unsupervised? You are corrupt, you are a pervert, you have a filthy mind and a filthy body.”

“You cannot deny me the right to be a mother!”

“Oh yes we can. You are too young to remember Mrs. Clayborn. Her sins weren’t half as bad as yours but she was excommunicated by this church and her husband kicked her out of the house. She fled to California and became a prostitute. You might as well do the same. I know they’ll like your kind out there.

“Your marriage and your children’s births are not recorded anywhere outside this county. In fact, the State has no records. We can excommunicate you right now and you’ll have no rights whatsoever.”

Casey was silent. She fought back tears. She composed herself and spoke, her voice choking, “I love my children. I am in a loveless, dull marriage, like many women in this community. You and your ilk do everything to make our lives miserable. I sought escape but in no way did I put my children at risk. All I ask this sham commission is the right to remain a mother even if my rights as a wife are taken away.”

“So do you plead guilty?” the pastor asked, “for if you do, we can resolve this quickly.”

“I am guilty of nothing,” Casey was defiant.

“Let the Lord note that the accused has failed to plead guilty,” the pastor thundered. Murmurs of displeasure rippled through the gathering.

“Are there any character witnesses?” the pastor asked the gathering. No one came forward. “Very well, the accused had spoken for herself. My colleagues on this commission will now pass their verdicts to me. Please face the audience, Mrs. Rogers.”

Casey turned and looked at the audience. Nobody looked at her. The church elders scribbled on their forms and passed them to the pastor who read through them, writing on his own form. Then he spoke.

“This commission, and the audience appreciates the speed at which this case is being resolved. Had Mrs. Rogers pleaded guilty as charged, her parenting rights would have been restored after seven days of penance and counseling. Marital counseling would have followed. Since she chose not to plead guilty in defiance of God’s will, she will serve two hundred days of penance following which her case will be reviewed. If during this time, her husband chooses to sever the marital bond, his wish will be granted. However, her rights as a mother cannot be reviewed until after she has served her penance.

“This is the verdict of the Lord’s commission, on this day. Do you accept this verdict?”

Casey stepped back to the microphone, “Yes I do.”

“Very well. The accused will now be led to the Floor of Shame, where she will begin her penance. She will obey the rules or risk losing everything. Adjourned.”

Casey walked back to her chair and picked up her back. Two women approached her. One was her next door neighbor, a pleasant woman in her 50s. But now she was scowling. The other was a lady who worked in the supermarket. She was also very active in the church. “Please come with us,” she said to Casey.

As the gathering dispersed, the pastor shared a joke with two of the church elders. Casey followed the two ladies out of the side door and down a flight of stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, her neighbor punched in a code and a door buzzed open. She turned on a light and they proceeded to a room. She turned the light on in that room and took a seat behind a table. The supermarket lady sat next to her. Casey stood on the other side.

“Please kneel. Place your bag on the table,” the neighbor, whose name was Rose, said. Casey complied. She knelt on the hard floor.

“You are here by choice.  You know what will happen if you fail to serve your time. Here are rules are clear. In fact, there is only one rule, do as you are told,” the supermarket lady said.

“You are not the first to enter the Floor of Shame, and you won’t be the last. Though each time we wish that the latest sinner is the last one to sin in this community.

“There is no guidebook. The rules of penance have been passed down for generation, and were written by God. Every time you feel the need to lash out or question, think about why you are here and what awaits you after two hundred days.

“Penance will help cleanse your body, your mind, your soul. All impure thoughts and feelings will be banished from your mind. You will emerge clean and God-fearing, all will be forgiven but not forgotten. Here you forfeit any rights you think you had up above. You will have no self-respect, no privacy, no dignity, like you have any to begin with. Any questions before we start?”

Casey was silent for a moment. Then she asked, “is the pastor going to fuck me daily?”

The women said nothing. Casey asked again, “is he going to fuck me up the ass? Does he practice what he preaches? I doubt it!” Her voice rose and quivered.

Her neighbor leaned forward and said, “young lady, with that attitude, you will make life worse than hell over here. So zip it and if the pastor pays you a visit, it will be to help rehabilitate you. So shut up and do as we say!”

“Fine,” Casey snickered, “I bet you’re aching for it too.”

“May I warn you that this sort of recalcitrance may cause us to reconsider your punishment and have you banished from the community,” the supermarket lady said, “you remember what’s at stake?”

Casey was silent. Then she said, “fine, fuck me.”

“Very well,” the neighbor lady said, “Casey, we will lead you to your room where we will process you and inform you of your daily routine. Please follow us. Leave your bag here. You will get it back when you are done.”

Casey got up, dusted off her knees and walked in between the women. They came to a door down the corridor. The neighbor lady wrote on the whiteboard, “Casey Rogers, 200 days, start 9/7.”

They walked into the room. It was six feet by six feet, with a twelve feet high ceiling with a fluorescent dome light. There were no windows, just two vents near the ceiling.

A wooden plank was fixed to the floor near the left wall. It was six feet long and 18 inches wide. A Bible lay on it. Next to the plank was a stool. There was a small towel with a bar of soap, a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste on it. On the floor under the stool was a thick cotton pad with a cloth belt. Next to the stool was a plastic pitcher of water and a loaf of bread on top.  Over by the right wall was a low toilet bowl, about six feet high with no seat. A tap jutted from the wall and opened over the back of the bowl. The bowl was spotless. Casey shook her head.

The neighbor lady spoke, “Casey, this is your penance room. You will not leave this space for two hundred days. If you run out of supplies you will receive more. You will be watched constantly. The light will burn all the time.

“Penance requires that you be uncomfortable and embarrassed and humiliated. I ask that you hand over all your clothes now.”

Casey removed her jacket and threw it to the floor. She removed her blouse, her bra, her shoes, her pants, her panties, in that order. She stood before the ladies, naked. She removed her earrings and her necklace, as well as her wedding ring. She had a very nice, tight body. She was 5’6”, 120 pounds with firm breasts and a nice hairy pussy. Her body was otherwise shaved.

The supermarket lady spoke, “you are to read the Bible during your waking hours. You are to wash daily. Your water pitcher will be refilled every morning. You will get a fresh loaf of bread every other day. You will also receive one banana, one raw carrot and a hard-boiled egg each day, starting tomorrow.”

With those words, the women stepped out of the door and locked the door.

“I love sodomy,” Casey yelled out.

II

“I love sodomy, I love sodomy, I love sodomy,” Casey repeated over and over again as she leaned over the sofa while the masked man moved inside her anus. His size was perfect for her tight backside. He went deep enough, stretched her just the right amount and left a lasting impression on her. She reached down and fingered her throbbing wet pussy, sending her fingers deep inside her hairy snatch, letting the sticky juices coat them while the man kept moving inside her.

She eyed someone who was watching her. She loved to suck his dick which was small and flaccid at the moment. Casey tried to focus on the present as her orgasm was building. She buried her face into the couch as the man let out a scream, filling the condom while Casey moaned into the cushion and then lifted her head and let everyone in the room know that she had cum explosively. Cheers of “Yeah Casey!”, “Yeah Jesus chick” went out.

Casey was quite the showgirl. The star of every meeting. It was a miracle that she could walk straight after each meeting.

“Alright, who’s next?” she said with a giggle. She got up, licking her sticky fingers, walking over to her next target and kneeling before him as he sat on a chair.

“I love sodomy,” she said with a smile and began licking his flaccid cock.

“He sure does,” the man said, adjusting his mask and adjusting his posture as his cock grew in Casey’s mouth.

III

“I will say this one more time. Repeat after me, I hate sodomy,” the pastor said, standing over Casey, wearing a thick black robe.

“I love sodomy,” muttered Casey, her voice breaking. The pastor turned a wheel and the screws tightened. Casey screamed, “please stop!”

“I will if you say what I’ve been asking you to say for the past two hours,” the pastor said.

Streams of sweat ran across Casey’s forehead, getting into her eyes. Tears streamed down her face. She was defiant.

She lay on the thin metal table, her arms stretched above her and chained to a pulley. Her ankles the same. Her body was stretched out, not to any breaking point but just enough to make her very uncomfortable. You could count her ribs. Her chest fell rapidly from her heavy breathing. There were clamps on her nipples that tightened when the pastor turned the last wheel.

The pastor relaxed the pulleys and suddenly tightened them again, stretching Casey, who screamed as loud as she could.

“You love sodomy! I love sodomy!” she cried out, “I fucking hate you. You hypocrite!”

“Move her to the hole,” he ordered the neighbor lady who was watching the proceedings, “three days!”

Casey was removed from the table. She fell to the floor, on her knees, rubbing her wrists and ankles, her nipples were hard and tender. The neighbor lady pulled her up and the supermarket lady came in to help. The two dragged her along the floor, her knees rubbing against the floor and threw her into a crawl space, no bigger than three feet wide and long and maybe four feet high. They slammed the metal door, leaving Casey in darkness and misery.

Finding a hole on one side of the floor, Casey relieved herself and then curled up on the floor and sobbed.

Some time later a slot opened under the door and a bowl was pushed in. There was a slice of break soaking in water. Casey wasn’t hungry but she knew she had to eat. She planned to be as defiant as possible and needed all the strength she could get. She gobbled the soggy bread and drank the water, licking every last drop. She knew the pastor would be involved. The pervert. She couldn’t believe they had a medieval torture room in the church basement. She had just been on the rack. What else were they hiding behind those curtains, she wondered. She wouldn’t mind finding out.

For now she was in a tiny dark space, naked and sweaty and dirty by her recent standards. At least her room had running water.

She managed to fall asleep only to be woken up by a hose of cold water. She struggled to catch her breath as the water hit her face and body and pussy. The water gushed out of the cell and drained in the corridor. They left her soaking wet.

IV

“I love sodomy,” she cried as she mounted the dildo and moved up and down as the others watched in glee. The dildo began to glisten in the dimly lit room as Casey let a trail of her juices on it. She held the armrests of the chair as she crouched over the dildo. She was in heaven. On cloud nine. With many witnesses to attest to that fact.

V

“I love sodomy,” she cried, gasping for air, coughing as water gushed out of her mouth and her nose. She blinked her eyes to get the water out. “I love,” she began as he flipped her chair and her head went back into the vat of water. She held her breath, unable to flail her bound arms and legs. After what seemed like ages during which she was convinced she would drown, Casey was brought back out. She coughed uncontrollably.

“I love sodomy and so do you,” she blurted out. The pastor left the room. Casey coughed up more water, her hair was dripping wet, her whole body was shaking, she was gasping for air. She wasn’t close to giving in. She would hold out for as long as possible, call their bluff every step of the way.

The two women, who were always there, who never seemed to have anything better to do with their lives, came around the curtain to unshackle Casey from the chair and escort her back to her room.

Twelve days down, one hundred and eighty-eight days to go. Casey grabbed her towel and dried her hair and face. She was hungry so she decided to eat the carrot and banana that had been sitting on the floor since morning. After that she squatted over the bowl, relieved herself, washed at the tap and returned to her plank to lie down. She closed her eyes.

VI

“What do you think you’re doing?” her husband screamed, sitting up in the bed and switching on the light.

“Quiet, you’ll wake the kids,” Casey said, “I thought we could…”

“We could what? Be sinful? Be sodomites?” her husband interrupted, climbing out of the bed and dropping to his knees to summon the heavens.

“Oh please, I bet you’d like to know what it’s like to get your cock sucked,” said Casey, getting out of bed herself. He was already in deep prayer. “Loser,” she muttered, going into the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

She looked at herself in the small shaving mirror. There were no full-length mirrors in this county. You must fear your naked body. You must never stare at it. What a crock, Casey though to herself as she lifted her ankle-length nightgown and sat on the toilet. You must sleep with your loins protected. Code for wear your undies to bed. Not a chance for Casey who loved breaking the rules. She hunched over and smiled. Her nightgown had long sleeves and was buttoned to the neck. It was made of thick cotton, kept her warm at night but it was the perfect nightgown for a prude, but a prude she was not.

The piss whirred out of her and hit the water below in a steady stream. When she finished she grabbed a few squares of toilet paper and dried herself, allowing herself a few extra swipes. It always felt good. She dropped the paper into the bowl and rubbed herself with her fingers. Meanwhile, in the bedroom, her husband was praying out loud. Moron, she muttered. She decided to cut short her pleasure and go to bed. She got up, flushed and washed her hands and returned to the bedroom.

“You should pray too,” her husband said, “getting off the floor.”

“I’m sleepy,” Casey smirked. I’m calling her tomorrow, she thought to herself. “I’m joining a Bible Study group tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll approve.” He didn’t say a word, instead he turned out the light.

VII

“I love sodomy,” muttered Casey, glaring at the pastor who drummed his fingers on the table.

“You have read about the Spanish Inquisition, right?” he asked her, “the sins, the punishments. Too bad we can’t return to those days. We’d have you and your fellow sodomites burned at the stake. Or maybe crucified. You’d die for your sins. That would be the only way to save you and this community.”

“Do what you have to. You know you are weak. A hypocrite. You’ll give in before I do. You’ll be begging for a blow job before I repent anything,” Casey said in complete defiance, her predicament notwithstanding.

“Pastor, you must,” the neighbor lady began before he raised his hand to stop her.

“Hush, you must not,” he said politely to her.

Casey was in pain. Her upper arms were going numb, her shoulders were very sore. Her arms had been tied at the wrists, pulled behind her and tied to a pulley that was attached to the ceiling. The pastor had turned the pulley enough to tighten her arms. She was hunched forwards, her legs spread three feet wide and held in place by a solid steel spreader bar that was locked to the floor. She had been this way for close to an hour.

“If you repent now we will commute your sentence and send you to recovery for a few days before returning you to the surface,” the pastor said, anxious to cut a deal.

“And end your fun? Come on,” Casey said, “you want to prolong this and so do these hags.”

“You will not,” began the supermarket lady before the neighbor lady grabbed her arm.

“Yeah, stifle her,” said Casey, “tell me, ladies, how often do you slide under the covers to suck your husband’s cock? And how often do you roll onto your bellies to let them enter you form behind or in the behind?”

“QUIET!” screamed the pastor, getting up and walking over to Casey. He slapped her across each cheek. Casey felt her face burn up. Tears welled up in her eyes. She tasted blood in her mouth. “You continue this behavior and we’ll make the Inquisition look like a summer picnic!” he continued to scream, “we’ll make sure you leave here with no sense of who you are. Maybe we’ll just sent you to the psych hospital, say you’re insane. You know what they do to insane people there? Those horny burly Pagan guards. You’ll get your fill there. Maybe I should make a few calls. A diagnosis will be easy to get.” He backed away and sat down again.

“Now, Casey, my dear, please don’t waste any more of our time. We never intended to keep you here for two hundred days. People break within a week. I was hoping to reintroduce you to the community at last week’s service,” the pastor said with an air of resignation in his voice.

Casey took a deep breath, “I don’t think so. I love sodomy and so do you.” She smiled even though tears ran down her face.

The pastor turned the handle and the binds tightened further. Casey screamed out in pain. The women looked away as Casey’s arms were pulled further behind her. “REPENT!” the pastor screamed as the handle locked. “REPENT!”

Casey was panting, “Ahhhh, no.” She drew a deep breath, the pain was unbearable. “I love sodomy and so do you,” her voice trailed off as she was close to passing out. The pastor released the handle and the pulley released her arms which flopped down to her back.

“Let’s give her some time to think about it and start over,” he said to the women.

The neighbor lady untied Casey’s arms while the other woman asked the pastor, “where to now?”

The pastor thought for a moment. “Put her in the dry box. Feed her the same.”

The dry box was another name for a room half the size as Casey’s current room but with zero amenities, except for a light. A deep hole served as a toilet. Daily rations constituted of the same amount of water and food as before along with four squares of toilet paper with a wad of toothpaste on one corner. If that wasn’t enough there was the banana peel. Any water brought to her was to be consumed immediately. And every other day, she was given a wet washcloth to wipe her hands and face so she could kneel and read a long passage from the Bible. Casey didn’t mind doing that.

Casey remained there until her period arrived, which was eight days into her dry box stint. Then they returned her to her room and shunned her for five days. She welcomed the running water, the ability to wash herself. But once her period was done she was returned to the dry box for two more weeks. The pastor never paid a visit during this 27 day stretch.

VIII

Casey’s confinement had changed her body. Her underarms had sprouted lots of hair, and a light coating of brown hair covered her legs. Her feet were caked with dirt. Her body was dusty in general. Whenever possible she wouldn’t swallow all the water they made her drink so that when they would leave she would spit the water into her cupped hand and rub it on her pussy, washing off the filth. She was more determined than ever to hold firm. After all, it couldn’t be giving them much pleasure to keep her like this. Plus, the pastor would need his fill soon.

On the morning of the 28th day, after Casey had had a chance to eat and relieve herself, she was taken from the dry box to the interrogation room. Awaiting her was a polished wooden plank, narrow side up, about one inch wide, that was placed on two wooden crosses that were resting on the ground. Casey was made to climb on top of the plank, her feet barely touched the ground as the narrow plank pressed against her pussy. She was made to lie back and her hands were cuffed below the plank. A belt was used to secure her forehead to the plank. The plank pressed hard against the back of her head. Her back was arched so that her feet dangled from the sides. Her feet were folded at the knees and secured at the ankles to two rings that were fixed to the underside of the plank. This ensured that the plank rested in Casey’s butt crack and her slightest movement caused the wood to rub against her pussy. This was a very uncomfortable position to be in. Casey was panting. Her heart was pounding. Beads of sweat formed on her face. Her arms had been stretched out so that they were secured to the cross behind her head.

After what seemed like ages, the pastor entered.

“I see they’ve brought you out from the squalor of the dry box. A filthy mind deserves a filthy body,” he quipped.

“I love sodomy. Long time, no see,” Casey said with contempt dripping from her voice.

“What a shame,” the pastor said, pulling up a chair and sitting next to Casey, whose every squirm sent her juices rushing between her legs. “I see this might be a more pleasurable setting for you,” he continued.

“Now, we have work to do. The deal still stands. Repent now and this will all come to a close. Resist and we will make life harder for you. If you think that it can’t get any worse, you are badly mistaken.

“Since you love to pleasure body parts meant for other unpleasurable purposes, it’s time we let you get a sense of how dirty those body parts can be. You like someone’s tongue to caress the parts that deliver waster. You like to use your tongue for the same purpose. Your fingers too. You like to have objects inserted into you. You prefer the manhood to penetrate your waste orifice. I could go on.

“Nothing more than bread and water, for days on end. A tiny, dark box into which you will be curled up. No room to stand or lie down. A small hole to relieve yourself, or maybe not. You’ll just have to co-exist with your waste. Let it soak the floor, let it pile up. Let the stench burn your nostrils. Let your skin be covered in filth. Let you turn into something worse than an animal, because that’s what you are, a whore, a sodomite, the worst of the lot. Maybe we can put you on display as an example.

“Now, be a good girl and repeat after me. I, Casey Ann Rogers, am a sinner and hereby repent with all my heart and beg the Lord for forgiveness.”

Casey was silent for a moment. Then she spoke softly.

“I, Casey Ann Rogers, am not a sinner and hereby declare that I love sodomy and so does the pastor.”

The pastor got up and left.

The next time Casey heard his voice was when he opened the slot to her box, letting in the dim glow of the light. He said in a firm voice, “today is day one hundred of your penance. Do you wish to repent now?”

“I love sodomy,” said Casey with a sneer, picking up a hard ball of poop and flinging it at him.

He closed the slot, turning the lock. He got up and turned to the neighbor lady. “How much are you feeding her?”

“Three slices of bread and a jug of water each day,” she replied.

“Make that two slices,” he ordered her, storming off.

In reality, the women were being far kinder to Casey than they had been instructed to. They continued giving her a banana and a carrot. And even the four squares of toilet paper and a dollop of toothpaste. They couldn’t get her out of the box as the pastor had the key but they would sometimes slip her a wet washcloth. They even helped her clean the floor of the box.

Until the pastor found out and relieved them of the responsibilities.

IX

When the pastor opened the door fourteen days later, on day 114 of her penance, Casey was sitting against one corner, her knees pulled to her chest, her arms tightly gripping her ankles.

“Crawl out of there,” he ordered her. Casey slowly leaned forward and crawled out of the box on all fours. She looked her worst. She had lost weight, her hair was all matted and stringy. She followed him, her breasts dangling below her as she crawled down the dimly lit corridor. They stopped at the entrance to the torture chamber.

“What is it going to be?” the pastor asked her.

Casey lifted herself up, straightening her back, still on her knees. She looked the pastor in the eye and said, “Jesus.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Jesus,” she repeated, “I love sodomy and so do you.”

The pastor dropped to his knees and grabbed Casey by the chin. Pressing hard he looked her in the eye and said, “listen you filthy whore, you slut, you sodomite. How does one slice of bread and one glass of water per day sound? Or maybe a cracker and a small cup of water? What is it going to take to end this charade?”

He let go of Casey’s chin to let her reply. She forced a smile and said, “fuck me. Fuck me up the ass like you so badly want to do to your wife.

He didn’t do that but he took her into the room, hung her by the wrists from the ceiling and whipped her for the first time. He used a special whip that left no marks on her skin. He lashed her front and back, landing more blows on her breasts and ass. Casey passed out on multiple occasions. Her screams grew fainter each time she came around. The pastor tired and took a break and came back and whipped her some more. When he dropped to the ground, stripped to his underwear, drenched in sweat, exhausted, Casey muttered, “I love sodomy and so do you.”

The pastor got up and picked up his clothes and walked out of the room. Casey, barely conscious and writhing in agony caught a glimpse of the obvious sign that the pastor was well and truly aroused by all of this.

X

“Here you go, drink some more, it’ll help you get your strength back,” the middle-aged lady said to Casey, who was sitting up on a firm mattress.  She sipped the warm, sweet drink. The lady had been bringing her the same drink several times a day.

Casey was still sore from the lengthy confinement and prolonged whipping. On the pastor’s orders she had been left to dangle for another four hours before she was taken down and revived with a jet of cold water. Dripping wet but very weak, she had been dragged to a washroom where she was scrubbed clean by three women, the two who had tormented her for so many days, plus this lady whom she had never seen before. Together they soaped, scrubbed and shampooed her, cleaning all the sweat, dirt and filth off her body. Casey enjoyed all the attention but she was too weak and tired to even smile. When they finished a process that took close to three hours, she was strapped to a gurney and rolled into another room, where under bright lights she was sedated and remained that way for close to a week, during which she was flushed with fluids via two IV lines and thoroughly drained. When the sedation wore off, she was helped to her feet and made to walk around the room several times a day. Then she was hosed from head to toe and escorted to a room which had a mattress and a hole toilet.

The lady stood by the door and spoke as Casey drank, “now dear, why are you being so difficult? We are only trying to help you and save you from what torments you. The pastor means well, we all mean well.”

Casey stopped drinking and looked the woman in the eye, “you have kept me naked for months now. Is that a Christian thing to do? You locked me in a small box for weeks. Do you know what it’s like in there? I bet you’d love to find out. Or maybe you once did.”

The lady looked annoyed, “unfortunately we cannot make all the laws in this community, else we’d have you tied to a cross and put on display in the town square for all to egg you and spit on you. That’s what whores and sodomites deserve. And we’d get the lowest life forms in the human race to violate you constantly. You think you are unrecognizable now, just think how you’d look and feel if we truly punished like a Christian.”

“Sure. Bring it on. I love sodomy. And I bet you do too,” Casey sneered, spreading her legs and rubbing her pussy with one hand, in full view of the lady who looked away.

“Come on, want to taste,” she dared her. The lady stepped forward and grabbed the empty cup, “sick whore,” she yelled, storming out of the room.

“What are you afraid of,” Casey yelled after her, as the door slammed shut, “what’s a little pussy between friends?” Casey slowly crawled off the mattress. She crawled the few steps to the hole and knelt over it, she rested her butt on her heels and peed. She was amazed at how often she had to pee and how much came out each time. Must be those drinks, she thought to herself. When she finished she crawled back to the mattress, wet between the legs. She lay down and pressed her legs tightly together, rubbing her thighs so that she aroused herself. But her strength got her so far. She stopped and rolled onto her side and closed her eyes.

XI

“With all due respect, Pastor, do you think this is working?” one of the elders who was at Casey’s trial asked.

The Pastor glared at him, “give it time. These are proven methods.”

“Yes, but you have pushed every limit and she is still defiant.”

“Maybe it’s time to fight fire with fire.”

“You mean, commit sins to cure the sinner?”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know about that,” another elder chimed in, “I wish we could publicly humiliate and degrade her but that won’t work but I’m sure we can reason with her, maybe through respect. Perhaps we can clothe her and house her better. Show that we are compassionate and willing to forgive. Turn the tables on her a bit.”

“Nonsense,” the Pastor thundered, startling everyone, “she deserves no better until she repents! She must repent first! A sodomite like her cannot be treated the same way we treat each other! She must remain naked! I wish I could put her back in the box! A filthy mind must have a filthy body! But no, you got your way this one,” he got up, “just this once. Never again. She will repent before me, then we’ll see about the clothes and the comforts!”

The Pastor stormed out of his office and descended the stairs to the cellar.

XII

Casey was stretched on the rack, her ribs prominent and almost protruding. She was 107 pounds at her most recent check-up. She was sweating. Her heart was racing. Her body wasn’t at any breaking point but she was uncomfortable. She couldn’t turn her head and she was gagged with a piece of cloth.

The Pastor held a candle above her as he spoke, “you see Casey, your friends upstairs want me to clothe you and feed you gourmet dinners. They want you to have a nice comfortable bed, even a proper toilet and a daily shower with unlimited water. I bet you want that too. Now I know what you are going to say but it won’t come out, and neither will your screams.” He tilted the candle and a drop of hot, molten wax fell onto Casey’s stomach, just above her belly button. Casey grimaced as the wax cooled on her skin.

“How about I make a pattern, a ring around your nipples?” the Pastor asked, bringing the candle close to Casey’s left breast, “isn’t this what you sodomites like to call BDSM? Bondage, domination and sado-masochism? Pleasure through pain, sometimes intense pain.” He tilted the candle and a drop landed just below Casey’s nipple. She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a stifled scream. Tears welled up in her eyes.

“Think about it. I have lots of candles. I can make lovely patterns. I was good at graphic design in my youth. I can use your body as a canvas.” Another drop of wax, this time under her right nipple. He continued to pattern a ring around each nipple and her belly button. Casey continued to withstand the torment, hoping it would end with three patterns and not more.

The Pastor stepped away for a little while. When he returned her relaxed the pulleys and allowed Casey’s body to relax. He removed that gag and peeled the dry wax off the spots on her body, leaving white marks on her skin. “Beautiful,” he said.

“I know what you’d like to say, just save it,” he continued, removing her shackles. “Drop to your knees”, he ordered her. Casey climbed off the table and fell to her knees. The two women who had been through this process with Casey for so long came inside and stood on either side of her.

“Fight fire with fire. That’s the Lord’s orders to me. Perhaps after today, you will repent,” the Pastor said, opening his fly and pulling out his semi-erect penis. The two women looked away, but kept their hands on Casey’s shoulders.

“I knew it,” Casey said, “you’re just like us, a regular person, repressed through his own hypocrisy.” The Pastor’s cock grew before her face. She looked up to him and said, “never.”

The women dropped to their knees and grabbed Casey’s arms, holding them behind her and then gripping her around the front. Casey put up a struggle, twisting her neck away from the Pastor’s cock which was a mere inch from her mouth. “I’ll bite it off,” she screamed, “I don’t do faggots!”

The Pastor rubbed his cock as Casey kept turning her head from side to side, refusing to take it in, “I love sodomy,” she’d scream over and over again, until several squirts of cum lashed face, even entering her mouth. The women threw her to the floor and pinned her down. Casey’s face was covered with cum.

“This will wash it off,” the Pastor said, aiming his flaccid cock at her face and peeing all over it. One of the women had managed to hold her mouth open. Casey gagged and gurgled , spitting out as much as she could.

“Hose her down and throw her in the concrete cell!” the Pastor roared, zipping up his pants and storming out of the room.

XIII

“May the Lord bear witness to this occasion,” the Pastor addressed the all-adult congregation, “this is a momentous day for the community.

“You are here to bear witness to the failure of one of our own to repent. For months we have tried, we have prayed, we have reasoned, yet we dare not say we have failed when our methods have worked so well in the past.

“Casey refuses when it’s not in her best interest. We have had no recourse but to resort to threats. The threat of public disgrace and humiliation now hangs above her,” he said, pointing to a black screen that stood off to side on the stage. The two women sat on either side of the screen, ready to open it.

“She refuses to wear clothes. She refuses to eat what we give her, opting to water and some bread. So she’s fasting, you may say. That’s penance. But where is the repentance. At each opportunity she utters those three words. She commits a sin each time. She is stubborn, obstinate. Her filthy mind knows no bounds. She refuses to wash so we have to hose her down each day. She wishes to live like an animal. A filthy body to accompany a filthy mind. We will not accept it. She will repent. If not before this great gathering, but under further pressure from the Lord. The Lord will speak to her. She will leave here absolved of her sins.

“I have asked you all for suggestions and comments. I have reviewed all of them. I appreciate your efforts. You are helping rehabilitate one of our own who has strayed but who can be corrected. Let us all see for ourselves what her sins have done to her. Or for that matter, what she has done to herself. Open the screen.”

The women rose and pulled the screen open. An audible gasp rippled through the hall as scores of judgmental eyes landed on Casey. Then shouts of “whore”, “slut”, “sodomite” rang out amidst loud boos and jeers. Casey looked down at the ground. There were no tears.

She was shackled to a cross that was mounted on a cart. Her arms were held in place with steel cuffs. Her feet were secured the same way, except that they were fixed to the sides of the vertical beam and not to the front. A final shackle fixed her neck via a collar. She was gagged with a piece of cloth. Her hair was tied loosely.

She was naked. The marks from the wax were no longer visible. Everyone was seeing her for the first time since her “trial”. No one was appalled at the sight. Everyone was too busy judging her and jeering her. Finally, after ten minutes of loud humiliation, the Pastor raised his hand and everyone slowly calmed down.

He spoke again, “this is the body of a sinner. One who is consorting with Satan in her mind. You may ask, has she gone mad? Quite the opposite. She is in perfect mental health. Some have suggested treatments that might seem right but are unfortunately, illegal and even un-Christian. We must try our best to cure her and keep her. If she chooses to leave the community, we will let her go. To this day, she has expressed no such wish.

“Based on your recommendations and further discussions between me and the elders, here is what is going to happen.

“She still has 33 days of penance left based on her original sentence. We will let her husband reason with her today. If he is successful and she repents, she will be free to go. If he fails he may return multiple times to try again. In the meantime, we will make her toil. No more sitting around the room behaving badly. She may be able to toil her sins away. Hard labor may take her mind off her sodomite thoughts and perhaps, she will see her follies.

“Should day 200 roll around and she has still failed to repent. We will give her three choices: repent now and be rehabilitated, leave the community or toil for one hundred more days and we will give you one last chance to repent. We are reasonable people here. We are a forgiving people. We want to help this poor wretched soul. Close the screen.”

The screen closed around Casey as the gathering began to jeer and yell again. The Pastor stopped them and moved on with the program. An hour later, everybody dispersed and Casey was wheeled back to the basement, into the catacombs where she was freed from the cross and thrown into the concrete cell. This cell was about six feet long and four feet wide. It had bars for a door so she could be watched at all times. There was a concrete ledge, about six inches high and eighteen inches wide that ran the length of the cell, along the wall. It was for sitting or sleeping. Finally, there was a hole, six inches in diameter and several feet deep and that served as the toilet.

Casey stood in the middle of the cell as the door slid shut behind her. She was rubbing her wrists which had deep red welts from the shackles. Then she heard a voice and turned around.

“Just repent and we can go home now,” said her husband.

“You finally decide to show up,” Casey sneered at him, stepping back and sitting on the ledge, leaning against the wall. She held her legs tightly together, she crossed her arms over her breasts.

“Come on. The kids no longer ask about you. Why are you doing this to yourself and to them? And to us?”

“Us? There never was an “us”!” Casey shot back, “If there was an “us”, slip your cock through the bars and I’ll suck it good. Bet you would want that. Deep down, you know you want that.”

“Casey, perish such thoughts,” he said nervously.

“Why? Are you saving yourself for your faggot friends? Is your Bible study group a front for homo loving? Tell me, do you love sodomy but with men?”

Tom dropped to his knees in prayer. Casey snickered and called out, “hey faggot, check this out.”

Casey relaxed and spread her legs and pulled them up so her heels were resting on the edge of the ledge. “Come on, see for yourself what you are missing,” she said.

“Please sit properly,” Tom said, looking away.

“Properly? Do you even see how I am? How can anything be proper if I am naked and caged like a fucking animal?” Casey yelled.

“Please, your language. Come on, just repent now, will you? Let’s go home.”

Casey took a deep breath and let a stream of piss emerge. She peed down the side of the ledge and the stream ran off towards the hole. Tom was kneeling, head bowed in prayer, arms above his shoulders. Casey finished, leaving behind a glistening wet, hairy mound. “Bet you’d like to lick me dry, you sick puppy,” she said, pulling her knees close to her chest and hugging them tightly.

Tom got up and walked away. Casey called out, “I love sodomy and so does Tom Rogers!” He didn’t look back. He stepped into the basement office to have a word with the women. Casey smiled and lay down on the hard ledge. Her stomach growled. She closed her eyes.

XIV

“The choice is yours. 33 days in the dry box or hard labor, work of our choosing,” the neighbor lady said to Casey, who was finishing an overdue meal. Two slices of bread ends, a banana and a pear, washed down with a liter of water. She sat on the floor of the cell, her side facing the woman who stood outside.

“I’ll work. I’m bored,” Casey said with an air of resignation in her voice.

“Well, the Pastor is tired of trying to extract repentance from you,” the lady continued, “plus now that you have rejected your husband you are the property of the Church and we can use you as we please. Unless, of course, you choose to either repent or leave the community.”

“Not a chance. I will do neither until the Pastor admits that he loves sodomy like me.”

The lady said nothing. Casey finished eating and tossed the banana peel to one corner. She handed the empty bottle through the bars to the lady who said, “let’s get to work,” and opened the cell door. Casey stepped out into the corridor.

“Do you see the length of this corridor,” the lady asked. Casey nodded, arms folded, “at that end is a bucket of water and a rag. Your job today is to wipe the floor, the entire length, by hand. Do not take a break unless one of us authorizes you to. You must be on all fours our crouching at all times. Do not rise to stand unless we say so. Do not sit on your backside unless we say so. Understand?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Casey said, “I’ll scrub your fucking floors. Then what?”

“Watch your tongue and get to work,” the lady pointed to the far end of the corridor. The corridor was about 100 yards long. Casey trudged off to the end where her supplies awaited her. Once there she crouched and soaked the rag in the water and leaning over, began to wipe the floor from wall to wall. The corridor was narrow, about ten feet max. She had to wipe nearly 3000 square feet of floor with her bare hands.

XV

“See that filthy water in the bucket? Don’t worry, we won’t make you drink it,” the Pastor said, “it reflects the filth in your mind. You look at it, you don’t see your reflection. You see filth and dirt.”

Casey had been wiping the floor for hours. She had gone from end to end, twice. When she had finished the first length she was given close to two liters of water to drink. Now she was also hungry. When she had to pee she just went on the floor as she wiped and then she wiped it up, so in essence she had been spreading her piss across the floor. She smiled at the thought.

But she was exhausted. Her arms hurt. Her back hurt. She was about to start the third iteration when the Pastor said, “enough, stand up.”

Casey slowly rose to her feet, dropping the rag to the floor, flexing her arms.

“There is plenty of work to do and you will do it. Your obedience today shows that there is still hope. Now will you drop to your knees like a good girl and show me your talents?” The Pastor rubbed his hand over his crotch.

“Not a chance,” Casey said.

“I figured,” the Pastor said, turning away. He walked a few feet and turned around and said, “back to work until further notice. And by the way, you are newly single. The Church granted Tom his wish of dissolution.” He walked away.

“I love sodomy and so do you,” Casey yelled out. She kicked the bucket, splashing dirty water onto the floor. She picked up the rag and flung it into the bucket. The Pastor stopped in his tracks and began to return towards Casey who was standing still, staring him down as he approached. Then in an instant she picked up the bucket of water and flung it towards him, soaking him in the process. She threw the bucket down and let out a laugh. The Pastor, not knowing what to do, paused for a moment. He pressed his “panic” button that he always carried during such adventures. He stood there, soaking wet as reinforcements arrived. The two women hurried over, followed by two men in black robes. Casey remained defiant, screaming her line over and over again as the two men led her away, one of them placing a hood over her head.

XVI

Casey stared at the ground, a teardrop fell from her eyes and hit the ground below her. Her body ached like never before. Parts of her skin felt like they were on fire. She was in stocks, her neck secured in a wooden plank, her wrists secured to the same plank, through two holes. She was leaning forward, her body at ninety degrees, her feet spread wide and secured to posts. There were clamps on her nipples. There was a plug of some sort in her anus, penetrating deep, stretching her like some of those cocks she was good at taking. Whipmarks criss-crossed her back, butt and thighs. They weren’t quite welts but they were marks made as a result of a lengthy whipping with a leather belt. The two men in robes took turns whipping her. They were, however, kind enough to give her water from time to time. She, in turn, returned the favor by peeing all over the floor.

Casey’s mind was drifting. She was getting a little delirious. The pain, the agony, the humiliation, the deprivation was all getting to her. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. Then she heard a buzzing noise.

The Pastor approached her with a shear. Casey knew what was coming.

“We haven’t truly humiliated you,” the Pastor sneered, “a woman’s head is shaved whenever she needs to be humiliated in front of the masses. Other parts are shaved too.” He leaned over and sheared off a strip of hair from the middle of her head. The tangled, knotted locks fell to the floor.

Two lashes landed on her back. Casey let out screams that were getting weaker and weaker.

With each run of the shear, two lashes fell on various parts of her body.

Four more runs of the shear and eight lashes later, Casey’s head was shaved clean. The Pastor walked behind her.

Then Casey felt something jabbing her pussy. It was soft and fleshy, not some object. It was the Pastor’s cock.

“You won’t suck me, so I’ll get my fill in another way,” he said, slowly entering her. Casey clenched and resisted as best as she could but the entry was smooth and as lashes rained down on her back, the Pastor moved inside her, stretching her but she was accommodating. A piece of cloth was tied around her mouth to stop her from screaming. The Pastor shot his load into her and withdrew. More lashes followed, this time on her butt and legs and one of the robed men entered her. Then the other. Then the Pastor. After each had gone thrice, they stopped and left the room, removing Casey’s gag and forcing her to drink loads of water, which she did.

As cum leaked out of her aching pussy and hit the floor, Casey closed her eyes and sighed. The room was dark. The walls seemed to be closing in around her. She felt no more pain. She peed a river onto the floor, washing the cum off her pussy lips and off the floor.

“I love sodomy,” she muttered.

Eventually, she was taken out of the stocks and carried to her cell. With no strength whatsoever, Casey fell to the floor in a tired, sore heap and virtually passed out.

Hours later, it was more of the same. This time they gave her some bread. Plus, the day began with a jolt of cold water onto her face and pussy.

The next day, she remained in stocks but they had her suspended from the ceiling so that they could lash her breasts and stomach.

XVII

Casey drifted in and out of consciousness. The room was hot and stuffy. The fans were on but they were not on her. They were loud, so loud that she couldn’t here the comings and goings of anybody. But she knew that there were people coming and going as she lay immobilized on the table, her arms secured to the posts behind her, her legs spread and folded at the knee and secured so she couldn’t move an inch, her mouth gagged, her throat parched, two IV lines in her arms pumping her with fluids and an occasional sedative to numb her, the bright light on her face, forcing her to keep her eyes shut, the throbbing between her legs, the sharp jolt of cold water on her pussy prior to someone descending on her with brute force, sliding into her with no compassion, ramming her with primal male hardness, ending with a burst of sticky cum that dribbled out of her as they withdrew. The cum dribbled down towards her butt crack, clinging to the many hard curls of hair that were tangled around her most intimate and no-longer private parts. The plug in her ass was pushed deep so that with everything thrust of her tormentor the plug moved ever so slightly, keeping her constantly sodomized, as the Pastor loved to remind her.

She couldn’t hear her stomach growling. They kept her well-hydrated throughout the time she spent on this newly-introduced repentance table, for the piss gushed out of her every hour or even more frequently, sometimes catching the withdrawing man off-guard, forcing him to return the compliment.

Casey lay there for hours, a piss and cum-soaked mess, covered in sweat and tears, unable to move or speak as the Pastor made her “toil”. Finally, at the end of a long stretch of brutality, she would be hauled off to her cell and dumped there. Somebody would come around and hose her down, squirt some toothpaste into her mouth and toss her three slices of bread and a gallon of water and leave her for the night, or day, she had no way of telling.

XVIII

Casey’s head had been freshly shaved and she now lay on the rack, stretched out but not quite to the painful limit. Her ribs were more prominent thanks to further weight loss. She recently tipped the scales at 105 pounds. She hadn’t been brought out of her cell for a few days and she was wondering what was up. The big day, day 200, had arrived and she was expected to repent and win her freedom.

The Pastor arrived, flanked by the two women. No robed me this time. He put down his bag and pulled out a device that Casey had never seen before. He set it down between Casey’s breasts so that the label faced her. She lifted her head slightly and saw the word “TASER”. She grimaced. The pastor pulled up a chair. He turned to the women, “strap her head and torso down.” The women tied the belt around Casey’s forehead and one more just under her ribcage.

The Pastor continued, “Casey, before I saw or do anything further, today is your 200th day of penance. Is there something you wish to say?”

Casey couldn’t turn her head. A cold sweat broke out all over her body. She was breathing deeply. She blinked her eyes a few times and took in a deep breath. Her heart was racing. Softly, mustering whatever strength she had left, she said in a whisper, “Jesus. I love. I love sodomy and so do you,” her voice trailed off.

“Very well,” the Pastor said, “you have chosen to remain on this path. You are aware of the fact that you do not exist to the Christian world any more. Your identity has been scrubbed from the county records. Your belongings were burned in a church bonfire. We sang and prayed around the fire. You do not exist. We have no problems keeping you here. After all, we get an unrepentant whore like you only once in a generation and we can continue to make an example out of you for years to come. Or, if you wish to go free, we can dump you at the county line, naked and leave you to the elements or some poor soul who might take pity on you, or some vagabond sodomite who might give you what you desire. Together you can engage in this behavior in the woods for years to come. After all, you know how to live like an animal.”

He picked up the taser and turned it on. A soft buzzing sound emanated from the device. One of the women turned a wheel and the legs on the rack parted. She then turned another wheel, stretching Casey out a bit more.

“Now Casey,” the Pastor said, “is there anything else you wish to say?” He brought the taser close to her ribcage, an inch from the bottom of her right breast.

“I love sodomy,” Casey whispered defiantly, the last syllable morphing into a loud wail as the Pastor pressed the taser against her ribs, jolting her momentarily.

“Again,” the Pastor said, “here’s your chance.”

Casey was bawling, “fuck off!” She yelled as the Pastor jolted her on the other side and then got up and stood between her legs, at her knees as Casey’s bladder emptied  onto the floor below her.

“Filthy pig!” the Pastor screamed, pressing the taser against her inner thigh, just an inch or so from the end of her tangled, thick bush. Without giving her a chance to say anything this time, her flipped the switch and then did the same to the other thigh. Casey’s scream grew faint as she passed out from the pain and agony.

One of the women threw a bucket of cold water onto her face. She came to, gasping for air.

“I could stuff this inside you and leave it on all day,” the Pastor screamed, waving the taser over his head.

“I love sodomy and so do you,” Casey said in a choked voice.

The Pastor held the taser firmly against Casey’s pussy, almost teasing her with it by rubbing it against her.

“You like that, don’t you? Like the tongue of a sodomite, licking your dirty loins. Or some spiked hair dyke, who craves the filth that flows from your body, who perhaps, as a precursor to stuffing you with some toy, licks you and perhaps drinks your piss.”

Casey braced for the worst as the Pastor rubbed the metal taser on her clit. Oddly enough she found it arousing, sensing the wetness that she could never avoid, even during the worst of times. That’s probably what kept the pain down as all those cocks entered her, day after day.

“Last chance Casey,” the Pastor said, his thumb on the switch.

“Whatever,” mumbled Casey as one of the women stuffed a plastic ball into her mouth. Casey bit down hard and closed her eyes.

The Pastor flipped the switch.

XIX

Casey felt the cool sea breeze bring the refreshing mist on to her body. Her feet were buried in the warm sand. She closed her eyes and took in the wonderful sensation. The mist coated her breasts making her nipples tingle. She raised her hands and ran her fingers through her hair. Her nails were shiny from the manicure. She stood in just a low-rise bikini bottom that barely covered her ass and had three narrow strings holding it in place on each side, baring plenty of her lustrous skin to the world. She felt a familiar tingle between her legs, her first Brazilian wax had heightened her senses down below but for now her smooth pussy lips were covered with the flimsy cloth of her bikini bottom.

She began to walk towards the water, ready to wade in, without a care in the world. Her companion and lover was lying on a towel, several feet away, buried in a book. Slowly she stepped into the cool water, and eventually she was neck deep and loving every moment. Here, with no one to see, she slipped her hand into her bikini bottom and felt her warmth, even in the cool water.

Then a strange feeling overcame her. She felt as though she was being pulled down and the water was swirling around her. Was she sinking into a vortex? Was this the Bermuda Triangle? Was there some horrendous undercurrent that was about to sweep her out to see? Will she survive? She was an excellent swimmer. Would she be picked up by pirates, miles from shore?

The water started to get hot and close around her. She had been pulled into the water. She held her breath but then she was pulled into the mud and through the earth. She was falling fast. She tried to scream but nothing came out. Her bikini bottom had been ripped from her. Hair began to sprout between her legs and a full bush emerged. Her neatly manicured nails turned misshaped and grubby. The Pastor glared at her from all directions, his voice booming, with a chorus of chants behind him.

She woke up with a shudder and in a cold sweat. Yes she had been dreaming. She felt a warm gush between her legs, accompanied by a tingling sensation. She turned onto her side and ignored the puddle she was lying in. She closed her eyes and tried to think about the beach but all she could see was the journey into hell.

She did fall asleep, only to be awoken by the blast of cold water that washed away the piss and sweat, leaving her soaking wet. A banana and piece of bread was thrown at her through the bars of her cell. Her water jug was filled.

Up above, the congregation gathered and re-elected the Pastor to a second three-year term. He won 86% of the vote.

And outside the church, a small group of young protestors, including the Pastor’s 19 year old daughter, held a prayer vigil with one sign, “Free Casey”.

XX

Casey woke up with a start when she heard someone scream. It had been a while since anyone else had been brought down for “penance”. The last person she heard was there briefly. She, on the other hand, was still holding out. The Pastor hadn’t even visited her in days and she hadn’t been let out of her cell the entire time. She was being watched constantly through the surveillance system and she got a visit from one of the ladies three times a day. The first visit yielded a banana and piece of bread, the second visit a paper bowl of grits and the third visit two slices of bread, a carrot and an apple. Each time they filled her water jug. She was hosed down at the first visit and given a toothbrush and strong mouthwash at the third.

Of course, she was still naked. Her hair had grown out and was tangled up. She saved the banana peel and paper bowl and used them in place of toilet paper, which had been removed from her life months ago. And her toilet, as always, was the deep hole in the concrete floor.

Her pussy tingled constantly. She had no recollection of the taser treatment. She had passed out from the intense pain. She kept her legs tight most of the time. Frequent, subtle rubbing of her thighs kept her in a state of arousal and bliss. She wanted to bury her fingers in her pussy but she knew that would result in a visit from the Pastor and his thugs.

The screams resumed. Casey thought she heard her say “No Daddy, please.” He’s torturing his own daughter? Casey knew the Pastor’s daughter. A sweet college freshman who was attending college outside the county, much to her parents’ dismay. It was a Christian college, so they were somewhat relieved. But what had she done? Casey didn’t know that Nadine was spearheading the “Free Casey” movement.

Casey heard several footsteps. She got up and pressed her face against the bars of her cell and tried to look towards the side. She could hear some chains clanging. The sounds got louder and a female voice was shouting, “move it whores!” Casey took a step back as they got closer to the cell. She watched in amazement as four naked, hooded women, each with their hands cuffed behind the backs, an iron collar around their necks and ankle cuffs in place, shuffled past her cell, followed by two of the women who routinely attended to Casey. They didn’t look at her. Casey noticed whipmarks on the backs of two of the women. She got a whiff of their sweaty bodies as they shuffled past. As the sounds faded she stepped back and sat down on the concrete ledge.

Then she heard the roar of the Pastor and more footsteps. As they came around a corner Casey noticed that he wasn’t alone. Nadine was with him. He pushed her hard and she came up against the bars of Casey’s cell. She grabbed the bars to steady herself. She was shaking and crying.

Nadine was about 5’5” and slender. Her dirty blonde hair was loosely tied. She was wearing white slacks and a pink shirt. Above her left breast was a button that read “Free Casey”. Casey’s eyes welled up when she saw that. She also noticed that Nadine’s pants were wet between her legs and down her inner thigh. Nadine grabbed the bars tightly and screamed at her father, “let her go. Let us all go. Stop this nonsense!”

The Pastor grabbed her by the hair and said, “you shut up, you ingrate!” He proceeded to push her hands through the bars and cuff them. He continued, “look at her. This is who you are praying for? Do you wish to become like her? That fancy college has given you these ideas! We should never have let you go there!

“This sodomite deserves the worst! She doesn’t deserve our prayers. There are plenty of others you can pray for. Tell me, do you love sodomy? Are you like her? Are you practicing lesbianism in college?”

“No Daddy, please stop. I just want everyone to forgive Casey and move on. What she does is none of our business,” Nadine protested.

“It is our business!” the Pastor howled, “we live by God’s standards. Not anybody elses! This isn’t Europe or Canada or California!”

“Where are my friends?” Nadine demanded to know.

“We’ll hold them until they repent.”

“Why am I not with them? I don’t deserve special treatment. Treat me as you are treating them!”

Casey got up and walked towards Nadine. “Step back!” screamed the Pastor, “don’t get your filthy hands on my daughter!”

Casey stopped inches from Nadine and said, “I love sodomy.” She then turned and looked the Pastor in the eye and said, “and so do you.”

Nadine was trembling. She was breathing fast. She said, “Daddy, lock me up with her. I refuse to go home or do anything that you say.”

“It’s not that easy. You have to earn your special place in hell,” the Pastor said.

“What about the others? Why were they marched off naked, hooded and shackled,” Casey asked.

“They are sodomites and lesbians. Also sympathetic to your cause,” the Pastor replied.

“And how am I different,” Nadine asked.

“You just are,” said the Pastor. He stepped forward and unlocked her hands. She pushed him away and took a few steps back. She began peeling off her clothes.

“Lock me up Daddy. I love sodomy,” she said, throwing her bra to the floor and unbuttoning her pants.

“Stop it, Nadine,” the Pastor said, a look of horror on his face, “put your clothes back on. We’re leaving now.”

“Why the half-ass treatment? You had me on the rack for an hour,” Nadine said, pulling her pants down and standing in her wet panties, “lock me up with the rest. Make me suffer like all of them. Treat me like and animal like the rest.” She pulled her panties down and tossed them aside. “I support Casey. I will not leave until she does.”

The Pastor stood frozen. He didn’t know what to do. Nadine walked towards her. “Come on, Daddy. Do what’s right and what’s fair. I’m an adult. I’m 19. I can say and do as I please. I answer to no one, not even God. Maybe there is no God.”

The Pastor slapped her across the face. A burning sensation went through Nadine’s cheek. She tasted blood in her mouth. Tears welled up in her eyes.

“Let’s face it,” she said, her voice quivering, “if God was good and merciful, wouldn’t he have asked you to let Casey go months ago? You’re going to Hell for your treatment of her!” Her voice rose as she said the last few words.

The Pastor pulled his belt off. “Nadine,” he said as calmly as he could, “please get dressed. Don’t make me do something you will regret.”

“I’ll have no regrets,” Nadine said, dropping to her knees and leaning forward and getting on all fours. Casey watched as Nadine’s ass faced the cell. The brown hair between her legs glistened in the dim light.

“Nadine, please don’t get involved. I’ll be fine,” Casey said.

“See, even the whore wants you to listen to your father,” the Pastor said with a smirk.

“I never said that you sodomite,” Casey yelled out.

“Whip me Daddy. Lock me up. Throw away the key. Free Casey. Free her now. I love sodomy!” Nadine said defiantly.

The Pastor began lashing her with his belt. Lashes rained down on her back as she held steady on the floor. She didn’t utter a sound as he lashed her back, butt and the back of her thighs. She began to tremble after a while. Casey stood transfixed, tears in her eyes as she watched Nadine get lashed for standing up to her father. The Pastor ran out of energy before Nadine ran out of endurance. He dropped the whip and fell to the floor in prayer. Nadine remained on all fours. Tears fell to the floor. She was trembling and shaking. She slowly got up to her feet and hobbled towards the wall. She leaned against it and slowly slid down to the ground, moaning in pain.

The Pastor got up and looked at Casey, “see what you made me do?”

Just then, the two women reappeared. They looked confused at what they were seeing. The Pastor looked at them and said, “my own daughter has turned against the Church. She even denied that God exists. I can’t decide what to do with her.” He walked away.

One of the women followed him. The other offered Nadine some water. She drank it. She picked up her clothes and brought them to her. Nadine ignored the gesture.

“Don’t do this to yourself Nadine. You don’t deserve this fate,” the woman said.

“Free Casey now. Free the others now,” Nadine muttered, “free the residents of this county. Let us all live our lives.”

The other woman reappeared and summoned her colleague. They spoke in whispers. One of them kept looking at Casey who was sitting down and staring at them. Nadine remained on the floor, leaning against the wall, exhausted and in pain.

They walked up towards Nadine and pulled her up. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up and we can talk.” Nadine pulled away and screamed, “leave me alone! Lock me up right here!”

“Nadine, please don’t,” implored one of the women, who was holding her clothes. The other woman reached into her pocket and pressed the panic button. Within seconds two men appeared.

“Don’t make us hand you over to these gentlemen,” the woman said to Nadine, “you’ll get more than what you’ve bargained for.”

“I’ll take sodomy over freedom any day,” Nadine said as the men approached her. She stood her ground. The women moved aside.

“Free Casey now,” Nadine said over and over again as the men closed in. Soon they were on either side of her. She didn’t seem to care. She continued her chant. The women went away. One of them looked over at Casey. He then walked towards the cell and unlocked it. As soon as he opened the door, Nadine dashed into the cell and threw her arms around Casey. She held her in a tight embrace, tears streaming down both of their faces. Casey muttered, “thank you” over and over again. The door slammed shut.

“Separate!” one of the men screamed, “now!” Nadine let go of Casey and turned towards him.

“Never tell me what to do,” she thundered, charging at the bars.

“If you wish to be with her, you must do as we say, or else we’ll take you away to someplace very unpleasant,” the man said.

The men pulled up chairs and began to hurl instructions at Nadine. She began to follow them. For the next two hours, Nadine’s tongue did a lot of work. Casey alternated from being on all fours to lying on her back with her knees pulled up to her breasts. Nadine didn’t complain, she paused to drink water once, but she drank the “juices of the sodomite” as the men enjoyed their on-demand lesbian show. They made Casey pee into Nadine’s mouth and forced Nadine to swallow it all. “I love sodomy,” Nadine kept muttering each time she came up for air.

“When do I get to go?” Casey demanded to know. She got no response.

Meanwhile, in his office, the Pastor was watching the scene unfold on his close-circuit TV. He ignored the ringing of the phone and beeping of his e-mail inbox.  Tears streamed down his face as he clutched his Bible.

His methods, so perfect, were out of reach now that his own daughter had gone over to Casey’s side. Only he could give the orders. Only he could administer certain punishments. He felt powerless, disgusted, even betrayed. Casey might have won this battle but the war was far from over. Day 300 was approaching and he was determined to turn that into a true day of reckoning. He hoped that the four protestors would still be holding firm. But he had to rescue Nadine from the depravity that she was putting herself through. Always a stubborn girl, he thought as he composed himself and picked up the phone.

XXI

Casey was sitting up and nibbling on her carrot. Nadine was curled up on the ledge and asleep. Casey looked at her and smiled. “Thank you,” she muttered, stroking her leg, as she took another bite of the raw carrot. She picked up the water jug and drank a large amount. She was beginning to feel sleepy as well. She put the half-eaten carrot down and pulled herself off the ledge and onto the floor. She stretched out, curling her knees and laying on her side. Her back was to the bars so that the corridor light stayed out of her eyes. She closed her eyes.

She felt herself being lifted off the ground. Before she could gauge the situation a hood was pulled over her head. She smelled something sweet. The hood seemed damp. Whoever was handling her was very strong. Her arms were being pulled behind her. She tried to scream Nadine’s name but couldn’t get the words out. Then it all went blank.

When she woke up she was in pain. Her body was arched forward, her legs were spread wide and tightly shackled to the wall. Her neck was secured to the ground by a solid tube. Her arms were pulled behind her back and locked above her at an angle that made the slightest movement very painful. There was a rubber ball gag in her mouth, her teeth were sinking into the tasteless rubber. Her breasts dangled below her, her nipples were clamped. There were objects inside her: a plug in her ass and something round and firm in her pussy.

She couldn’t see Nadine, but she was right there. Her wrists were shackled to her ankles and she was on her knees, her ankles were held in place by a spreader bar, her neck was locked to the floor, her mouth virtually kissing the ground. She was positioned under Casey, her upper back directly below Casey’s pussy.

“Lesbians,” said an unfamiliar voice, “who would have thought that the Pastor’s own daughter would enjoy the female form? He is devastated, you know, unable to make any decisions about the case involving the protestors. So I’ve had to take over and administer the treatment.

“This sodomite,” he said, poking Casey in the ribs, “her been here for close to ten months and she is yet to repent. She has managed to draw others into her filthy sphere. She likes everything that goes against nature. And she has turned this young woman into a lesbian.” He kneeled behind Nadine. He held up a vibrator and switched it on. The buzzing sound filled the room. He held it against Nadine’s anus and began to push it in. Nadine, who was also gagged, let out a muffled sound as the thick vibrator stretched her and moved inside her.

“Sodomy,” the man continued, “so wrong, yet so pleasurable to some.” Nadine struggled on the floor, unable to move much as the vibrator shook inside her. In spite of the discomfort, she was getting aroused. The man switched on the vibrator that had been resting inside Casey’s pussy. He then picked up a thick leather strap.

“You both say I love sodomy,” he said, landing the first of many blows on Casey’s butt and the back of her thighs. He then proceeded to whip Nadine all over her back. Both felt their skin burn. Yet the technique was so solid, their skin simply reddened but didn’t form any marks or welts. He whipped them mercilessly. Then he removed the wet vibrator from Casey’s pussy and drove it into her ass, tossing the butt plug aside.

“Sodomy,” he said, “is a wonderful punishment. Sodomites like you deserve to rot in the bowels of the earth. Why they wash you, I don’t know. Perhaps to keep you ready for a return to the surface. The dry box is where you should be. Forever. Sips of water and scraps of bread. Licked off the floor like an animal. Your hands forever locked behind you, you ankles weighed down. In a space so tiny that you cannot turn or stand or lie down. You crouch in the dark, just able to bend over to eat off the floor. Your body rots in the heat and the filth until all thoughts of sex, pleasure and sodomy are banished from your mind. It becomes all about survival. Your stomach growls from intense hinger, your throat parched from thirst. Your teeth decay from neglect, your hair matted, your body soaked in sweat and urine, your hardened poop deposited on the floor. That’s what you deserve. If the Pastor resigns and I take over the Church, that’s where you are headed. So think about it. You have a choice. Repent now or forever regret your decision.

Neither Nadine nor Casey could say anything as they were gagged. The Pastor would never resign. His ego was too big to allow that.

The man left the room. Casey pissed all over Nadine who was still struggling with the vibrator. She tried to force it out but to no avail. The man returned soon to put her out of her misery. He unlocked Nadine and took her away. Nadine was too exhausted and dazed to protest. Casey never saw her or the man again.

The Pastor, however, was back and his first order of business was to pull the chain that worked the pulley to which Casey’s arms were attached. She thought her arms were going to come out of their sockets. He removed her gag and shoved the vibrator from her ass into her mouth, “eat this sodomite,” he growled. Casey did as told, licking the vibrator as he held it in place, shoving it into her mouth, touching her throat. Casey tried hard not to gag on it. Satisfied, he threw it down and proceeded to strip to his underwear. Then, he picked up the strap and whipped her all over, wherever he could reach. His aim was good, he even got lashes onto her pussy lips. He lashed her stomach and breasts from below. When he lashed her legs, the lash wrapped around them, giving him more coverage. Casey screamed in pain until she passed out. The pastor, drenched with sweat, got a second wind and went at it with gusto. He pulled off his underwear and stood there, fully erect in spite of the exhaustion. He went ahead and rammed Casey’s pussy with his cock while she remained unconscious. He sprayed his cum all over her ass. He was eyeing her ass. “I’m not a sodomite,” he said, stepping back.

He turned on the hose and directed it at Casey’s face, waking her up. She couldn’t lift her head to look at him, thanks to the neck restraint.

“Well, Casey, you thought you had won this time, but you were wrong. I always win. Nadine is gone, off to be treated for her sins. She will come home soon. You are going nowhere. You have much to offer, unless you repent now,” he said.

“I’ll say what I always say,” Casey muttered.

The Pastor was quick. He shoved the gag into her mouth, stifling her this time around. He picked up the vibrator, shoved it into her ass, and switched it on. He left the room.

XXII

Casey looked up as she heard the steel plate slide and some light streamed in through the grate. She opened her mouth, expecting something to eat or drink. A trickle of water came through, poured from a cup. She let it splash into her mouth. She swallowed as the water came. She wanted more but the plate slid shut, locking her in darkness once again. She was on her knees, her head was almost touching the top of the compartment. Her head had been shaved again. Her hands were secured tightly behind her back, almost at the middle of her back. Her ankles had thick, heavy cuffs on them but no ankle-chain connecting them. She was hungry and tired. It was hard to sleep in this place. It was hot and stuffy.

She felt the urge to relieve herself. She managed to get into a squatting position, leaning against one wall, which she had designated as her “toilet wall”. She passed two or three hard balls of poop as they hit the ground below her. She moved away from the spot and took up refuge along the opposite wall.

When the steel plate opened again, a few pieces of dry bread and raw carrots came down. Casey leaned over and ate them off the floor.

XXIII

This time it wasn’t a dream. Casey was under a shower, the lukewarm water running all over her body. She scrubbed herself from head to toe with the fresh bar of soap. She used up almost half the soap in the process. The soapy water that flowed into the drain took with it weeks of dirt and grime that had fused to her skin, finding its way into every fold and nook. Her hair, still short, now felt smooth again. She stood under the shower until the water ran out, or somebody switched it off, which was the more likely outcome.

She grabbed the towel and dried herself. She wished there was a mirror in this bathroom. She hadn’t seen herself since she had been “convicted”. She wrapped the towel around her waist and walked over to the sink. There she brushed her teeth and rinsed with mouthwash. Feeling the cleanest in months, she stepped out of the bathroom and into the room where her former neighbor was waiting.

“You will wear this. And here is the paper and pen the Pastor asked me to give you. You will write your statement to the congregation. A confession and repentance, we hope for your sake. Think carefully about what you will say. I’ll be back in an hour to get you,” she said.

It was day 300 and after a few days in the underground box, Casey was informed that she was going to face the congregation and they would vote on her fate, based on her statement.

Casey pulled on the black gown, which was long-sleeve and buttoned to her neck and reached her feet. The cloth felt weird, she hadn’t worn clothes all this time. But today she had to. She sat down on the chair and stared at the paper and pen. She ate the banana and apple and drank half a jug of water. She stared some more. Finally she started to write.

XXIV

“The gathering shall come to order,” the Pastor roared into the microphone. He was seated on the stage, with two elders on either side of him. Casey took her seat on the other side of the stage. People sat down, glaring at her, whispering to each other. Casey ignored them.

“We have gathered today to decide, as a community, the fate of this poor woman, who, after 300 days in penance, has yet to repent. In fact, she has drawn immense pleasure from her punishment, to the point where a new course may be necessary to rehabilitate her,” the Pastor spoke.

“Today she will read her statement. She has been advised properly. After hearing her speak, the floor shall be opened to motions and there will be votes. You will use your clicker to cast a secret ballot. Casey, please read your statement.”

Casey got up and slowly walked over to the microphone. She looked at her paper and then at the audience. Some were shaking their heads. Others looked expressionless. Some were praying.

Casey took a few sips of water and a deep breath. She began, “I did what you all do. Except that I did it outside my house. You may not have curtains on your windows but you have covers on your bed. When the lights go out, do you not commit the same acts I am being persecuted for acting?”

Shouts of “whore”, “liar”, “slut”, “sodomite” rang out. The Pastor yelled into his microphone, “let her speak!”

Casey continued, “For the past 300 days I have been humiliated, degraded, tortured and worse. The Pastor himself has supervised my punishment, taking wanton pleasure and advantage of me, forcing his own daughter into a lesbian tryst with me.”

More chaos. The Pastor was turning red in the face.

“He and his cronies have routinely gained pleasure from my broken body. I have been held in tiny spaces, shackled, stretched at times, tasered and penetrated, fed scraps and so on. But I am not complaining. I am exposing the hypocrisy of this Church and this community. So I will not repent. I have no regrets. If you wish to make me suffer more, bring it on. I love sodomy and so do you.” Casey walked back to her seat and sat down.

Pandemonium broke out. Two men tried to rush the stage but the guards tackled them. Finally, the Pastor rose and calmed the gathering down.

“We have heard her speak. We have heard her lie. She should consider herself lucky that she is still a part of this community. Is there a motion of any sort from the floor?”

A burly man in his 40s rose, “I move that this whore be punished twice as severely as before!”

Screams of “second!” rang out.

“Please vote,” said the Pastor. Everyone picked up their clickers and voted.

“Results please,” ordered the Pastor. The results flashed on the screen, “86% Yes 14% No”. The crowd cheered and chanted “Praise the Lord!” and “Sodomites will repent or die!”

Casey sat still in her chair. The two women who had been in charge of her for most of the past 300 days walked up to her and took her away. Once in the basement, the took the black gown from her and pushed her into the concrete cell where she sat on the concrete bunk, hands clasped and head bowed, tears streaming down her face.

The speakers were on. She could here the service. The Pastor ranted about her and those who voted no, “the Lord knows who you are!”

Then the debate about her punishment began. The speakers went silent.

Casey curled up on the bunk, clasping her knees, and sobbed. She cried herself to sleep. When she woke up, she found the Pastor sitting outside the bars of her cell. She got up and rubbed her tear-streaked face. “What now?” she asked him, sitting up, holding the edge of the bunk and leaning forward, her breasts sagging in front of her.

“We had a healthy discussion about your future. There were many motions, many votes. I will read the final motion to you,” he said, sounding hoarse.

“Casey must bear the burdens of her sin. She must toil like never before, day and night. She must feel the hot sun and the crack of the whip. She must be fed peels and scraps but given lots of water. Her labor will end when she repents. Should 300 more days pass and she hasn’t repented, we will revisit this case.”

“And this was the original motion,” said the Pastor.

“Casey must bear the burdens of her sin. She must toil like never before. She must feel the hot sun and the crack of the whip. She must be fed only bread and water. Her labor will end when she repents. Should 100 more days pass and she hasn’t repented, we will revisit this case.”

“So where am I going?” Casey asked. The thought of being outdoors sounded appealing but she could already picture herself on a farm, trudging through mud and manure, filthy and hungry.

“There is a plantation a hundred miles south of here. It’s within our jurisdiction. The owners attend a sister Church and are familiar with your kind. It turns out you’ll have company there. They’ve got two lesbians toiling there. I’ve been there. They treat their slaves better than they should. We will take you there tomorrow, early in the morning. Once there you will be put to work. Let’s see how long you last!” He got up and walked away. Casey could see him talking to the two women at the end of the hall. She got up and went over to the hole and squatted. She peed a river into the hole. She grabbed her water bottle and poured some water into her hand. She rubbed it on her pussy, washing off the pee drops. She figured since she had been allowed to shower that day, why not stay as clean as possible for as long as possible.

XXV

Casey paused to catch her breath. She straightened her back and looked ahead. She could see the warehouses in the distance. The heat was brutal. The sun was right above her. She felt like she was being cooked. Her skin was bronzed from the constant exposure. She was sticky all over thanks to the mist they sprayed on her each morning, to prevent sunburn or worse. By now she was covered in dirt as well.

She was thirsty and hungry. The bridle in her mouth was fixed tightly. There was a thick steel collar with a bell around her neck. There was a chain around her waist and at the back there was another chain attached that linked her to the cart she was pulling. Her hands were in fists and stuffed into mitts. They were also cuffed with a foot long chain. There were pads around her knees and an ankle chain connected her ankles.

She had been this way since four in the morning. At night, only the bridle and knee pads came off and her hands were allowed out of the mitts. She remained shackled nonetheless.

Now it was close to noon. Casey got back on all fours and began to pull the heavy cart. They always threw in some rocks below the morning’s harvest, or whatever else she had to cart across the huge plantation, all day, every day, without complaint. Her breasts dangled below her as she moved slowly. The bell jingled as well. Sweat poured into her eyes, stinging them as she moved closer to her destination. When she finally got there, she collapsed onto the ground, exhausted. The cart was emptied and her bridle was removed. She sat up and the naked woman who had just unloaded the cart unstrapped her mitts and freed her hands. She placed a jug of water on the ground, along with a bowl of scraps: carrot peels, bread ends, a piece of celery and a half-eaten banana. Casey muttered thanks and proceeded to guzzle the water and eat her food. The woman began loading the cart with some empty sacks. “Take these to the house when you’re done eating,” she said, wiping her brow. Casey looked at her and nodded, nibbling on the banana. The woman was tall and chubby. She wasn’t all that hairy, in fact, she had no bush to speak of and her underarm merely had a few curls, unlike Casey.

Casey finished eating and asked for more water. The woman obliged. Casey splashed the last bit onto her eyes, washing the sweat and dirt out. Then she presented her hands and they were secured in the mitts again. She thanked the woman and returned to work, slowly crawling away, pulling a slightly lighter cart behind her. Along the way she stopped and squatted to empty her bladder. Then she resumed.

By nightfall, Casey was exhausted and sore everywhere. She looked forward to the few hours of sleep she would be getting before it all would start over again at four in the morning.

Waiting for her in her stall would be a trough of water and a trough of raw oats with some potato and carrot peels mixed in. Her stall was narrow, maybe three feet wide at the most, and six feet long. The door didn’t reach the floor of the ceiling. There was a pile of hay on the floor she could lay on. Her waist-chain, which was connected to the cart during the day, was now attached to the wall, limiting her movements even within that tiny space.

At the end of the day she would be desperate for a wash. On some days they would pour a bucket of water over her. But today wasn’t such a day.

She trudged into her stall. The man escorting her then gave her a cup of mouthwash. She rinsed her mouth and spit the stuff back into the cup. He secured her to the wall and left, locking the stall. The light was still on. Casey reached over to the trough of water and picked it up, drinking most of the water, before proceeding to eat her “dinner”. Then she curled up on the hay and fell asleep. The light burned all night but she was used to sleeping with it on.

When it was time to get up, the stall door opened and water was hosed into the through. Casey crawled over and drank the water while the woman from the warehouse, looking very groggy herself unhooked the chain from the wall and escorted Casey out into the early morning breeze. Casey was mitted and bridled for the morning run. She listened to the instructions, and crawled away, pulling the empty cart behind her.

Sometimes she hauled useful things back and forth. At other times, it was just rocks. Along the way, whenever nature called, she’d stop and squat. If it was poop time she’d pull herself close to a tree and pass some hard balls and then move on.

In some ways it was nice being outside, especially in the early morning. Casey hadn’t seen the sun or the moon in nearly 10 months but her euphoria at seeing the sun rise each morning quickly evaporated when she got sprayed around 8 with the sticky mist.

She received breakfast around 6, after two hours of toiling. It was nothing more than hard balls of grits and a jug of water. A special powder was mixed into the grits which provided her with all the necessary nutrients and vitamins to keep her healthy. She needed all the strength she could get.

The rules were simple, keep moving.

XXVI

Casey was counting the days. Eighteen so far. Each evening she was asked if she was ready to repent. She’d say nothing.

Then the Pastor paid a visit.

At first, he said nothing when he saw her hauling the cart on all fours, bell jingling along the way. He stood on the porch with the owner of the plantation who said to him, “stubborn one, this whore. Won’t repent.”

The Pastor replied, “I tried for 300 days. Nothing got her to crack. Have you tried anything new yet?”

“No. I tend to withhold her hosedown and on some days toss a bucket of water on her. I didn’t do that last night.”

“Where are the lesbians?”

“The fat one stocks the warehouse on the west end, the other one is digging irrigation ditches at the north end. Why do you ask?”

“Has the digger made her acquaintance?”

“Not yet. I haven’t had her go out that far yet.”

“You have to get creative. That’s why I sent her here. Catch her in some illegal behavior and make her pay dearly. This mundane stuff isn’t going to work. Have you whipped her yet?”

“Hasn’t been necessary.”

“Make it necessary.” The Pastor, clearly displeased, went inside the house. The owner stood on the porch and stared at Casey. He pulled out his Blackberry and pressed 1. A voice crackled on the other end, “Yes?”

“What’s the status of the digging dyke?” the owner asked.

“Doing her thing. Nothing out of the ordinary,” came the reply.

“I’m sending a cart over. It’s time to transport the earth and rocks off the property.”

“Roger that. What should I look out for?”

“The sodomy chick, on all fours. Out.”

The owner walked over to Casey. “After you deposit this load I want you to pull the cart to the North end of the plantation. Further instructions will follow once you get there. Stop by the porch for water before you go.”

Casey did as she was ordered and after quenching her thirst she began the two mile crawl to the North end. She stopped several times along the way. It took her nearly two hours to get there. When she finally arrived she collapsed onto the ground, exhausted. The overseer decided to give her a few minutes as he watched from his perch atop a tree branch. Twenty minutes later, Casey slowly got up. He came down and offered her water, removing her bridle, “Master said you’d be coming,” he said with a smile. Just then his Blackberry beeped. He looked at it. It was a message from the house.

The overseer looked at Casey and ordered her to go towards the edge of the ditch. Casey obliged. When she got to the clearing she saw the poorly dug ditch that was several feet long but not very deep. Piles of earth lay on either side and in the distance she could see a slim, naked woman, shackled and dirt-covered, walking towards her with a shovel. She figured it was the other lesbian. She didn’t make eye contact as the woman filled her cart with as much earth as it could hold, compacting it with her hands and piling on more. Finally, she stopped adding to the cart and walked away. Casey slowly crawled away, with bits of earth falling out of the cart as she made her way over the uneven ground. She slowly crawled back to the house, stopping just once to pee. Waiting on the steps of the porch was the Pastor.

“Nice to see you again, Casey,” he said, walking over to the cart. He looked at his Blackberry and again at the cart. “It looks as though you lost a bit of your load along the way.”

Casey couldn’t speak because of the bridle. She knew the Pastor was going to stir trouble for her. She knelt on the ground as he unhooked the cart from her.

“On all fours,” he ordered her. Casey did as she was told. Off came his belt and down rained the blows on her back and butt. One lash after another followed in the searing afternoon heat. Casey whimpered. Tears dropped from her eyes onto the ground below as the Pastor relentlessly flogged her with his belt. Then, as she had expected, her dropped his pants and entered her sweat, piss and dirt-covered pussy, from behind as she remained on all fours. He didn’t last very long, pulling himself out just as he was about to climax and squirted all over along her butt crack. “My kind of sodomy,” he said, pulling his pants up and walking away. Then he suddenly came back and tipped the cart so that the load of loose earth, dirt and gravel fell over Casey, almost burying her as she scurried away in a cloud of dust.

XXVII

Casey had never been this filthy before. She was caked in dirt and mud and her own sweat, all mixed in with the mist. She was making multiple, timed runs to and from the irrigation ditch, as many as eight per day, from dawn until dusk, and at the end of it all, she was too exhausted to do anything but crash on the floor of her stall. She drank as much water as she could and ate whatever they put before her. But no one was hosing her down or throwing a bucket at her. Her hands were the cleanest part of her body as they were in mitts all day. But the constant fist holding brought on painful cramps. Her knees and back were sore as ever. Her arms hurt. Every part of her hurt.

A week had past since the Pastor’s visit. Once again, per his orders, she was asked at the end of the day if she had anything to say. She said nothing. Not this day. Or the next. Or the next.

She got up in the morning and drank whatever water remained in the trough. She slowly stood up, stretching her legs and arms. She scraped some of the dried up muck off her body.

The stall door opened and she was led out. Once out in the yard she was fitted for the day, after getting a drink of water. Then off she went towards the irrigation ditch. When she got there the lesbian was asleep by the ditch, her shovel by her side. She was cleaner than Casey, but only by so much. Her legs were caked with dirt. Casey shook her head, ringing her bell to make her presence known. The woman slowly got up. Casey crawled over to her. The woman stroked Casey’s face and smiled. It was the most compassion anyone had shown her. Casey’s eyes teared up. The woman shoveled the dug up earth into the cart. She then unbuckled the bridle from Casey’s mouth and offered her water. Casey gladly drank it all.

“How long have you been at this?” Casey asked her in a whisper.

“Almost a year,” came the reply, “I’ve been right here the entire time. I sleep here. I eat here.”

“Do you miss your partner?”

“Yes I do,” she said, her voice choking up, “I know she’s at the other end of the plantation but I haven’t seen her. Have you?”

“Yes I have. She looks well. I’m sure you’ll be together again.”

“Thanks for the kind words but I doubt it.”

“They leave you here alone at night?”

“Yeah, where will I go? There’s the guy who hangs out during the day and whips me at any pretense. Fucks me for good measure as well. I don’t know what he sees in me. I’m tired and dirty,” she squatted a few feet from Casey and continued, “and loathe men.” She began to pee onto the ground. Casey watched. The woman continued, “ever been with a woman?”

“Yes,” said Casey, “one of the reasons I’m here. I spent 300 days in the church cellar and I refused to repent.”

“I love sodomy,” the woman said with a smile, a final two squirts of pee coming out of her. She stood up and walked over to Casey. She looked down at her and said, “come, give me a quick lick.”

Casey looked at her and said, “what if they catch us?”

“No one’s coming for another hour. Now come,” she went on all fours and moved towards Casey, her butt close to Casey’s face. Casey brought her mouth to her dark wet curls and flicked her tongue, tasting fresh drops of piss. She moved in closer and tighter and began to find the pussy lips behind the tangled mass of hair. “Nice,” the woman said, “very nice.” Casey kept licking and probing with her tongue. The woman moaned softly and then shuddered. Her juices gushed and covered Casey’s lips. She crawled away and turned, “thanks. You’re good. Let me see what you’ve got. Sit on your butt and pull your legs up.” Casey did as she was told. She pulled her knees to her chest and spread her legs as far as the ankle chain would allow. The woman saw Casey’s tangled pussy hair and went down on her, licking past the sweat and dirt that and finding her clit. Casey moaned as the woman licked her vigorously.

“The early bird catches the worm,” said a stern voice. The overseer was here. Earlier than usual. The woman sprung up and scurried away. Casey, barely catching her breath, got on all fours and was ready to crawl away with her load when the man pushed her to the ground with the flat of his boots against her ribs. He pinned her down and punched something into his Blackberry. He waited for a response. It came. He took his foot off Casey’s ribcage and walked over to the lesbian. He pulled her by her collar chain and dragged her over to Casey. “On your knees! Both of you! Face each other!” he barked.

The roar of an ATV got louder. The owner arrived with a sack. He threw the sack down and the loud clanging of steel filled the morning air. Dawn was breaking in the distance as the two men towered over the hapless slaves.

“Repent now or face the consequences,” said the owner of the plantation. Casey was terrified but she remained silent. The other woman was trembling but she was defiant as well.

“Very well. Productivity be damned. We are about to put you through such torment that you will regret ever having come to this earth.” He pulled the two up by their collars. He unhooked Casey from the cart. “You are toiling in God’s name and you practice your sins on my property?”

The two had their hands locked tightly behind their backs. Then they were secured to tree limbs by pulleys that were already in place. Their arms were pulled behind them. They were hunched forward. It was painful. Neither screamed.

The overseer held a plastic jug between Casey’s legs, “piss now.” Casey obliged. She would’ve gone anyway if he hadn’t asked her to. She filled half the jug. He walked over to the lesbian and held the jug up to her face. “Drink it all,” he said with a sneer. She looked him in the eye and opened her mouth. She guzzled it down without complaint. “She tastes good,” she said. He slapped her and walked away.

For the rest of that day it was a game for the overseer. He plied the two with water initially and made them drink each others piss, jug after jug. By nightfall, he had had enough. He released their arms and shackled them together, with Casey’s face in the lesbian’s crotch and vice versa. They lay on their sides, faces resting on the other person’s inner thigh, breathing the heavy aroma of each other’s pussy. They got to licking one another. Many orgasms followed, along with gushes of piss that they drank.

XXVIII

After a sleepless and pleasurable night, the two found themselves hanging from the tree, still face to crotch and on their sides. As they dangled, the whip fell on them, with the lesbian bearing the brunt as she was closer to the overseer until he walked around and focused on Casey. By mid-morning he was bored so the owner took over. With each lash their faces buried deeper into the other’s crotch, heightening the sensation and making them wonder if this was really meant to be their punishment.

Finally when they were brought down and freed form each other, they found themselves staring at the Pastor.

“Trust Casey to mess things up,” he said, grabbing her by the collar and hauling her to her feet, “true piece of filth. You look it and smell it now. It used to be just the mind and soul. Now it’s the body as well.”

He turned to the overseer and the plantation owner and said, “see to it that these two are confined as tightly as possible. Find an appropriate space, or make one. Forget details like holes and such.”

It didn’t take long for them to figure something out. The two were placed in a tiny underground hatch, squatting with their butts off the ground and knees pulled close to their chests with their tits placed between them. Their hands were secured behind their backs and then to each other. Their collars were locked together so that the backs of their heads touched. Their ankles were held in place with short steel bars. A double-bridle was used to gag them together.

There was a hole below them, about a few inches deep and wide. Plastic bowls were places under their pussies to catch their piss.

Once they were secured tightly, the hatch was closed and the two were left in darkness.

The hatch was opened three times a day. They were made to stand up. The bridle was released and a grit ball was placed in their mouths. Then the piss bowl was emptied into their mouths and they were given some water to wash it all down.

For seven days they remained in the hatch, unable to move or do anything in the dark except squirm and relieve themselves. When they were finally pulled out, they couldn’t move, even though their shackles had been removed. Slowly they rose to their knees.

Casey was shackled to two trees, legs spread, arms stretched above her. She remained there for the night, in a daze. A torrential downpour washed away some of the filth from her body, leaving her soaking wet and muddy.

At dawn several lashes rained down on her body. Chunks of dirt and soft mud went flying off her skin as she screamed out in agony.

By mid-morning the rains returned and it poured for three days straight. Casey remained out in the humid air as the rain lashed her body constantly, washing away all the dirt and also giving her enough to drink as she’d pull her head back and lap up the rainwater. Once a day she got a visit and her mouth was stuffed with soggy grits.

When the rain finally stopped, the sun beat down hard on her, drying her in an instant.

XXIX

The Pastor was getting increasingly irritated. The doctor was asking too many questions.

“I can’t declare her insane. She isn’t. And the things you are asking me to do… has the Church voted on this matter?”

“I am the Church!” the Pastor yelled back, slamming his hand on his desk.

The doctor was unfazed, “From your account, you have tried everything and she still won’t repent. She’s still sexually charged.”

“That’s right. I even tasered her down there and that didn’t work.”

“Then I doubt anything will.”

“Can’t you trip her up on some drugs that’ll make her say things she doesn’t mean? Perhaps we can get a repentance out of her, or even better, they’ll mess up her mind enough to get her declared insane.”

“What do you have against this woman?”

“She’s a cancer on our community. She’s inspired too many people. 14% voted to free her at the last Church debate. That’s way too many people who see her as a positive example.”

“Well, in a free society,” began the doctor when the Pastor cut him off, “we’re as free as God allows and there is no room for sodomy in this society!”

“Very well,” said the doctor, getting up, “I’ll do what I can. Where is she?”

“In her cell, sleeping.”

XXX

Casey opened her eyes. The lights were very bright. She squeezed her eyes shut. She was lying on something soft. She slowly opened her eyes but couldn’t turn or lift her head. She felt warm. She tried to lift her arms but they were strapped down. She glanced over and saw IV lines in each arm. She felt like parts of her body were being pinched. There were clamps on her nipples. She saw her feet resting in stirrups, her legs were spread wide. The surface she was lying on ended at her lower back, leaving her butt free.

She could smell a disinfectant soap on her skin. She had no recollection of how she ended up here. Did she fall sick? Did she get hurt? The last thing she remembered was being driven back to the Church and thrown into her old concrete cell. She must’ve been there for a couple of days, she figured.

There was something in her butt, something long and probing. She wanted to push it out. She wanted to call out for someone but she couldn’t. A ball gag kept her mouth sealed.

Just then she heard a humming sound and a tingle ran through her body, followed by jolts that made her groan in pain. A cold sweat broke out all over her body as the tingling sensation increased. Jolts of current hit her randomly: her ear lobes, her fingers, her nipples, her pussy, her toes, her asshole. She passed out. Pee streamed out of her into the receptacle on the ground.

When she came to her throat was parched. She moaned softly. She heard a voice, “this won’t hurt.” The gag was removed and water was dripped into her mouth from a wet cloth. “More, please,” she begged softly. A needle went into her thigh and she fell asleep.

XXXI

“How is she?” the Pastor asked, standing at the doorway.

“Mellow. She took a few steps yesterday. No questions. No resistance. Definitely no repentance since that’s what you care about,” said the doctor.

“How much longer? Has her sexual urge been diminished?”

“Hard to tell. She’s medicated now.”

“I’ll take her back to the cellar.”

“Not yet. I need a few more days with her.”

“Change of plans. I need to test her now.”

“Fine. Don’t ask me for any favors again,” the doctor said. He paged his nurse and told her to prepare Casey for discharge and transport.

Three hours later, Casey found herself back in her concrete cell, exhausted and hungry. A plate of food was left next to her. She fell asleep. She woke up several hours later and ate. She drank water and sat up. She rubbed the parts of her arms and legs that had been restrained with belts. She looked at the needle marks in her arms. She took some water in her hands and splashed it onto her face. She stood up and staggered to the bars and leaned against them, looking out. She saw no one. She stood there for a while and lay back down and closed her eyes. She thought about the recent events, how nice it was to get close to that lesbian ditch-digger. What followed was sheer hell but the few moments of closely, followed by the initial punishment, made it worthwhile. But now what? Part of her wanted to go back to the plantation and be the beast of burden again. It was certainly better than being at the mercy of the Pastor in this cellar. Part of her wanted to repent and get this over with. But then what? Where would she go? She’d have to leave the community any way. Maybe the Pastor will cut her a deal. Let her go without repentance. But at what price?

Just then the Pastor showed up. “I see you’ve eaten,” he said, pulling a chair up to the bars. Casey lay on her side and looked at him.

“Make love to me Pastor. Do everything to me that you tell others not to do. My ass is ready for you. You want to sodomize me. I know it. I’ve felt it from day one,” Casey said.

“Stupid doctor never gets it right,” the Pastor muttered.

“Why? Did you want me lobotomized and put in a padded cell? Did you wish to see me in a diaper and straight-jacket, eating out of a straw, staring into space all day and night? What fun would that be? Fuck me now and maybe I’ll tell you what you want to hear.”

“We picked up two men who were involved in your sodomy ring. They asked about you. They were cruising our streets for hookups. We told them we had a special surprise for them. They seem to have no respect for you. None whatsoever. They refer to you as a whore. Apparently you have quite a reputation in that circle. We cut a deal with them. And you’re part of it.

“You will be transferred to a residence. There you will be greeted by the two men and six of their fellow perverts. Eight men. All eagerly waiting for you. Eight men. And you. There will be plenty to eat and drink. But it will cost you. Eight men. And you,” the Pastor got up and walked away. Casey sat up and drew her knees close to her chest and place her head between them. She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes.

XXXII

Casey’s head was spinning. This was all too much to comprehend. She was in a tiny closet. There was nothing but four walls and a light. She stared at the piece of paper that was taped to the wall.

Price List

Glass of water                Two blowjobs

Meal                        Two anals

Permission to pee        Three regular fucks plus two other

Permission to poop        Two anals

Permission to rest        Four regular fucks plus two other

Permission to wash        At discretion of owners

XXXIII

Soaked in cum and piss, Casey begged them to stop. All eight had been at it with her for hours. Her body ached. Her pussy and ass throbbed. Her jaw hurt. When she asked for water she got pissed on. The orgy was out of control. She was triple-stuffed every time. They had so much energy. It started after lunch and now it was close to midnight. They were in the basement, tormenting her on the hard concrete floor. They were making her lick the floor clean. She was on her hands and knees, slurping her piss off the floor while one of the men smacked her butt repeatedly with a belt. Then someone else climbed onto her and began pushing his hard cock into her asshole again. Casey muttered something and simply gave in.

By the time they called it a night Casey was a wreck. She lay curled up on the dirty floor, wet and sticky all over. When morning came, she was still asleep on the floor. She was woken up by a blast of cold water. One of the men had come down and turned the hose on her to wake her up and clean her off.

“Another day, another session,” he said, unzipping his pants. Casey began to backtrack towards the wall.

“Not today, please. I need a break,” she begged, bumping against the wall.

“A break? Not a chance,” said the man, closing in on her, his fully erect cock freed from his pants. Casey tried to dodge him and run off but he grabbed her. “Playing hard to get?” he asked her, grabbing her by the arms and pushing her against the wall. He pulled her up and grabbed her by the legs and entered her. She let out a half-moan, half-scream.

“See you like it rough as well,” said the man, thrusting into her and moving with a purpose, “the early bird catches the worm. The cleanest you’ll be for a while.”

After he finished and walked away, Casey slid down the wall and crouched in the corner, cum dripping from her pussy. She peed right there, washing the cum out in the process.

He returned a half an hour later. Casey was still in the corner, unsure of what was coming. She had only been here for three days but it felt like an eternity. Her stomach was growling. She hadn’t eaten anything proper since the previous morning. But he brought her food.

He set the plate of raw carrots, celery and a peeled banana in front of her. “Eat up. You have a busy day ahead of you.” He also left a bottle of water with her. Casey was gracious. She thanked him and proceeded to eat.

“I’ll unlock the washroom for you. Be sure to brush your teeth,” he said, on his way towards the stairs.  Casey finished eating and went into the washroom. It only had a bucket which she was supposed to use as a toilet but only got to use in on the second morning to poop. She crouched over the bucket and went, straining to pass a few hard balls. She walked over to the sink and washed her pussy and ass with the cold water. Then she washed her hands with a sliver of soap and brushed her teeth. Feeling a little cleaner she stepped out of the washroom and saw the eight men, all dressed, in the basement. Two of them were arranging chairs in a circle. But there were nine chairs.

All of them were wearing numbers. The man who seemed to be in charge, her morning visitor, was wearing “1”. He looked at Casey and said, “today we will play a game. Match the cock with the number. You have tasted us all. So today we will test your memory and senses. You will be blindfolded. Your hands will be tied behind your back. You will blow each of us and after you finish swallowing you will call out the number. We won’t say if you are correct or wrong. We will write it down. You will then get a drink of water. After you have gone around the circle, we will announce the results.

“If you make a mistake, the gentleman you have misidentified will determine your punishment. If you make more than three mistakes, a collective punishment will be administered. If you get all of them wrong, then you’ll be truly sorry.”

Number 4 walked up to Casey and blindfolded her while number 7 tied her hands behind her back. Somebody offered her water. She drank it.

“Gentlemen, please take your seats and open your flies. This should be fun,” Number 1 announced.

Loud music started to play, with the goal of drowning out any moans from the men. Casey went down on the first one, licking and sucking furiously as he came within a minute. She licked his limp dick and announced, “Number 3.” She drank a cup of water and moved on to the next guy.

She thought she had counted correctly, but there seemed to be a ninth person in the mix. She was confused and didn’t know what to say. “Number 9?” she asked quizzically as she stood up.

Her bladder full from all the water she was given, her mouth sore from all the sucking, Casey gasped for air as she stood in the center of the circle. Her blindfold was removed. She looked around. There were eight of them and an empty chair. Did she blow someone twice? Did someone show up after she was blindfolded and leave right after she blew him? Casey felt very strange.

“The results,” said Number 1, “are very disappointing. Casey correctly identified two.” The men laughed and snickered. “I guess you don’t know us as well as you should,” Number 4 said, rubbing his crotch. Tears welled up in Casey’s eyes. “Please don’t hurt me,” she begged, falling to her knees.

“We’ll never hurt you,” said Number 7, “quite the contrary. We’re going to have more fun with you.”

“Let’s take the party outside. It stopped raining this morning,” said Number 1, grabbing Casey by the arm and leading her up the stairs and out of the house into the back yard. They walked on the wet grass until they came to a muddy path. The men followed them, all in boots, while Casey walked in ankle-deep mud. Finally they came to a halt. There were two trees with shackles attached. Casey’s arms were freed and then she was shackled to the two trees, legs and arms spread. The men were all making mud pies with their bare hands. One after the other they began hurling them at Casey, splattering her from head to toe with mud. The cold mud hit her with a jolt each time. She closed her eyes and mouth and bore the humiliation. After they had covered her front, they went around to her back and splattered her all over.

“The sun will dry it all out,” said Number 3, as the men trudged away, leaving Casey behind. She let out a deep breath and emptied her bladder onto the ground.

XXXIV

The hot sun did dry all the mud. Number 1 paid her a visit and gave her water. He then released her from the shackles and led her back to the house. They went into the basement. The other men were once again there. No one was sitting. A mud-caked Casey knew what was coming as the chairs were still arranged.

She was blindfolded and her hands were tied once again. “A second chance,” said Number 1, pushing her towards one of the now-seated men.

Casey went through the ordeal once again, identifying her man each time as Number 1 kept track. Again, she counted nine. But when her blindfold was opened, there were eight.

“You must be hallucinating. You’d rather suck nine cocks than eight,” said Number 4, “so how did our whore do this time?”

“Well, what do you know. All wrong,” said Number 1, “you’ll get one more chance. This time, no swallowing. We will cum on you, add some texture to the mud.”

“I have to pee badly,” Casey begged. A bucket was pushed towards her. She crouched over it and relieved herself. She stood up when she finished. The bucket was pushed aside. She was blindfolded once again. The men got up and switched seats. “Go!” came the order.

Each time she got her man close, he pulled out and sprayed her tits and stomach with his cum. By the time she had, once again, sucked off all nine, she was covered in their cum. Two of them had cum in her hair, one even chose her armpits, caking her pit hair with cum.

The blindfold was removed. There were eight men again. “You’re playing with me,” Casey screamed, “who’s hiding? The Pastor? Why doesn’t he just fuck my ass and get it over with? I love sodomy! So does the Pastor!”

“Three correctly identified this time,” came the verdict. Each man got up and peed into the bucket. By the time the last one peed, the bucket was full and heavy.

“OK slut. Carry this bucket up the stairs and out of the house. If you spill a drop, you will lick it off the floor. If you tip the bucket over, well, you know what will happen then,” Number 8 ordered her.

Casey lifted the heavy metal bucket and crouching over, slowly walked to the stairs and began climbing. She set the bucket down with each step, the contents sloshing around but not spilling. She made it to the top of the stairs and out of breath, paused.

“What are you waiting for? Take it outside!” said Number 8, who was right behind her. Casey slowly lifted it again and headed out of the house and down the porch steps. Miraculously, she was yet to spill a drop.

“Whore’s got her strength. We like that,” said Number 2, “go set the bucket in the center of the yard.” Casey did as she was told.

“Now crouch next to it, feet apart, hands grabbing your knees,” said Number 4, walking towards her. Casey went down. “Look straight ahead.” He picked up the bucket and held it over her head.

He then tilted it and it rained piss all over Casey as he emptied the bucket on her while the men laughed and cheered.

“Piss off, you whore!” he said, as the rest began to chant “whore” repeatedly in unison.

XXXV

Casey was happy to have been allowed to wash all the filth off. She was back in her closet, curled up on the floor in the tiny space, trying to sleep. Her stomach growled again. The men hadn’t shown much interest in a few hours. The last she saw them together was when she was soaking in everyone’s piss in the backyard. Now it was evening and she lay in the dark closet, without a clue as to what was on their agenda.

She heard footsteps. The door opened. She sat up. Number 7 put a bowl of peels and bread scraps floating in water on the floor. Casey muttered thanks and began to eat and drink. Even scraps and peels tasted good to her. Better than cum, of course. Before closing the door and leaving her in darkness he refilled the bowl with more water and said, “rest up. Big day tomorrow.” He closed the door. Casey drank the remaining water and curled up on the floor. She closed her eyes. She was asleep in an instant.

She woke up thirsty. The bowl was empty but she also had to pee. Left with no choice, she peed into the bowl and drank the warm liquid. She was surprised as to how she didn’t mind the taste of piss any more. For the most part it was quite clear given how much liquid she consumed each day. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and lay down again.

She finally woke up and there was still silence outside. She could see some sunlight streaming into the basement through the crack under her door. She stood up and stretched. She peed and quenched her thirst again.

Then she heard footsteps. The door opened and she was handed a banana. Water was poured into her bowl and a piece of bread was tossed into it. Number 1 didn’t say anything as he closed the door again. Casey ate and waited. No sign of anyone for a while. Can’t be good, she thought. Had they been given new instructions? She was hoping they’d let her out to go to the washroom. She really didn’t want to poop in the closet. But she had no choice. She dropped a few hard ones onto the floor in the corner.

When Number 1 returned it was just to fill her bowl and toss two pieces of bread into it. Again, he left without saying anything. But this time he turned the light on in the closet.

For six days Casey remained in the closet. The same cycle repeated itself. Three visits with food and water. Rest of the time she pissed into the bowl and drank it. Her poop piled in the corner of the closet. She had experienced worse conditions before. This was far more comfortable than the dry box or the hatch or the hole in the church cellar.

When she was finally allowed out she was sent to the washroom to brush her teeth and freshen up. She cleaned herself as best as she could with water from the sink. When she emerged, the Pastor was waiting for her in the basement. On the floor, next to him, were restraints and shackles. A whip lay on the chair in the corner.

“Pastor. Bet you’re back for more,” said Casey.

“Are you ready to repent?” he asked firmly, “the men have no use for you. You have disgusted them. Even perverts like them can get disgusted. See what you do to people?”

“I love sodomy and so do you,” said Casey.

“I thought you’d say that so I’ve come prepared.” He opened a bag and pulled out a footlong dildo that was two inches wide. Casey winced at the sight of it. He walked up to her and took her by the hand. A brief struggle ensued as Casey fought a futile battle to wiggle free but he was good. He had her shackled, gagged and secured in an instant. With her legs spread, her arms secured behind her back, her body hunched forward and a heavy collar with a weight fixed to her neck, the Pastor had her in prime position. He brought the dildo close to her anus and rubbed the opening. Casey tightened up. He squirted some lubricant onto the dildo and began to push it in. It glided in, stretching her to the limit. He moved it slowly but couldn’t resist jabbing her a few times along the way. Once he was convinced that it wouldn’t go any further, he pulled clips with leads out of the bag. He clipped them to her nipples and her pussy lips, trying to get the hair out of the way. He also plugged a lead into the back of the dildo. Casey was sweating and writhing but she could barely move. The dildo was the biggest she had ever encountered and it was well-seated in her butt now. The clips and leads were scaring her. He pushed a metal probe into her surprisingly wet pussy. That was long and wide as well and it went deep. He plugged a lead into it as well.

“Come on down boys,” he called the men. They all came down and took their seats.

“Sodomy. It’s never to be condoned. One can punish a sodomite with more sodomy. An eye for an eye, you might say. Today our famous sodomite whore stands before us, under my control, with eight witnesses. Once I am finished with her, she will have banished all sexual thoughts from her mind and she will be begging for mercy. She will repent today.”

He flipped a switch. Casey’s body jerked and then a tingling sensation ran through her body. Almost like pins and needles but a little more intense. The two dildos were vibrating but also stinging her.

Then a searing jolt flowed through her breasts. She bit down hard on the gag, close tom passing out. Sweat dripped off her brow onto the floor. Pee flowed out of her onto the floor. Two jolts hit her pussy and one flowed through her ass. She passed out in agony. The Pastor dialed back the juice until she came to. Her whole body was numb with pain. He was sitting in front of her, looking her in the eye, holding the control panel in his hand. The men watched in silence.

“Ready to repent?” he asked Casey. She gave him a piercing stare that he took as a no. “Very well,” he turned two of the dials and Casey cringed. Her pussy felt like it was on fire. She felt hot, flushed, her back hurt. Her nipples were throbbing. She was losing sensation in her arms. She could barely feel the dildo in her ass until it jolted her again.

He removed her gag after she passed out for the third time. He pulled the dildo out of her ass and set it down on the floor. He took his seat once again.

When she came to she could barely speak. She moaned softly, opening and closing her eyes.

“Well, what are you going to say this time?” he asked her. She said nothing. Rather, she couldn’t say anything.

“Almost a year has now passed. You have shown remarkable resilience and stubbornness. You had so many chances to redeem yourself and rejoin society. Yet you chose this path.

“You body is broken. You are nothing more than skin and bones. Your once lustrous head of hair has been replaced with a dry crop. You have hair all over your body. The hair between your legs is proof of your filthy existence. It’s tangled and knotted. You have hair in your armpits as well. Also tangled and knotted.

“You’ve declined many of our offers. You’ve chosen to play in the mud, coexist with your waste. If we set you free will you even be able to take care of yourself? Wear clothes? Bathe daily? Use a toilet? Or will you choose to live in the wild? Like an animal?

“Here’s yet another chance. Please take it this time. Repent now or never.”

Casey took a deep breath and said, “if I repent what guarantee do I have that you won’t hand me back to these men? Do you have clothes waiting for me? I don’t see anything.”

“Do as you’re told.”

Casey remained quiet for a moment and then looked the Pastor in the eye, “I love sodomy and so do you.”

The Pastor quietly got up and gagged her again. He went behind her and dropped his pants. He entered her ass which was now very accommodating. After he finished he asked the men to follow. Nine anals later, Casey was left in the same position, cum dripping out of her ass and onto the floor, while the juice continued to tingle through her body.

XXXVI

Casey had no memory of when it all ended. She lay on the floor of her closet, her ass and pussy sticky and sore. Her nipples very tender. Her arms still hurt from the uncomfortable restraints and her jaw was aching thanks to the gag. She had peed at some point for the ground was wet below her. She couldn’t muster the strength to sit up. She looked towards the stream of light under the door. There was a bowl of water with something floating in it. She reached over and pulled the soggy piece of bread to her mouth and slowly chewed it. She reached over and managed to drink the water. She finally pulled herself up and sat against the wall.

The Pastor finally did to her what she knew he wanted to do all along. It’s just that he couldn’t do it in the church cellar. This place was safe. He was almost certainly cock Number 9 who came down each time for his thrill and split before she finished going around the circle.

Now that he had done to her what she was being persecuted for all along, what next?

The treatment improved over the next several days. Casey still got three visits with food and water. The bowl was bigger. But once a day she was allowed to go to the washroom, brush her teeth, use the bucket and freshen up in general. After a week of this she was given a bucket of water and more soap and asked to bathe from head to toe. Casey was more than happy to. After she was done she stepped out of the washroom and the Pastor was waiting for her.

“A clean, washed body. That must feel good,” he said, sitting on a chair. He had no bag or chains with him this time. “Please, pull up a chair and sit across from me.”

Casey did as she was told. She sat on the chair, feet firmly planted on the ground, a few inches apart. She wasn’t going to cross her legs to hide anything. There was nothing left to hide.

“I hate presenting you with choices for I know what path you will choose. We have concluded that you will never repent so your time will be best served in a setting that is most appropriate for you. There will be a routine but no unpredictability. Should you stray or break the rules, there will be repercussions.

“You are in no position to be reintroduced into God’s society. However, there are those who wish to see you in their midst again but under certain conditions. Unfortunately, we cannot monitor you all the time. So for now we will set you aside and let you rehabilitate yourself. It will take time and we are willing to spend that time.”

Casey listened quietly.

“You don’t do well with company. Solitary confinement still means that you will be visited so that your basic needs are met. That raises the risk of contact and temptation on your part and the part of your caregiver. Your presence in the church cellar or here or on the plantation has the same risks.

“We want you back in our community even if you don’t repent the way we want you to repent. We want you to spend some time thinking about what you have done and what you have gone through, without the fear of anyone coming for you. If we take away the fear and unpredictability, we feel that you will recover. But it will be a hard slog. It will be rough. You might despair. You might choose to quit and return to this setting. But we are willing to give you a chance. One last chance. Are you willing to take it?”

“What choice do I have? You’ve probably decided already,” said Casey, rubbing her knees with her hands.

“You can ask to return to your old cell in the church cellar. It’s empty. Or you can ask to remain here but I will no longer be in charge of matters here. Or if you wish to be a beast of burden I can send you to the plantation permanently. What do you want to do?”

“Why not just set me free and forget about me. You’ve had your pleasure. Aren’t you bored of all this? Find some other woman to torment.”

“It’s not that easy. Since you’re not willing to take a stand, I will. I’ll decide on your behalf. Until tomorrow,” the Pastor got up and left. Casey got up and paced around the basement.

Meanwhile, upstairs, the Pastor saw Numbers 1 and 2. The rest had left. Their task had been deemed complete. “She’s yours to use as you please. I’ll come back in a year to assess. Have fun and be mindful,” he told them, shaking their hands.

XXXVII

Casey waited at the top of the stairs. She knocked on the door. She was exhausted. She had barely slept in two days, spending every moment cleaning the basement, her closet and the washroom. She swept, scrubbed and mopped the floors, mostly on her hands and knees. She cleaned the walls of the closet and the washroom and as much of the walls in the basement as she possibly could reach. Her hands were wrinkled, she was covered in sweat. Her food bowl lay empty at the bottom of the stairs. The bucket from the washroom held whatever she picked off the floor plus her own poop. She needed to empty it outside. She took the last few sips from the water bottle and waited, leaning against the wall.

This was it. She was to remain with these two men, do as they told her to do. She decided not to rock the boat for now and see how things went. Maybe they would come to their senses and get her some clothes, maybe even a sleeping bag, even a daily shower. She figured that all the chores would keep her occupied. She might even enjoy having sex with the two. After all, she used to do them routinely during her JLS days. But now they were distant and aloof.

She was dozing off when the door opened. “All done?” Number 1 asked her. She had to call him Master A now. “Yes, Master A. I have finished cleaning,” she replied, standing up, “I must empty and wash the bucket.”

“Take it outside,” he said, pointing towards the backyard. Casey took the bucket out to the trash can and emptied it. Then she washed the bucket with the garden hose and came inside.

“Looks good,” Master A said, “now go back down and get some rest. I’ll fill your food bowl shortly.”

Casey went down to the washroom and put the bucket down. She washed her hands and face in the sink and stretched her arms. She stepped out and picked up the only chair that was in the basement and put it in the middle of the floor. She sat down and yawned. She wanted to wait for her food before going back into her closet. She was liking the extra leeway she had now. It was better than staying locked up for days in the closet.

Suddenly she got up and went into her closet and picked up the sheet she had been given after the Pastor had left. It contained her new routine and expectations. She read it again, carefully.

First, follow all instructions.

Second, do not misbehave or refuse.

You are now a house slave.

You will not be chained unless necessary.

You will not be clothed for that is not necessary.

You have a right to a minimal level of sustenance.

Each morning, you will receive in a plastic bowl, one banana, one apple, two boiled eggs and four slices of bread. Three days a week the eggs will be replaced with two raw carrots and a boiled potato.

You will receive one gallon of drinking water per day.

You will have unlimited access to the washroom except at night. Each morning you must brush your teeth, wash your hands, face and privates. You must wash the same prior to nighttime confinement. You will be provided a plastic bowl for nighttime relief only.

You will pleasure your Masters on demand.

You will fulfill your daily or weekly quota of tasks and present yourself and your work to your Masters. If they are satisfied you will be granted a shower. If not, you will either have to work overtime or be sent directly to your closet for the night, without a washroom visit. If they are very displeased, you will be punished.

Punishment may come in a variety of forms:

You may be forced to work in shackles for a week or longer.

You may be confined to your closet for 24 to 48 hours.

You may be given an increased workload for up to 7 days, with your rest time reduced from 8 hours to as little as 4 hours.

You may be whipped, suspended from a ceiling beam, or both.

You may lose your washroom privileges for up to 7 days.

You may lose your shower bonus for up to 30 days, even if your work on that given day is deemed satisfactory.

Casey was determined not to screw up.

But she did any way. Big time.

XXXVIII

Casey trudged across the field, dragging her feet which were shackled and had 25 pound weights attached. Her collar weighed her down as well for it was connected to a 25 pound ball that was also attached to her wrist shackles. Master A followed her, whipping her with abandon as she struggled mightily to walk.

“Please, Master A, I can’t go any further. My back hurts. It’s all too heavy,” Casey begged, sobbing. The hot sun wasn’t making it any better for her.

“Shut up and keep moving,” Master A roared, with two more cracks of the whip, “you filthy cunt. Keep going!”

Casey struggled to move. They had been at this for nearly two hours and she had barely gone two miles. He was only carrying a backpack with supplies. He let her drink some water after an hour.

“You fucking screwed up back there. Now you are going to pay. Stop right here,” he ordered her as they came to a shed after nearly three hours of walking.

“The old rules are gone. New rules,” he said, “and you’ll figure them out as time goes by.”

He removed the weight from her neck and ordered her to stand up straight. He removed one weight from her legs and took the weights into the shed. He emerged with a shovel.

“Six feet by four feet and six feet deep. Dawn to dusk, all day, every day, no stopping except when we say so,” he told her. Just then an ATV pulled up. It was Master B with some boxes and a steel drum. The men unloaded the 55 gallon drum and rolled it over towards a tree.

“Your water is in there. There is a spicket on the side. Here’s a box of special nutrient bars for outdoor labor. Three per day, one month’s supply. A bottle of mouthwash, a plastic bowl and a small towel,” Master B said, “dig yourself a toilet. We’ll be watching you closely. We expect not to return in a month. The hole better be ready by then.

XXXIX

She was nowhere close to being done. The ground being so hard, she had just about managed to cut out the six by four area and had made it about two feet deep in parts, and only a few inches deep in other parts. It was day 29 and she was down to her final four nutrient bars. They were surprisingly substantial. The water drum was getting lighter but there was some left. The plastic bowl rested under the spicket.

Casey’s hands were calloused, so were her feet. Her feet were also caked with dirt and mud. Her whole body was streaked with dirt thanks to the rivers of sweat that poured out of her all day long. It never rained. The sun beat down hard everyday, even though her area was shaded by some trees. The leg weight made movement difficult. She tended to stand in one place a dig for hours before moving to another location.

The chirping of birds woke her up each morning. She slowly rose from the ground. She had chosen a soft grassy spot under a tree to sleep. She had a dug a hole a few feet away for her poop. She peed where she was going to dig to soften up the ground.

She’d start the day with a drink of water, pee and dig for a while. Then, when the sun would start to rise she would take a break and eat a bar. Then she would continue to work, taking a poop break when she needed to. She rinsed with some water but used a wet towel to clean her face, arms and hands at the end of the day. She’d also run it over her pussy. She labored furiously all day, every day. She ate her second bar when the sun was at its highest and the third bar just after sunset. She would slow down and finally stop digging when it got too dark and she was too exhausted to continue. She made sure that she drank enough water along the way and she rinsed with mouthwash at the end of the day.

They showed up on the 30th day. Early in the morning, when she was just rising. She heard, “that’s all?” It was Master A, pointing a flashlight at the incomplete hole. “Thirty days, a good shovel and that’s all you’ve accomplished?”

Casey stood up, “Master A, the ground is so hard. I’ve been trying, I swear. I even pee there to soften the ground but it’s very difficult.” She was trembling, terrified.

“What do we do,” Master A asked Master B, who signaled they should step away and talk.

“We’ll be back,” Master B said as they drove off in the ATV. They returned an hour later. They left another box, “two bars a day, 30 days supply. A bunch of carrots as well.” They took her towel, switched water drums and gave her a fresh bottle of mouthwash. This water drum didn’t have a spicket. They tossed the plastic bowl into it and put the lid on. Finally, for good measure, they secured a second weight to her legs, limiting her movements even more.

XL

Casey was covered from head to toe in dirt and mud. Her hair had grown out and was as good as ruined from the dirt and sun. There was not an inch of skin untouched. Her sweat stuck to her. Her hands were swollen, her fingers grubby and cracked. She was in the hole, all day every day, trying to get down to six feet. Climbing out proved to be an impossible task, given the weights around her ankles. The water drum thankfully had a spicket so she had dragged it close to the hole. She almost never emerged from the ditch. Three months had almost passed. She had made considerable progress once she had broken through a thick layer of gravel. The ground was relatively soft now. But she was still a few feet away from finished.

At the end of yet another grueling day she opened the spicket and filled her bowl. She drank lots of water, splashing some onto her face and wiping it with the back of her hand. She splashed some onto her pussy, rinsing what she could. Finally, she grabbed a bar and ate it and then curled up in the ditch and fell asleep.

“90 days and still incomplete,” said Master A, sounding disappointed.

“I’m getting there,” Casey said in a whisper, looking up at him from four feet below. He took off his belt and jumped into the ditch. “On all fours, whore,” he ordered her and proceeded to whip her until she slumped to the ground, writhing in pain.

“You’ll eat a slice of bread, twice a day, and a gallon of water. We’ll bring it each morning. Nothing else,” he said, climbing out of the hole and walking away. He rolled the water drum away and placed a gallon of water and two slices of bread near the edge of the hole.

Casey struggled to continue each day. She was fast losing her will to work. She ate her daily bread and drank all the water but she was nearing the end of her tether. The hole was almost finished. She had a foot to go in one half and a few inches in the other half.

They cut her down to one slice of bread a day.

On day 135, Casey leveled the final bit of ground, completing the hole. She stared up and knew she couldn’t pull herself out. She lay down on the soft ground and smiled. She had made it. She peed onto the ground below her as she lay on her back, her legs stretched out. She stared up at the sun. She smiled again.

Then someone began to shovel dirt back into the hole.

Casey sat up and screamed, “wait, I’m in here!” She stood up. That was a struggle. The dirt kept coming and coming. “Don’t bury me alive. Please! Let me out!” She tried to pull herself up but her hands kept slipping and the weights around her ankles weren’t helping.

Soon she was buried up to her waist. She couldn’t move as all her hard work was being undone. Mounds of dirt and gravel kept flying in. Casey was buried to her breasts now. Her hands were on the edge, she continued to make futile attempts to pull herself out.

“Help me. Please,” she begged, “I don’t want to die. Not like this. Please,” she sobbed. When the earth reached her neck it stopped coming. A shadow approached. A familiar figure leaned over.

“Well Hello there.” It was the Pastor. He began to compact the earth around her with his foot.

“Please help me out,” Casey screamed.

“Say the magic words,” the Pastor said.

Casey took a deep breath and said, “I love sodomy and so do you!”

“Defiant until the very end,” said the Pastor, getting up ad picking up his shovel, “you’ll be missed Casey. By me. No one else cares.”

More dirt started to fly in. Casey closed her eyes and began to pray. The dirt collected around her. She began to feel light and calm. She took deep breaths as the earth continued to swallow her. It was closing in around her, a small pocket remained where her head was. She could still see light. She was still alive. A bucket was placed over her head. There were two tubes connected to the bucket. One came close to her mouth. On the other end there was a funnel.

The earth finished swallowing her, leaving her in an air pocket, in darkness, unable to move but able to breathe.

Watery grits came gushing down the tube, collecting near her chin. She slurped it up noisily. Sometimes it was just water. She had to gulp quickly to avoid drowning.

The ground between her legs got warm from time to time. Overall the earth was fairly loosely packed so she could wiggle about a bit.

She grew weaker and found herself passing out often, being woken up by the cold grits hitting her in the face.

XLI

Casey opened her eyes. She saw some lights. She tried to speak, “where am I?”

“Shhh,” said a familiar voice, “get some rest.” She couldn’t place the voice. She closed her eyes. She could smell antiseptic around her. She felt warm. She wasn’t able to move.

When they did move her she found herself in a small room with padded walls and a padded floor. Her arms were folded in front of her and secured in a long sleeve. She was naked except for a diaper. But there was a plug in her butt. She looked at her feet. They were clean. Her hair had been shaved off. It was no more than a stubble at this point. She curled up in the corner of the cell. A bright light was on. She wanted to scream but couldn’t. She didn’t have much strength, plus she was gagged.

After a while she heard a voice through the door, “you were muttering nonsense so we brought you here. We cleaned you nicely and calmed you down. The medication will help. You will be saved. We all have to be patient.” It was the voice of the grocery store lady.

Casey took a deep breath. The diaper made her uncomfortable. It was already soaking wet.

When they took her out two hours later, they put her in a wheelchair and strapped her legs. They removed the gag and gave her a generous drink of water, through a straw, followed by some thick liquid. They took her outside into the fresh air for 15 minutes and then brought her back inside, where they moved her from the wheelchair to a bench. There, once she was lying down, they changed her soaking wet diaper, wiping her down with a wet cloth. They had waxed off her bush, every last hair was gone. They had done the same with her armpits. They applied a cold gel to her pussy and put a fresh diaper on her. Then they put her in her cell for the rest of the evening, visiting her twice with water, but keeping her gagged the rest of the time.

In the morning, they brushed her teeth, washed her face and fed her breakfast, which was another thick shake. They removed her diaper and butt plug and sat her down on a toilet. After that, they wiped her down from head to toe, with a wet towel and dried her off. Then they put a fresh diaper on her, restrained her and led her back to her cell for the rest of the morning. After a mid-morning drink of water, she was brought out for lunch and a diaper change. Overall Casey was mellow and quiet but she was slowly coming to her senses as to what was going on. She had to be patient. Very patient.

Then there was the treatment. Once a week she was given an injection after her morning routine and within minutes she’d fall asleep. For the next twelve hours they’d infuse her with certain medication. They would also place a crown on her head which was studded with electrodes. Various forms of signals were transmitted into her head while she lay there, unconscious.

She’d wake up in her cell, usually shivering and convulsing, soaking her diaper, unable to scream of do anything. Her ankles would also be strapped together. She’d break into a sweat and writhe on the floor. Then she’d fall asleep and wake up with no recollection of the previous day.

Casey would be very quiet and disoriented the day after her treatment. She would be completely passive and submissive as the attendants took care of her needs, feeding her, washing her, changing her and rolling her around in the wheelchair. Her mind would be blank, she’s just stare out into the distance, responding to basic commands like “drink” and “get up”.

What were they doing to her? She’d wonder when her senses would return.

XLII

Casey had been there for six weeks. She was being given a little more leeway with her movements. They were letting her walk around the floor and even feed herself, which meant her arm restraints had to be removed. She wasn’t causing any trouble but for her protection, they restrained and gagged her whenever she was alone in her padded cell.

She was fully aware of herself and her surroundings. Whatever drugs and waves they were pumping into her didn’t seem to change any of that. But she always felt tired and run down. Her life before this place seemed like a distant memory. She vaguely recalled some of the torment she had experienced. She couldn’t recall faces as well. But she could hear familiar voices and her own screams at times. She’d wake up at night in a cold sweat, remembering momentarily something she had experienced, such as the ditch digging or the taser. All in all, she was uncomfortable, especially with the diaper and restraints.

Instead of the usual treatment Casey was restrained on a large padded table. Her arms were stretched above her. Her knees were folded and pushed up to her breasts, her legs spread for all to see. She was gagged and blindfolded.

A warm gel was smeared on her pussy and down into her butt crack. A gloved hand applied a strip of cloth to her pussy, and yanked. She shrieked through her gag, unable to move. One lip at a time, and then her butt. They removed the stubble and tiny hairs that had grown since her first waxing. That waxing happened after it took them three hours to scrub her clean, removing all the dirt and mud that she had collected after weeks digging and days being buried. They had to remove all her hair as a result.

They wiped her pussy and ass with a wet cloth and waxed her underarms. They finished by waxing the stubble off her legs and thighs.

They released her from the restraints and let her sit up. She dangled her legs off the side of the table. She was still blindfolded. Someone handed her a bottle of water. “Drink it,” she was instructed. Casey drank the water directly from the bottle instead of through a straw.

She had gained some weight. The color was back in her cheeks. Her breasts were a little fuller than before. Physically she was as healthy as she could get. But she still felt drained and tired.

She was helped off the table. She took a few slow steps and sat down in the wheelchair. Her blindfold was removed. She blinked her eyes in the sunlight room. An attendant stood before her. Casey felt the urge to pee but before she could say anything she felt the towel underneath her get wet and warm. Had she lost bladder control? She tried to say something to the attendant but couldn’t find the words. All she could say was “Why wet.”

The attendant pressed a switch near the door. Two men showed up and picked up Casey. She didn’t resist or couldn’t resist. They carried her out of the room and down an elevator. She saw them press SB for sub-basement. Once there she carried through a dimly-lit catacomb until they came to a dead-end. They were facing a heavy metal door. A picture of Casey in her better days hung on the door. One of the men opened the door and swung it out into the corridor. They dragged Casey inside. One of them held her down onto the padded floor while the other pushed her legs up to her chest. Then, unzipping his fly, he entered her making his intentions clear. Casey let out a moan but didn’t have the strength to struggle. This was all too familiar for her. However, she didn’t feel any pleasure or pain as the man moved inside her.

They took turns and after each had fucked her three times, they decided that enough was enough and they left Casey on the floor, in near darkness. She lay there, cum dripping out of her pussy, sticking to her inner thighs.

She turned her head and surveyed the cell. The walls were padded as was most of the floor. There was a square foot that wasn’t padded but that was the hole. She slowly brought herself to her feet and shuffled to the door. She could see out the tiny barred window. All she saw was a long corridor with several dim lightbulbs lining one side. But there were no people, no voices. She was by herself.

She discovered a tap near the hole. She slowly turned it and water came trickling out. She cupped her hands and collected some water and drank it. She did it over and over again to quench her thirst. Then she took some water and rubbed it onto her pussy, cleaning the cum and her own piss off her freshly-waxed pussy.

Casey couldn’t really comprehend what was going on. Familiarizing herself with her surroundings seemed to take a huge effort. She was tired. She fell asleep on the floor and woke up some time later, wet between her legs and the padded floor underneath her was damp as well.

XLIII

Casey crouched in the middle of the cell and chewed on her nails. Her hair was long and almost reached her lower back. It was stringy and full of split ends. She loved playing with it, she even tried to braid it at times but the braids would fall apart.  She managed to tie it up in a ponytail.

She stared at the floor beneath her and caught a glimpse of her bush, once again thick and flourishing. She rolled some of the coarse hair around her finger and smiled.

She thought she heard footsteps. She spring to her feet and looked out the bars. “Anybody there? Anybody? Where’s my food?” she called out. But there was no one. She slammed her fists against the padded door and slumped to the floor. She crawled away and took refuge in the corner and waited. After a while she went over to the tap and drank water, lowering her mouth to the tap and drinking directly. That way she got more and wasted less than if she collected it in her hands.

A few minutes later the footsteps were real and got louder. But the door didn’t open. A slot at the base did and a steel bowl with a chain attached to it was pushed in. The contents splashed around. Casey rushed over and slurped it up. It was a broth-like liquid filled with random stuff: some bread ends, carrot peels, banana slices. On the outside of the bowl was a wad of toothpaste. Casey rubbed it over her teeth after eating, spitting into bowl and pushing the bowl towards the door. She drank more water.

No one had entered her cell in months. She had managed to regain full control of her bladder in the interim. She was definitely lonely and tired easily. She tried to take care of herself by washing as best as she could at the tap. But it was difficult. There was no soap and the water came in a trickle. She spent her time lying down or crouching in the corner. Sometimes she paced the tiny cell. She even took to doing exercises whenever her body permitted.

They were trying to drive her insane. They weren’t succeeding.

XLIV

They came in when she was sleeping. Roughly grabbing her, one of them snipped off her long hair, which by now had gone past her butt. He chopped it off at the shoulder and threw her down to the floor. Casey let out a scream, “Not my hair,” she begged but it was too late. They were gone. Casey curled up and sobbed uncontrollably, grabbing what was left of her hair, pounding her fists on the floor.

Then the visits resumed. Many times a day. Casey never resisted. She lacked the will to resist. They started turning the hose on her to wash her every now and then. She didn’t bother to look at who it was. She just lay there or got on all fours, doing as she was told. They never said more than a few words. Sometimes there was just one person, sometimes there were as many as four or five, in which case they dragged her out into the corridor. One after the other, or three at a time, taking turns, moving from one part of her body to another. It was almost like the time with the eight men. Casey had some memory of those days. But now, in the darkness, in the sub-basement, in her own little space, they had her at their mercy as always, but they weren’t succeeding in driving her insane or getting her to confess. In fact, they no longer asked her to confess.

XLV

“It’s been three years. How is she?” asked the Pastor, fresh from his massive re-election victory.

“Still holding on. Still taking care of herself as best as she can given the arrangements we have down there,” came the reply from the Director of the institute.

“All that treatment, this prolonged confinement, and she’s still sane?” the Pastor was incredulous.

“You couldn’t break her after all that you put her through. Modern medicine can only go so far. It’s hard to make someone insane with the drugs at our disposal. The shockwaves only did so much. The effects come undone over time.”

“And you won’t do anything more than IV and shock therapy, right?”

“Who will take care of her if we did something drastic? We can’t have her be a burden to the community or to any particular facility. There are others who really need help. We can’t manufacture cases for your pleasure.”

“You realize that God wants her punished. Not me.”

“Yes, I do. But I’m also doing God’s work by helping those who need help.”

“Very well. What kind of cell do you have her in?”

“It’s padded. The only light comes in through the bars on the door. Meals are served through a slot. There’s a hole and a tap inside. We give her some toothpaste and that’s about it. Broth and scraps, twice a day, that’s what she eats. We’ve got her on camera at all times as well. Other than some screaming and bouts of frustration, she’s largely docile.”

“Any sexual urges?”

“Not really. But we’ve got folks visiting her lately. She’s quite passive and submissive. It might take a few more years before she truly breaks.”

“Is there any way you can shut the water off for a while?”

The Director stared at his desk and thought hard. “She gets visitors, you know. They have some standards.”

“Stop the visits.”

“But she’s our best catch. Quite desirable, in spite of what she’s been through.”

“Maybe a hose down can precede each visit. Targeted hosing.”

“Well, she undertakes targeted washing anyway.”

“Look, I have risked everything to get a confession out of her. I was just re-elected having asked my congregation for patience. I need her to break soon. I need her to repent.”

“Would you like some time with her?”

“No. Is there another cell you could move her to? One that’s not padded and not as comfortable as this one? Can you put her in shackles?”

“We have a regular cell, stone and concrete. Four walls, quite light tight. A hole for waste. There’s a slot under the door and a sliding window on the door to look in. Will that do?”

“Move her there.” The Pastor got up and left.

XLVI

Casey ran her fingers along the edge of the wall. She hummed to herself. She slowly moved her fingers up and down, as though she was caressing the concrete. Her other hand was on her breast, just cupping it. She closed her eyes, and tried to concentrate. She didn’t know what to focus on. It was dark. Very dark. She sucked on her fingers. Her stomach growled. She brought her wet fingers down to her bush and played with the hair, curling it and tugging it. She ran her fingers over her pussy, barely touching her lips as the thick layer of hair covered them. She kept her hand there and moved over to the hole. She let the warm piss flow out onto her cupped hands. She collected what she could and brought her hands to her mouth so that she could drink the warm liquid, quenching her thirst in the process. She let out a yell of satisfaction.

Just then she heard the sound of keys. She crawled over to the door. The food bowl came in. The slot remained open, allowing some light into her cell. She felt the outer edge of the bowl and found the toothpaste. She quickly rubbed it on her teeth. Then she drank the warm broth, swallowing the bits of solid food along the way. She put the empty bowl down. It was pulled out and filled with water. She drank most of it and dripped the last bit onto her eyes and face.

Casey, who was 26 when she was first confined, was now 31. Five years had passed. She didn’t know it.

She found herself talking in the darkness to make time pass. She described random incidents, many of them sexual. She described her tenure as a beast of burden. Her memory was back. She led animated conversations, each ending with the words, “I’m not crazy yet.”

Sometimes she would lose it, yelling and sobbing. She’d scream, “I love sodomy and so do you. Now let me out of here.” She never resorted to hurting herself. She’d roll around on the floor, jump up and down, even took to vigorous exercising, push ups and crunches as a way to kill time.

Occasionally there would be a visitor. Or two. Or three. But these encounters were rare. The only bonus would be a blast of cold water between her legs and onto her face.

She rediscovered masturbation. She found that her pussy was getting very wet whenever she talked. She’d shove two or three fingers in and bring them out all sticky and wet. She’d touch herself until she climaxed and fall asleep from exhaustion. She went from being dirt and sweat covered to dirt, sweat and cum covered in no time. Sex was her escape.

The Pastor checked in with the director and grew increasingly frustrated. “Stop the visits!” he roared.

XLVII

“Happy Birthday Casey. You are 32 years old today, did you know that?” the Pastor said, staring down at her. “Look at you. Still resisting.”

Casey was on her hands and knees, not quite on all fours. She was looking down at the ground to avoid the glare of the corridor light. Her hair was long again. She hadn’t bothered with it in a while. She was just about getting by each day and thanks to the kindness of the guards, who went against the explicit wishes of the Pastor, she had access to some water to stay clean. But she was mostly dirt covered and had lost all the weight she had gained during her initial treatment at the Institute. The waxing was a thing of the past as well.

“Six years ago you came to use for help. Or we brought you in for help. All the while you resisted, were stubborn, behaved badly and broke every rule in the book. Nothing has worked for you. But I am not one to give up. You will face the congregation tomorrow.”

He turned to the waiting guards, “shackle her and load her into the van. Blindfold her as well.”

They did as they were told. Casey had irons locked around her wrists and ankles as well as a collar. They placed a hood on her and dragged her to the elevator. For a brief moment she felt the warm breeze on her skin but then she was stuffed into a small space under one of the seats, curled up and unable to move. The Pastor drove off, leaving her in complete darkness.

She remained in the space for several hours even though the van had stopped long ago. She was thirsty and struggling to stay calm. Finally, she was let out and escorted into the Church. It wasn’t until she was painfully secured to a frame, her arms stretched behind her and locked to a chain that was dangling from the frame, that the hood was removed. She was offered a drink of water from a bowl. She didn’t have the heart to say no. She was trying to catch her breath. She stared at a giant curtain in front of her. She could here many voices on the other side. People were coming in and taking their seats. Then the Pastor called the gathering to order.

He went into his usual rant about sins and repentance and then began to talk about Casey.

“It’s been six years since we charged her. She is yet to repent in spite of all of our good intentions. The girl is brave and resilient but sadly, misguided. I have brought her before you, in her most primal and animalistic state, with the hope of getting her to repent so that we can put this sad chapter behind us and set her free.”

The curtain was opened and a gasp followed. There was silence for a while. Then the chants of “whore”, “slut” and “sodomite” began. The Pastor let the crowd vent.

After the chanting and chaos died down the Pastor continued, “she will be whipped front and back until she repents. Her screams will be heard for miles. Most importantly, you will all hear it.”

Two men, armed with belts took their positions. One behind her and one in front. Then the whipping began.

Casey remained defiant, even counting the lashes while fighting back tears and choking on her screams. The whips left no marks but really hurt. Her voice began to grow faint after 25 lashes. She managed to mutter up to 32 when the whipping stopped.

“Repent Casey,” the Pastor ordered her. Casey lifted her head and looked at her and said nothing.

The crowd began to chant, “Repent! Repent!”

The whipping resumed. Casey began to drift in and out of consciousness after 50 lashes. After 60, the whipping stopped. The Pastor got nothing.

He decided to take a break from Casey’s troubles and continued to speak on another topic. After about 20 minutes, when Casey seemed more conscious, he asked her to repent. When he got nothing, the whipping resumed, with the crowd whipped up into a frenzy.

Casey remembered nothing after the 95th lash. She had bravely counted loudly from 61 to 87.

For the next several days she didn’t remember much. It was an orgy of whipping, hosing and fucking. She was presented to the congregation again the following week. They got nothing.

She spent the next week suspended from the ceiling by her wrists and lashed by anyone who wished to lash her. There were several volunteers who came forward to lash her dangling body, day and night. She was fed nothing more than a sludge-like concoction and water.

The Pastor tried everything for the next month. All tried and failed techniques: dunking, the rack, the taser and of course lots of fucking. Casey didn’t say a word.

XLVIII

“Enough Pastor. The game is over,” one of the elders said to him at the Church Elders meeting, “I mean look at her. She is absolutely broken and helpless. She won’t repent and I think we should call off this whole charade.”

“Absolutely not!” the Pastor roared back, “she will repent even if it takes me another 10 years. I have time!”

“No you don’t,” came the reply, “your role in her penance is known to all. You don’t practice what you preach.”

“I’m doing my job!”

“Not for long. This committee will recommend an impeachment hearing at this week’s service. There will be a vote. You either set her free now or risk losing your post and the next Pastor will set her free.”

“Do what you want. I will stay on Pastor and Casey will remain in penance until she repents.” He got up and walked out.

“Committee votes 7-2 to recommend an impeachment hearing.” The Pastor ignored the statement.

By the time they wrapped up the meeting, Casey was locked under the seat of the van and the Pastor drove off with her.

IL
Casey was so weak and exhausted that she didn’t feel like moving from her spot. He had her chained by the neck to a pipe than ran along the back of the house. The chain was about four feet long, giving her some freedom of movement but for the most part she either lay on the grass or sat grabbing her knees.

She was at the Pastor’s remote cabin. Tucked away in the forest, there was no one else in sight. The only sounds she heard were those of birds or of the leaves rustling in the breeze.

He hadn’t said anything since he brought her out here, having whisked her away from the church basement after the most intense whipping she had experienced. Her entire body still ached from the suspension and the hundreds of lashes. But there were no lasting scars beyond a few bruises here and there.

He’d come out onto the balcony to check on her. Twice a day he’d leave her a plate of food and fill her water jug. The food was much better. In the morning he’d bring her two boiled eggs, two slices of bread and a banana. She’d save one slice of bread and the banana for later. In the late-afternoon he’d bring her a bowl of grits with boiled carrots and green beans.

But not much else had changed. She was still naked, she still slept on the ground and she used a deep drain nearby as a toilet. She could reach the tap next to the porch to wash but he gave her a toothbrush. She started brushing her teeth twice a day again.

She didn’t know what his plans were. She didn’t dare ask. He seemed awfully calm and relaxed. She’d hear him drive away every now and then but he’d always come back. He hadn’t touched her in any way since he chained her to the pipe.

Casey’s strength slowly returned. Eating well helped. She began to feel better, more refreshed. The weather always seemed nice. She hoped that things wouldn’t take a turn for the worse again.

After almost 10 days, the Pastor spoke of his intentions. He made her an offer, “I am withdrawing from the community, taking leave from my position as Pastor. I am offering myself to finish God’s work, free from other distractions.

“Since you refuse to repent and the Church has lost patience, you will marry me and serve as my obedient slave. That will count as repentance.”

Casey looked stunned. Was this guy out of his mind? “What about you own wife?” she asked him.

“I am allowed multiple wives. But I will focus on you for now.”

“What makes you think I want to marry you? What will I gain? Clothes? A bed?”

“You will serve in whatever way I wish. Marriage won’t change who you are or how you think. But I hope it will. You cannot bear any more children but you can at least serve your Master.”

“But you can do whatever you want without marrying me.”

“Of course. So Casey, will you marry me?” He leaned against the porch railing and looked down at her. She stood up.

“Take off this chain, get me some clothes and let me take a proper shower and I will give you an answer.”

“Still stubborn after all these years. I’ll take that as a no.” He went inside the house.

“You think marrying you will make life better for me?” Casey screamed out, “you’re still the perverted pig. You’ll continue to torment me!” She pulled at the chain, clanging it against the pipe.

The Pastor came outside and said, “Of course I will. That’s what you deserve. I can change your living conditions in an instant. You remember what it was like at the Institution. Or in the ditch that you had diligently dug. Or at the plantation. Or back in the Church cellar. You think you’ve experienced it all. Well, you are wrong.”

“What’s left now? You can withhold food and water and just let me wither away. That’s all that I have left to experience. I’ve seen it all,” Casey thundered.

“What fun would that be?”

“Look at me! You know I have nothing to repent for and I won’t marry you. Why not let me go. Set me free. Or just kill me!”

“That would be too easy. I’m not ready to let you go yet. I have made special plans for you. We will travel together. Now rest up. We have an early start tomorrow.”

The Pastor walked towards the door and then turned and said to Casey, who had sat back down, “As long as I live, you will be with me. You will never wear any clothes again. You will never experience any comfort or convenience again.”

Casey ignored him and closed her eyes. She sighed and swore under her breath.

L

“Faster whore,” the Pastor thundered, cracking the whip against her back. Casey kept moving as best as she could. Her back hurt and each crack of the whip made it worse. Sweat poured out of every part of her body. She kept her head down to keep the sweat out of her eyes. She moved along the muddy path, splattering herself along the way.

She was, once again, a beast of burden. Her fists were locked in leather mitts, a chain was tied around her back and was connected to a carriage where the Pastor was sitting with two bags of supplies. Her ankles and wrists were also shackled and her collar was attached to her wrists. Her hair had been cut short again. A plug had been inserted into her ass and a tail dangled from it. She had knee pads on as well.

They had left at the crack of dawn. It was close to noon and they had stopped just once and Casey was given water and a cup of dry oats. She was hauling a heavy load and hadn’t made much progress.

They stopped at sunset. Casey was amazed that she had made it through the day without passing out. She was covered in mud and sweat. He chained her to a tree and freed her hands. He pulled the plug out of her ass. That gave her a chance to relieve herself a few feet away. He left her with a bowl of oats and dry cornmeal and a bottle of water. He set up a tent for himself in the distance and went inside.

For seven days they traveled, through the woods, along paths both muddy and dry. In the end, they were back at the house. Casey was in wretched shape, sore and bruised and of course, muddy and filthy.

LI

Casey was still sleeping even though the sun had been up for over an hour. She’d probably sleep all day, the Pastor thought when he came out with her breakfast. He poked her in the ribcage with his boots, “wake up whore!” he shouted. Casey stirred and grumbled. He jabbed her again, “Ow, don’t,” she begged slowly pulling herself up.

“Clean yourself up and eat. We’ll talk later,” he said, putting down a plate of the pre-trip fare and a jug of water.

“Clean myself for what? So you can drag me through the mud again,” Casey said, annoyed.

“Maybe. I’ll be back.” The Pastor walked around to the front of the house and drove off.

Casey was hungry. She ate her food, saving the banana for later. She drank all the water and crawled over to the drain. Crouching, she pissed for the first time in over 12 hours. The pee flowed and flowed and finally slowed to a trickle. Casey sighed and got up. She turned on the tap and filled her water jug. She found the remnants of the small bar of soap she had been given on the second day. Slowly she got to work, cleaning her hands and arms, then her face and neck, scrubbing the dirt off, a little at a time. She worked her way down her breasts, scrubbing her hairy armpits and then her bush. She rinsed her pussy directly at the tap and washed her ass. Then she washed her legs and feet, which were in worst shape. Finally, after an hour of effort, she was satisfied, feeling clean and fresh. She brushed her teeth and walked over to the porch and leaned against it. That’s as far as she could go with the chain attached.

Later that morning the Pastor returned. Casey was nibbling on the banana. He stood on the porch and looked at her.

“Nice job getting cleaned up,” he said with a smirk, “so what will it be? Repentance or marriage?”

“Either way you’ll treat me like an animal,” Casey said, not even looking at him.

“Well, repentance means freedom. I’ll drive you to the county line and leave you by the side of the road. Naked, of course. No one will believe your story. They’ll take you in for a psych evaluation and maybe lock you up. They’ll call you a danger to yourself and a menace to society. On the plus side, you’ll wear clothes again and maybe even get a soft bed to sleep in. If you’re good, they’ll give you access to a toilet. Or they’ll strap a diaper on you and put you in a strait jacket.”

“See, what’s the point? Plus, I have nothing to repent for.”

Maze of Faith: I

“Do you, Casey Ann, take this woman, Eva Marie, as your lawful wedded spouse?” said the Pastor.

Casey stood in the outdoor breeze, the sun refreshingly warm, and said with a smile, “I do.” Her flowing white gown fluttered in the breeze as the onlookers smiled.

“Do you, Eva Marie, take this woman, Casey Ann, as your lawful wedded spouse?”

Casey waited for to-be spouse’s response. Eva stood there, wearing nothing but stockings and a veil, her soft, smooth skin glistening in the sun.

“I do,” came the reply. Casey smiled, tears welling in her eyes.

“I now pronounce you sinners for life,” said the Pastor as dark clouds covered the sun and the weather changed drastically. Loud thunder was quickly followed by heavy rain…

Casey woke up, her heart racing. She was covered in sweat. Another dream.

She sat up and drank some water. The light in the corridor outside her cell was on. There was no one around. It must be nighttime, she thought. She got up and walked over to the toilet and crouched. She peed into the steel pan and washed herself at the tap. She walked back to the concrete bunk and lay down.

The last several weeks had been quiet. She was in year seven of her confinement and penance. She hadn’t seen the Pastor in a long time. Only the volunteers who worked in the basement below the church were around. Occasionally she would hear the screams of newly-captured “sinners” who were quick to confess and repent and were set free. No one was as resilient as Casey, who, after over six years of torment, held her ground. They had run out of ideas and figured they’d let her rot in the concrete cell.

Casey had taken care of herself remarkably well. She washed daily at the tap, using the soap scraps they gave her. She ate her meals, which were slightly better than meager. At least she wasn’t starving. True, she had lost weight during her confinement but she still had a decent frame. Her hair was long again. That was hard to maintain.

She had no clothes, she had no company. She was all alone, except when a volunteer showed up with food. That happened twice a day. Rice and vegetable scraps for one meal and grits and banana for another. Occasionally, they’d give her half an egg. Maybe three times a week.

She sexual urges were undiminished. She still masturbated, even though there was a camera trained on her at all times. She figured the perverts upstairs would enjoy the show.

The days went by until everything changed again.

The Pastor had been busted for a homosexual affair. He was expelled from the Church and in his place, an even more conservative hardliner was elected. This new Pastor advocated crucifixion of all sinners and wanted to tag all vehicles in the county to keep track of people’s travels. Both ideas failed to garner enough support, though the residents were happy to witness routine humiliation, whipping and excommunication of anyone who strayed, including his own daughter, Eva Marie.

The old Pastor had started a new project titled “Maze of Faith”. This was a long maze, both indoor and outdoor, that sinners would have to go through in order to be absolved of their sins, even if they didn’t verbally repent. The shortest path out was nearly eight miles long, and along the way there would be tricks and deceptions. The new Pastor made sure the project was completed and he sent the first wave of sinner through in the first week of October. One emerged after four days. The second emerged after eighteen days. The third, Eva Marie, didn’t, even though a month had passed. Of course, they knew where she was. She had taken some poor decisions in the maze and was paying for it.

Casey was next.

II

Casey heard about the new Pastor when the volunteers were talking down the hall from her cell. She was hopeful for a moment but was soon discouraged to hear about his views and methods. He soon came down to introduce himself.

“My predecessor was right. You are a sodomite whore. Pure filth,” he said, stepping into the cell, “Stand up and face the wall.”

Casey got up and said, “I love sodomy and so do you.”

“I know you do,” he said, blindfolding her, “We have a game for you to play.” He cuffed her hands behind her back and led her out into a waiting van. The van sped off and after an hour they were at the Maze of Faith.

The Pastor held Casey at the entrance. He removed her blindfold and cuffs and placed a tag around her ankle. “You’re going in. You have to find your way out. If you do, you’ll be a free person again. You’ll find what you need inside. If the Lord has truly forgiven you, he’ll show you the way.” He pressed a buzzer and the door opened. He pushed Casey inside and the door slammed shut.

Casey stared ahead. It was a long, dimly lit corridor. She grabbed two water bottles from the rack near the door. She began to walk. When she came near the end, she found two openings, one on each side. She peeked inside both and got the sense that she was in a maze. She turned left.

Four hours later, she was exhausted and frustrated. She had finished one bottle of water and had to pee. She was also hungry. She had reached yet another dead end so she backtracked. She saw a steel receptacle at one end. She rushed over and peed into it. She sat down for a little bit to catch her breath. Then she got up and proceeded, leaving the empty water bottle behind.

She saw a sign that said, “food”. She stepped into the opening. She found bread and fruit. She ate. Then suddenly, the lights dimmed and went out. There were two noises. The space she had walked through was now sealed, and a small door opened in one of the walls of the area she was in. She had no choice but to crawl through the opening. She grabbed as much food as she could and went in. Once she was ten feet in, the lights got brighter but the entry shut closed. She crawled for what seemed like hours. Finally, exhausted, she stopped and ate, and fell asleep.