Chapter Nine
Contrary to my expectations Ash lived up to his word with the television - well,
sort of. I was not permitted to see anything direct. He would only let me view
videos he had recorded himself from free-to-air television. In doing this he
either only watched the ABC and SBS, or else that was all he could receive. In
fact I suspected he gave me these programs because there were no advertisements
or unexpected newsbreaks that he had to look out for. He seemed very careful
about isolating me from any changes in the outside world - a fact which scared
me when I thought of the longer term implications. I ended up watching period
dramas and foreign films, although I was more than content with these little
luxuries.
What I did not appreciate was the depression that would result when these treats
were withheld, for whatever reason. He had begun to create a further, more
subtle dependency, a conditioning that I found hard to fight. There had been
the initial punishment regime, then small carrots which could be withdrawn at
any time. He had shortened my neck chain so that I could not reach the
television, where he normally put the remote. On one instance he forgot and
left the remote on the bed, enabling me to watch the movie twice. My punishment
was first a flogging then time in the dark with no book and no television. It
made me feel about six years old as I cried when my little pleasures were taken
away.
I have no idea how much time passed until the morning (?) he breezed in and
announced I could go outside. I was taken aback and my heart leapt at the
prospect. No more had been said about it since I had first tentatively raised
the question. But once again, it was not all gain for Jan. As was Ash's
tradition, I was to be used again for unwilling sex. I could not resist, of
course, and I did my utmost to conceal any positive reaction to the treatment he
meted out. But sometimes this was not easy. I had been used in this manner
perhaps two dozen or more times since my capture. One more made no difference,
but the detrimental effect was lessened each time and I found myself responding
more and more. It worried me that my body was willing while my mind rejected
the concept totally.
This time he made me kneel in my usual chains under a pulley from which hung a
short horizontal steel bar. I wound up with the soft rubber ball and the
discipline helmet again, which seemed to be almost de rigueur for the
fashion-conscious captives in this part of the world. Then the chain links on
my wrist cuffs were locked to the bar and I felt myself start to go up in the
world as he cranked the hand winch. The chains from my wrists to my ankles
tightened as I started to be lifted off the ground. My feet rose up behind my
buttocks as the chain slid through the hip links. My wrists we not high - a
comfortable height above my head but not stretched out before the chain was taut
and my ankles were hard up against my hips. I continued rising upward, hanging
forwards slightly with my wrists above and behind my head. Then I stopped. It
was not an entirely uncomfortable position, with my weight primarily on my
ankles but supported by my arms as much as I could.
I swung there in my darkened world, wondering how long he would make me stay
like that. Without warning I was suddenly spinning and swinging on the pulley
rope. It was an unnerving feeling in the darkness beneath the hood. I gripped
the bar to which my wrists were chained and held on - not that there was any
danger of my getting loose. I mmmphed my protest from behind the rubber filling
my mouth and held there by the leather of the helmet, but to no avail. I began
to feel dizzy and had a terrible vision of trying to throw up with my mouth
blocked by the ball. That was when I was abruptly gripped by strong hands and
held still. My head was still reeling as Ash's hands began to rove over my
body. He was standing behind me, his arms encircling me and playing with my
breasts, stroking them and caressing them until my nipples became hard, before
pinching and twisting them until I cried out through the gag. Then his fingers
were down in my crotch, kneading and exploring, ferreting their way into my
private place and working a spell that I could not fight. I squirmed on my
chains and my breath became faster and uneven as my body started to give
uncontrollable spasms of pleasure. I could feel the tension start to build up
and I found myself unconsciously trying to thrust against the probing fingers as
they undermined all my resolution to be strong and resist such advances.
One hand came between my legs from behind, cupping my sex and pulling it firmly
backwards, the fingers playing a vibrato against my clitoris. I shuddered as a
wave of pleasure slid upwards and a groan escaped from my throat. Somewhere in
the centre of my loins a tidal force was starting to build up and there was
nothing I could do to prevent it. I was panting now, preparing myself for the
onslaught when suddenly the fingers were gone, and instead the hands were
gripping me by the thighs.
I was pulled backwards, my legs parting against the nakedness of Ash's body.
But it was not my pussy that was to receive the coup de grace that I realised I
desired so desperately. Ash penetrated my butt hole, causing me to cry out with
the unexpected pain. I had not been prepared for this, nor had my anal muscles.
He was well-lubed but I needed to consciously relax myself. The contrast
between anticipation and reality was stark, and I hung there as he plunged back
and forth inside me, his arms now wrapped about my upper body and gripping my
nipples as anchor points.
This was Ash at his subtle best, teasing to appoint of frustration and
expectation, then denying me and having his own, totally opposite way. It hurt,
despite my best efforts, and was made more painful by Ash's ministrations on my
breasts. He finally came, thrusting hard inside me and trapping my body in a
bear hug that all but left me winded. I could hear his harsh panting in my ears
as he spent himself then roughly exited, leaving me defiled and hanging in my
chains. This, it seemed, was to be the price I was paying to experience the
world outside.
* * *
Despite yet another event to add to the list of humiliations I was being
subjected to, with the mental notes being added to in my head, I was excited
with the expectation of being able to go outside. Childishly excited, you might
say, as though by an outing to the beach or the movies. Simple things now
seemed to take on unrealistic significance in my life. In the back of my mind
this distortion of reality worried me, but I knew I had to remain focussed on
finding some method of escape, and the only way to do this was to remain
obedient and look for the unguarded moment.
Ash returned perhaps an hour after fucking me in the arse. I was still hooded
and gagged, with the hood locked to my steel collar. I heard the door open and
raised my head from where I had been lying on the mattress where he'd finally
left me, curled up in a ball, trying to shut out the painful experience I had
just undergone.
"Come, Jan," said the cheerful voice. "It's time for your exercise." I swung
my legs off the edge of the bed and stood up, waiting for instructions. "Before
you go outside, you should put some suntan cream on - it's quite warm today. We
don't want that lovely skin of yours getting all red and sore, do we." He
laughed. "That would take away all my fun." A pause. "Or perhaps it would add to
it... What do you think?" I shook my head vehemently but made no sound. "Very
well, well be sun-smart. You have your hat already. Slap on some cream, but
you'll have to do without a shirt." Again, the sniggering. A small tube was
placed in my hand. "I'll do your back, Jan - you can do the rest. Gee, I'm so
good to you."
The cream was cold on my back and shoulders. When Ash's hands had finished
their work, completed with a few gratuitous smearing strokes across my breasts,
I was left to complete the job. I did this as best I could given my restraints,
which meant squatting down so that I could reach all parts of my body. I had
never sunbathed naked - this was going to be another first, I thought grimly. I
stood up and felt the click of a lead attached to the front D-ring on my collar.
Apprehensively I followed the tug.
I walked gingerly. Being blind and gagged was bad enough, but being unable to
stretch my arms out in front made it all the more scary. I scraped the
doorframe in passing through, then went only a few steps further before there
was obviously another - exterior - door. I felt the breeze through it and,
following Ash's directions, I stepped down from the concrete slab on to a
rougher surface which I took to be a path. A few paces beyond this I was
standing on grass with the sun warming my skin and the faint wind making the
hairs ruffle on my arms.
I felt more confident on the grass, although I had no idea what might exist for
me to fall over or walk into. There were no more instructions and I simply
followed the pull on the lead, trusting in my jailor to let me know if there was
some obstacle ahead of me.
"Sit here for a minute, Jan," the voice commanded. I did so, kneeling on the
grass, which appeared to be relatively long. Obviously it was not getting mown
often. I savoured the feel of it and listened for the sounds of civilisation.
Somewhere in the distance I could hear occasional cars on a road, but other than
that the world was silent save for the sounds of nature - the wind, a few crows
and other birds. I made out the screech of a lorikeet as it winged overhead.
Somewhere nearby a kookaburra appeared to be laughing at my predicament. But it
still felt so glorious to be outside. The scent of grass overcame the
ever-present smell of the leather helmet to the extent that I almost forgot the
chains on my wrists and ankles.
"Let's be clear about why you're here, Jan," said a voice beside my head. I
hadn't heard Ash approach on the grass. "It's for exercise, not for leisure.
Things are now ready for you. Stand up!"
God, I thought. What was he hatching for me now? I followed the tug on the
lead for a few metres then he stopped me. I was then pulled forward just enough
to make contact with the cold steel of a post set in the ground.
"Know what that is?" I shook my head. "Yes you do, Jan - don't be dense. It's
a Hills hoist - your standard Aussie clothesline, that every backyard has. Oh,
but of course - I forgot, you're English. You've nearly lost your accent - did
you realise that?" Again he laughed. Very funny, I thought. You'll keep.
"The clothesline rotates, Jan. Normally with just the wind. But in this
instance I've fitted a small electric motor at the top of the pole, just under
the horizontal arms above you. When I turn it on, the arms will rotate like a
capstan. Not fast, you understand, but consistently. They will provide you with
the motivation for your exercise, mainly because you'll be attached to one of
them..."
Oh shit, I thought, my mind leaping ahead but still not appreciating what it all
meant. He drew me away from the central pole and stopped me obviously under one
of the ends of the four arms. The lead was removed from my collar but was
followed moments later by a biting pain in my left nipple as a large steel clip
latched on to it. My right one was similarly secured seconds afterwards. I
whined into the ball filling my mouth. Then there was the faint sound of a
motor and a tug on my breasts. I moved in the direction of the pull and found
myself slowly walking around in a big circle, following the tireless rotation of
the clothesline. The bastard! I would have to keep this up unless I wanted my
nips pulled off, for the clips were painful and I knew they would not slip off
without major pain and suffering. To make matters worse, the clothesline was
situated on a slight slope, which meant I had to speed up on the downward side
as the cord holding the clips was stretched tighter because of the greater
distance from the bar.
"See you in a while, Jan," was the cheery farewell.
Yes, you will keep, I thought through gritted teeth. I'll save something very
special for you, Mr Ash.
* * *
I plodded round and round the clothesline for what seemed like an afternoon.
There was no let up to the pain in my nipples other than the decrease into a
dull ache as long as I kept slightly ahead of the pull of the cords. After some
difficulty I finally got my direction right and managed to maintain a constant
anti-clockwise gait. The diameter of the clothesline was big enough so that I
didn't get dizzy, but it still required some degree of concentration.
The afternoon - I had decided that it was indeed after noon - was warm and
muggy. I was hungry, for I had not eaten since what I guessed had been
breakfast. The sweat rolled down my body as I trudged around like a donkey
threshing wheat or working a well. Except that the donkey would normally be
pulling a load. In this case I was the load being pulled. In the
leather-encased sweatbox that was my head, perspiration ran into and stung my
eyes and I was becoming very thirsty and dehydrated. At some stage during my
ordeal I must have slipped into my subspace realm, where the pain finally faded
and I became detached from reality, placing one foot after the other in an
unthinking and uncomprehending movement.
At some stage I began to stumble - initially infrequently but soon more often.
With each faltering the clips pulled fiercely at my nipples and I was jerked out
of my torpid state by the pain. For the umpteenth time I tried to get my hands
on the clips, but the need to keep walking kept my wrists firmly pulled down to
my hips. If only I could have stopped I would have raised a leg long enough to
get some slack to reach the hated steel jaws, but I did not have even a second's
respite from the onward movement.
Whether Ash was watching and saw my tired, more frequent stumbling I don't know.
I only know that suddenly I had caught up with the cords towing me and they were
against my head and over my shoulders. I halted, realising I was woozy and
almost ready to faint. Hands removed the clips none to gently and I could not
help but emit a muffled scream from the pain as the blood returned. I was led
back to the house and found myself in my prison again, with the hood unlocked
from around my neck. I had barely the strength to remove it and extract the
ball from my mouth then totter to the shower where I drank my fill and let the
water cool what I knew would be very sore flesh, despite the preventative
measures of the suntan cream. Dinner was waiting for me - cold pasta and two
bananas which I wolfed down, before falling exhausted on the bed. I wondered if
going outside was all it was cracked up to be...
* * *
It was the next day, as near as I could judge from the meals and Ash's change of
clothing, when he suggested another outside visit. I must have looked unhappy,
and I was, for my nipples were still painful and tender from the workout they
had received the previous day. I was also very stiff from the unaccustomed
exercise. I did not want another repetition of the same treatment, but I didn't
dare voice an objection. That probably would have guaranteed I would receive
it, with interest.
"Relax, Jan, you'll enjoy the day - clear skies and the sounds of nature. You
have to suffer to enjoy things - you know that. For every treat there has to be
a sacrifice, and of course vice versa. Those are the rules." By that logic,
and after what I had just endured, I reckoned I was due some pleasure, and my
spirits perked up somewhat. That optimistic outlook died somewhat when Ash
picked up the leather discipline helmet hanging from the tap in the shower. I
had washed it after use, since it was soaked with my perspiration. He tossed it
over to me, followed by the sponge ball. "Get dressed, Jan," he ordered,
grinning. I knew it was all part of his plan, getting me to deprive myself of
sight and sound - part of his gradual dehumanisation and domination of my will
to resist. Resignedly I worked the ball into my mouth and pulled the hood over
my head. It was still damp and felt cool against my skin. I could not do it up
and had to turn my back to him as he pulled the laces tight down the back before
covering the knot with the locking flap.
"Very good. Now, here's the cream - it's a sunny day again. Don't want you to
be a cancer victim, do we." The tube was placed in my hand and I duly squatted
and began to rub it over my legs, working my way over as much of my body as I
could reach - my legs, buttocks, torso arms and breasts and some of my
shoulders.
Contrary to my expectations from the previous outing, the suntan cream had done
its job and I was not a mass of tenderised flesh. In this instance, I was
almost complete when something struck me as odd. By the time I reached my
breasts and shoulders I noticed the smell of the ointment seemed different - not
the normal suntan cream smell I had noticed the day before. It was just as I
finished that I started to feel the slight tingling sensation starting on my
legs.
"We have a makeover to do before we go outside today," Ash announced, pushing me
gently backwards so that I sat on the edge of the bed. "Legs spread!" I did
so, wondering what he meant, and not being surprised when the spreader bar was
locked in place, with the leather ankle cuffs just below the steel ones
connected to my wrist chains. With the spreader fully extended in place I could
bend my knees very little, so it had the indirect but very effective result that
my hands remained tethered to my hip rings.
Around then not only were my legs starting to tingle but my backside was
beginning to burn where I was sitting on it. I suddenly had the feeling that I
had not smeared suntan lotion on my body. Ash pulled me to my feet.
"Let me do your back and shoulders now."
I whined at him, shaking my head and mmmphing a muffled protest.
"Stop complaining, girl. You'll thank me for this when the sun is out." He
began rubbing my back between the waist and shoulders where I had been unable to
reach. I tried to shake him off, grunting and mewing behind the ball lodged in
my mouth and held in place by the leather mask.
"What? What are you saying girl?"
"Mmmnnph! Nnp! Nphhmn!" I explained vainly.
"Ohhhh... Have I given you the wrong cream?" Something in Ash's unconvincing
rhetorical question told me he had known exactly what he had given me. "Oh
dear. You're right." This after he had coincidentally just finished the job.
"I'm sorry, Jan , but we seem to have just given you a very thorough
muscle-toning rub with Finalgon, not Coppertone..."
"Hhhnn??!" I exclaimed, not believing my ears. Shit! Finalgon was about the
strongest, most potent liniment-type ointment I had come across in my years as a
nurse. It burned like fire and was normally used sparingly on 'affected parts'.
I had just covered my whole body with it!
"Nnnnn!" I wailed into the mouth-filling ball.
"Well, it'll do your muscles good," Ash smirked. "You'll probably need it after
all the exercise you did yesterday. First there are some things I need to do.
Stand still!" I did so, but the irritating spreading warmth over my skin was
starting to make itself felt already. My wondering what Ash was up to was
quickly answered when he seized a handful of my hair, where it protruded beyond
the neck collar of the discipline helmets, and promptly cut it off. In a matter
of seconds my hair lost fifteen centimetres, trimmed back to the bottom of the
leather.
"This was getting in the way, Jan. You need a more upmarket image, I think -
something a little sophisticated. Now for the remainder." Again I was pushed on
to the bed. This time with my legs held by the spreader bar I fell helplessly
on my back. He picked up the bar and dragged me wholly on to the mattress so
that my torso was parallel with and close to the edge.
I did not know what he was up to, nor was I enlightened at all when, moments
later some sort of plastic sheet was laid over the top of my thighs and my
stomach. There followed the sound of snipping and I realised that my crotch had
been exposed through the plastic like one being prepared for surgery. I whined
in dread - God, what was he going to do to me now?
His intentions soon became apparent. He had placed the plastic there merely to
protect himself from the Finalgon now about to cause me what I knew would be a
lot of discomfort, to put it mildly. It seemed he was in fact intent on shaving
my pussy. While I had never done this myself, I considered I could live with
it, providing it did not lead to anything more sinister.
I tried to lie still while he cut away the main part of my little thatch with
scissors, then spread what I assumed was a depilatory cream over the stubble.
It wasn't long before my nakedness had been enhanced and despite my initial
acceptance of it, the psychological aspect somehow depressed me further. Again,
it was all part of his plan, I knew. But however many times I told myself this,
and however many times I recognised it for what it was, this did not seem to
make it any the less effective in subliminally undermining my will to resist.
As I lay there during the process I could feel the Finalgon starting to take
effect on my back, buttocks and on the backs of my legs. Finalgon has a nasty
habit of increasing its effect as the skin heats up, kind of like a vicious
circle. The skin pressed against the mattress warmed quickly, and with it the
sensation of burning, like the worst case of sunburn you can imagine. I groaned
behind the ball. At length Ash finished his work and washed down my pussy,
wiping it clean of hair. The cold water felt good, for I knew the skin around
it would be red and inflamed where I had endeavoured to protect it with 'suntan'
cream.
I felt Ash remove himself from where he was leaning over me on the bed. His
hand briefly stroked my now naked pussy, toying with it fleetingly. But I think
he sensed my plight in that no matter what he did the Finalgon would outweigh
any potential arousal he might seek to conjure up, and the exploration ceased.
"Change of plan, my dear," he announced. "Probably best if you don't go outside
today, in your condition. I'll leave two keys in here - one for your helmet and
one for the cuffs on the spreader bar. They'll be on the floor somewhere. Find
them, and you can make yourself rather more comfortable. It will give you
something to pass the time doing."
I heard a couple of faint tinkles, like steel on concrete, before the door
closed with its ominous finality.
Bastard, I thought. Bastard bastard bastard! I was willing to bet he'd planned
this from scratch. Our Ash was too methodical to be spontaneous.
I lay there for some minutes, thinking about my plight, but the burning was
starting to become really intense on all surfaces resting on the plastic of the
mattress, where the heat was being trapped. The rest of my skin was now
becoming hot, with my nipples in particular hurting as though they had been
clamped.
I tested the fixing on the spreader bar. There was little slack in the cuffs -
barely enough to allow me to turn my ankles slightly. They were more widely
spread than I had experienced in the past, and were already starting to be
pretty uncomfortable, stretching the insides of my thighs and straining my hip
joint. I worked my way to the edge of the bed. It was amazing how restricted
the bar made leg movement and hence my body as a whole. I reasoned I would have
to end up sitting on the floor. Either on my front or my back was going to be
very uncomfortable. I opted for the latter as the less bad of the two and
worked my way until my heels were on the floor, before gingerly sliding over the
edge. The fact that the bed was bolted to the floor at least stopped it sliding
backwards away from me, and I slid none too gently to land on my rump on the
concrete. It was cool against the burning in my buttocks, but I guessed my
movements were soon going to change all that.
I confirmed with some experimentation that I could barely bend my knees at all
in the sitting position, so wide were my legs apart. But by hunching my
shoulders and bending my head down I could just create enough slack in the
chains to be able to reach the lock on the hood. It was going to be a long
morning, I realised.
And it was. I tried to do a systematic coverage of the room, going first around
the walls, keeping one foot against them as I worked my way backwards using my
hands and my elbows. The Finalgon had really taken hold now, and my whole body
seemed to be on fire. My skin was burning up - especially the areas now in
contact with the floor, not to mention my nipples and the fringes of my newly
shaved pussy. Over and above this was the ache in my hips and legs where they
were stretched wide, and the load on my wrists and elbows as I moved only inch
by inch with the little slack I could conjure from the chains. I was panting
and moaning continuously with the pain from the Finalgon. I knew it would
probably do me no harm, but that was really precious little comfort under the
circumstances.
As I strained with the movement, so I sweated as well, and of course as my skin
temperature rose so too did the effect of the Finalgon, and the vicious cycle
increased. I completed a circuit of the room, identifying my position with
reference to the toilet and the bed, but encountered no keys. I lay on my back,
my breathing hoarse and my blood pounding in my ears. I was frustrated and in
agony from the ointment, but I knew I had to continue unless I wanted to be like
this all day, or all night - or however long Ash wanted me to suffer. If I
could only find that key I knew I could get into the shower and actually use the
cold water to my benefit, for once.
I started to tire. I suspected Ash was playing games with the heating again. I
began having to lie back more often as I progressed, and each time it became
hard to sit up again. My buttocks seemed to be white hot, like the worst case
of sunburn imaginable, made more excruciating as I dragged myself across the
floor inch by inch. At one stage I became disoriented and ended up against my
bed again, in tears at my failure. I tried again, but it was perhaps ten
minutes before I felt the clink of a key under one leg. I manoeuvred myself
until I could reach it with my hand and picked it up. I curled myself forward
until I could just reach the lock at my throat, fiddling with it and praying it
was the right key. It wasn't. It had to be the key to the ankle cuffs - always
assuming it wasn't a phoney key left by Ash just to goad me. Nothing he did
surprised me any more.
Reaching the ankle cuff was an act of contortion that left the muscles of my
arms, legs and chest verging on cramp. I bent my legs as much as I could -
which was pretty limited - and then did a cross between a sit-up and a sideways
bend, forcing my right ankle and wrist towards each other. The lock was on the
outside of my ankle, and after some fiddling about by feel, the key slid into
the lock and it clicked open. The relief was tangible and I slumped back for
ten seconds. That was as long as it took for my burning skin to remind me of
its predicament, forcing me to again assume the position and unbuckle the strap
on my right ankle.
Freeing that one ankle essentially freed my whole body. I could now sit up,
bend my legs, and have plenty of slack in my chains to undo the other ankle with
the same key. I could have scrabbled around on my hands and knees looking for
the key to my collar, but I was by now whimpering to myself continuously with
the pain from the ointment and I was desperate to get under the shower. I did
not care that I was still hooded and gagged - I simply wanted relief from the
fire on my flesh.
I stood under the shower not caring if the leather helmet got wet, just
savouring the coolness of the water as it flowed over my body. I lathered up as
much as I could tolerate and endeavoured to wash off the remaining ointment.
Hot water would have made a better job of it, but that would have been a
catch-22 situation of course. Always assuming I even had hot water, that is. I
stayed there for maybe half an hour before finally getting out and making a more
reasoned search of the room for the second key. I found it, under the chair,
and proceeded to remove the discipline helmet with another wave of relief. Ash
had even left the lights on this time, and I could view myself in the
full-length mirror bolted to the wall behind the sheet of perspex. My skin was
red and inflamed-looking over the whole of my body save my head. My hair, now
cut to just above the shoulder was predictably damp and straggly. I returned to
the shower to wash it and further cool my skin. It was to become the pattern
for that day.
* * *
The burning heat lasted most of the day, so strong was the Finalgon. During the
night I occasionally awoke with the persistent but dulled fire on some parts of
my skin. Some of the ointment had remained on the plastic covering the
mattress, and with a huge effort I had managed to turn the mattress over so as
not to make further contact with any residue. Nevertheless, wherever my skin
touched the plastic, and natural body heat was trapped, so too did the last
remnants of that terrible ointment make themselves felt.
Ash had appeared late (I reckoned) with dinner. I had noticed a more regular
pattern in his visits of late, which was confirmed by the time I had been
outside. Then it had been afternoon, and it had fitted with the meals I had
been receiving. I got fed only twice a day, I estimated - morning and evening.
The morning fare was usually fruit and bread - maybe with jam or vegemite if I
was lucky, while 'dinner' comprised pasta or some sort of stew which I ate with
a spoon. It was not haute cuisine, that was for sure, and my reflection
indicated - not surprisingly - that I had lost considerable weight.
Dinner in this instance was shepherds pie with peas and beans - both obviously
out of a packet. Accompanying them was a video. Ash said nothing, just opened
the door and shoved the tray in before leaving. I still wore the collar chain
attached to the post and it was currently at such a length that I had to lie on
the floor and stretch out my arm to where the tray was placed inside the door.
I guess that was Ash's little reminder of my vulnerability, and that whatever
concessions he offered, they were just that, and able to be withdrawn at the
slightest transgression on my part or the merest whim on his.
The video was nothing special - a Czech film he had recorded on SBS - but it was
a luxury for me to be able to curl up on the bed and lose myself in the outside
world, forgetting my trials and torments and the uncertain future that I faced.
* * *
Ash was apologetic the next day - tongue in cheek, that is.
"What happened with the ointment was most regrettable," he explained. "I'll
make sure it doesn't happen again." He paused. "Unless of course you disobey
me or cause any sort of trouble." His voice was steely and matched the coldness
of his eyes. "The memory is obviously fresh in your mind Jan. You realise that
I am doing what is best for you, and that you must understand that privileges
have to be earned - they are not yours of right. Can you imagine yesterday's
treatment supplemented with a flogging? Then another application of the
Finalgon? Just think about that. Think about clamps on your nipples after they
have been massaged with Finalgon... Think about your behaviour again. Bear the
possible consequences in mind and consider whether you would be strong enough to
withstand them."
"Would you like to go outside today, Jan?"
"Will it hurt, sir?" I asked fearfully, and after the last two days my fear was
very real. I did not trust Ash one iota. Every so-called concession he made
came at a price, and I was not sure whether I still had some more instalments on
this little jaunt.
"No, Jan, you've earned this one. An hour in the sun - take your book and the
suntan cream - the real stuff. I'm not a monster, you know." He grinned, but
my return smile I knew was faint and tremulous.
I scarcely dared to believe what was happening - I was going to get my first
sight of the outside world in what must have been over a month now. I had
estimated my period of captivity as being close to five weeks, as near as I
could, judging from the patterns in Ash's behaviour, his clothes, the food, and
anything else I could use for benchmarking my incarceration.
The day was hot and humid, the temperature probably around thirty degrees,
typical of Brisbane in February. Ash had locked a chain to my collar and locked
the other end of it around the trunk of a jacaranda tree that dominated the back
yard before he returned to the house. I sat in the shade, too excited to read,
eager to understand my surroundings and to try to work out where I was and to
identify any possibility for escape.
My immediate reaction was at once positive and negative. There did not seem to
be any totally insurmountable fences or walls bordering the place, but some
looked pretty difficult if I had to scale them chained as I was. The back lawn
was large - perhaps twenty metres by forty, sloping gently away from the house.
The garden was predominantly along the boundary of the lawn, with a number of
mature gum trees also defining the perimeter, behind which a wire mesh fence
maybe a metre and a half high was visible. Beyond that there just seemed to be
more bush. There were no signs of other houses where the inhabitants might be
able to see or hear me - but I should have expected that. Good old Ash wasn't
going to let me out to put on a show for the neighbours, that was for sure.
While I was disappointed at the lack of habitation, I was heartened at the bush
surrounding the place. It looked like Ash's place backed on to some sort of
reserve or forest park. I could see hills which were not too distant - maybe a
kilometre away - and there was no sign of development there. I was rapidly
coming to the conclusion that I was on an acreage property somewhere out to the
west of Brisbane.
The house itself was a pretty ordinary thing - it looked like it had been moved
here and installed on steel posts to provide for the blockwork room underneath
that was now my home. Of timber with a rusty corrugated iron roof, the house
was one of those nineteen fifties efforts that were remarkable only for their
small windows and general lack of imagination. I guessed it might have been a
state house now relocated - the kind you can pick up for fifty or sixty grand
from the yard where they advertise them, delivered to your land. It could do
with a coat of paint, but was otherwise unremarkable. I could only see the back
and one side. A set of enclosed stairs ran down the back wall into a small
lobby which had an external door giving on to the back lawn. This lobby also
contained the door to my dungeon, I had just found out, the key to which Ash
kept on his key ring.
I spent the hour just gazing about the garden, not even opening my book. The
grass was quite long and matched the state of the rest of the garden - overgrown
and unkempt. It was warm and pleasant in the shade of the jacaranda, and even
the chains on my body were forgotten as I eagerly took in the garden vista,
memorising the layout and the location of each tree, the clothesline, the
pathway, the fence, and the bush beyond. On the side of the house that was
visible to me was a timber fence about my height, running at right angles from
the front corner of the house to the side boundary, effectively cutting off the
back yard from any prying eyes. Adjacent to the house there was a timber gate in
the fence, which I had no doubt was locked. I doubted that I could climb the
fence in my chained state, never mind the fact that I would have to free myself
of my neck chain before I could even think that far ahead. Suddenly there
appeared to be hope in my life, as long as I didn't blow it. My resolve
strengthened to be the most demure and subservient slave possible, while in the
deepest recesses of my mind I planned my escape.
* * *
