The lady stepped into the darkened room and paused momentarily to survey the scene. To her satisfaction everything appeared to be arranged exactly as she’d requested. Once again Mr. and Mrs. Smith had excelled themselves.

It was a large open room, square in shape with high vaulted ceilings. Black ceiling to floor drapes obscured the windows, and from what little that could be seen of the walls in the gloom, they were plain and untroubled by any pictures or decoration. The floor was polished wood, a tightly woven parquet floor of rich mahogany. The only light was from a trio of bright spotlights illuminating the center of the room, their beams overlapping on the floor to create a stage like setting for her performance. In the center of this stage was a heavy wooden chair, along with a low side table for her tools and equipment. And next to the chair was the cage.

She strode forward, her high heeled boots clicking against the hard wood floor. Reaching the lit area she dropped her bag next to the table and bent to look into the cage. A pair of frightened eyes peered back at her. The cage itself wasn’t particularly large, around 4 feet square and 3 feet high, but it was of a heavy industrial construction. The bars were thick steel, welded at 2 inch intervals to the heavy metal plates that formed  the top and bottom. One entire side functioned as a door, hung from a crude hinge and held shut with an enormous padlock. It looked strong enough to contain a gorilla, let alone the young girl that was its current occupant.

The lady straightened, stepped back from the cage, and began to remove the long top coat that she wore. Underneath it she was wearing a simple white silk blouse tucked into a tight black skirt. Her figures was slim and her breasts stretched and pulled against the tight fabric of the blouse as she wriggled free of the coat. She was tall and this fact was emphasized by her long black boots, each of them a complex column of laces, buckles and leather. Her hair was black and pulled up into a bun on the back of her head, skewered into place by two dark wooden chopsticks. In contrast to her coal dark hair, her skin was pale and milky, and offset with just a few delicate traces of makeup around the mouth and eyes. In particular she’d emphasized her lips, using a blood red gloss to create a striking contrast to her otherwise monochrome appearance.

Turning from the center of the room she turned to look at the rooms three other occupants. They were all positioned at the edge of the room, looking into the scene she was about to unfold for them. Seated in a large comfortable chair, his features almost lost in the shadows, was Mr. Smith. He was a tall distinguished gentleman, dressed in a smart suit and sporting salt and pepper grey hair, looking like the quintessential CEO that she knew him to be. She also knew that he was the father of the girl in the cage.

Seated next to him was his wife, a blonde haired beauty considerably younger than he was. He’d remarried after his first wife died a few years ago, taking on the stereotypically trophy wife expected of rich men in those circumstances. And where Mr. Smith looked to be relaxed and at ease, sitting back in his chair, arms at rest on the sides, the new Mrs. Smith was leaning forward, wrapped up in the scene. Her lips were slightly parted, the tip of her tongue periodically running across them, and her eyes gleaming with excitement.

The final occupant of the room the lady knew only as Jim. He functioned as bodyguard and butler to Mr. Smith. Heavyset, with a blunt square face and a close shaved head of hair, he looked more like a nightclub bouncer than a CEO’s assistant. He was standing between and slightly behind the two chairs, ready to assist if help were needed, and to enjoy the show if it wasn’t.

After handing Jim her coat, the lady crossed the room to Mrs. Smith and wordlessly held out her hand. With a smile the blonde reached for the gold necklace around her neck, and after fiddling for a moment with the clasp, pulled it free. Smiling in the direction of her step-daughter in the cage she held the necklace up, the key to the cage’s padlock clearly visible looped through the twisted golden rope, dangling freely for the lady to take.

Returning to the cage with the key, the lady crouched and unlocked its door. The girl inside shifted nervously.

“Out,” the lady commanded. “And stand up.”

The cage door creaked open and the girl inside slowly crept out. As she stood she kept her gaze firmly to the ground and crossed her hands in front of herself in an effort to cover what she could of her naked body. The lady slowly circled the girl inspecting her body and looking to see if the damage from her last visit had healed properly.

The girl was thin, almost waif like, with delicate features and a cute little snub nose. The lady knew her to be 17 years old, but she was easily mistaken for someone much younger. Her breasts were underdeveloped, little A cups with small dark nipples, and her arms and legs still possessed the awkward ungainliness of the early teenage years. She was a brunette, and her long straight hair cascaded loosely around her face to her shoulders. Below the neck she was hairless, clean shaved, and her little slit was clearly visible, an inviting crease between her legs. At a little over 5 feet tall she wasn’t particularly short for her age, but the lady with her high heeled boots towered above her.

When Mr. Smith had first approached her several months ago she’d initially rejected the idea of getting involved with his daughter. For one thing she’d look too young, and for another she had no desire to be arrested for abusing an unwilling victim. But presentation of a birth certificate had laid to rest the first issue, and several interviews with the daughter had soothed her conscious on the second. She was clearly an intelligent girl, shy but curious about her sexuality and keen, almost desperate it seemed, to explore what was clearly a very submissive nature. The lady had therefore promised to help her do exactly that - taking her on a yearlong journey over which the girl would have little control.

That was three months ago. As the lady circled her victim, running a hand over the fading bruises of their last session together, she wondered if the trip was unfolding as previously imagined. Probably not, she decided. For one thing her parents had taken to the project with a gleeful sadism that had surprised them all. The step mother in particular seemed to be enjoying it, filling the time between visits from the lady with a steady diet of sexual humiliation for her new daughter. And where she might have expected mercy from her father, he seemed to be positively reveling in watching her suffer. It was clearly going to be a long painful journey for the girl, and the lady wondered exactly what was going to be left of her when she emerged on the far side.

Finishing with the inspection she turned to her bag and began pulling out lengths of rope.

“Sit in the chair,” she said. “Arms flat and straight along the arm rests. Legs wide”

Silently the girl moved to the chair. In was positioned under the spot lights, facing towards her parents in the shadows beyond. Their eyes roamed across her naked body as she sat and spread herself open, but she kept her head down and didn’t return their gaze. Working quickly and efficiently the lady began to tie her down. The arms were fastened first, loops of rope around the wrist and below the elbow, fixing her lower arms along the flat arms of the chair. Next was the chest, loops of rope passed above and below her small breasts, wrapping around the chair back. The lady took the opportunity to gently pinch and squeeze the girl’s nipples, bringing them instantly to firm aroused points. Finally, the legs was tied in place, each ankle pulled painfully to the outside of a chair leg before the rope was applied. This maximized the tension in the legs and fully exposed her pussy to the small but rapt audience.

The lady returned to her bag and began to lay out equipment from it on the small table to the side of the chair. The girl stared silently at each item as it was carefully positioned on the table, each of them aligned as a surgeon might align his tools. She knew that each item had been carefully chosen to inflict pain and suffering on her, to make her scream for the satisfaction of others: A box of sterilized needles; A pair of wooden boards with a number of drilled holes through them; Leather laces; A band of blue material with an odd piece of curved metal attached;  A spider gag;

Moving behind the girl the lady bent over her, bringing their heads cheek to cheek and snaking her hands over the front of her immobilized body. She nuzzled her neck and face while one hand caressed a now bullet like nipple and the other hand slipped lower into the girl’s crotch.

“Look up and stare at your mother,”  she told the girl. The woman in the chair opposite was already on the edge of her seat, transfixed by the unfolding scene, and as her adopted daughter looked up into her eyes, she slipped one hand into her panties and began to slowly masturbate.

The lady began to work the girl in the same way, two fingers slipping back and forwards on what was an increasingly moist slit. As she slipped a finger inside the girl she could sense the girl’s arousal increase, her breathing coming faster and a low moan escaping her throat. For a minute or two she kept the stimulation up, the girl’s breath turning into a rapid panting, her gaze locked on her step-mother across the room. Then suddenly the lady straightened and pulled away, leaving the girl’s hips to buck and twist in frustration. The ladies fingers were now coated with the moisture from the girl’s pussy, and she cleaned them by casually wiping them across the girl’s face and hair.

Moving to the table of equipment the lady took one of the wooden boards and slipped it beneath the girl’s hand. The end of the board was pushed between the chair arm and the girl’s wrist, with the hand flat and palm down against the board. As the lady grabbed several of the leather laces and began to thread them through the board, the pattern of holes in the board suddenly became clear. Each finger was surrounded by several pairs of holes and, as the laces wound back and forth over the fingers, the hand was slowly fixed into place. By the time the lady had finished both hands were held beneath a taut web of leather, every finger tightly outstretched and unable to as much as twitch.

Crouching in front of the increasingly nervous girl the lady reached for the first of her needles and held it up for the girl to see.

“I’m sure you’ve figured out what I’m going to do with this.”, she told the girl. “Always good to fall back to the classics now and again. And agonizingly painful of course. I’m looking forward to hearing your screams for this, as I think they’ll be particularly delightful.”

Carefully she aligned the needle with the nail on the little finger on the girl’s left hand, and then looked up at her with a smile. Gently she slid the needle home, pushing it deep into the delicate pad of tissue under the nail. The girl threw her head back and screamed, a high pitched wail that sent a shiver of pleasure through the lady. With a smile she wiggled the needle slightly and pushed it home a little further, triggering another scream. The muscles in the girl’s arm and hand were twitching, trying to pull her away from the pain, but the ropes and leather laces didn’t allow even a millimeter of movement.

The girl was now muttering to herself “No, no, no” and shaking her head back and forth. She kept this up, stopping only to scream, as the lady worked her way through all the fingers on her left hand. With each fresh needle the same pattern was followed, after carefully aligning it so the point was barely pricking the skin, the lady would look up at girl and smile before sliding the needle home.

When all five needles in place, each one jutting out from beneath a nail, the lady stopped and resumed her previous position standing behind the girl. Her hands roamed over the girl’s body, one squeezing her breasts and the other slipping between her legs. She kissed the side of her face and gently hugged her, enjoying the nervous tremors she could still feel coursing through her young body. As she began to work her fingers between the girl’s legs, she whispered into the girl’s ear.

“We still need to do the other hand of course.”  The girl moaned and shook her head at this. “And I’d like you to ask me very nicely to insert each and every needle. I want to hear you beg me to push the needles in.”

“No,” moaned the girl. “I can’t. Please stop.”

The lady said nothing, but increased the speed of her hand movement, fingering the girl more aggressively. She slipped her left hand from the girl’s breasts, and slid it down her arm, delicately barely brushing the skin. Her hand came to rest overlapping the girl’s tortured hand, each of the lady’s fingers poised by one of the needles. The girl was unaware of the change, so completely focused was she on the pleasurable sensations rippling from her pussy. Without any warning, and without breaking the rhythm of the pussy fingering,  the lady squeezed the needles, pushing them deeper under the girl’s fingernails. The resulting scream was the loudest yet, and like music to the ladies ears. Even before it had fully died away she had repeated the process, this time adding a little left to right wiggle, pushing the needles from side to side. With that added incentive the girl finally broke.

“No more. Please Mistress. Please. Put the needles into my other hand”, she sobbed.

“Well OK,” replied the lady with a sigh. “If you really want that. But which finger first? Should we do the little one first?”

As she said this she gently pushed on the needle in the girl’s little finger on the left hand, triggering more cries from the girl.

“Yes, yes mistress. Please mistress. Put a needle in that finger.”

“If you insist……”

Crouching down in front of the girl again the lady slowly worked through all five nails on the girls right hand. Each time she’d prompt the girl to beg for the appropriate finger by gently pressing on the matching needle in the left hand, and each time the girl would beg for the next insertion, intermingled with her sobs and cries.

When all ten needles were in place the lady stepped back to admire her work. The girl was gently panting, her body damp with sweat, her head down and face obscured by her cascading brown hair. By the last few needles it even seemed like she’d begun to adapt to the pain, learn to ride it out and accept it. She really did have the makings of an excellent submissive.

Returning to her collection of equipment the lady picked up the band of blue material with the oddly shaped metal attachment that had puzzled the girl earlier. Standing behind her, she wrapped the band around the girl’s throat, looping the free end over the curved metal piece that was positioned to the right side. The band was a snug fit around the girl’s thin throat, but not constricting.  Having arranged things to her satisfaction, the lady once leant over the girl from behind and began to caress her.

“This is what is called a garrote,” she whispered into her ear. “If I turn the metal handle it’ll twist the material tighter and limit your breathing. The more turns of the handle, the less you breath. Too many turns for too long and, well you can probably guess the result of that…….”

The lady began to finger the girl and discovered that she was already highly aroused, her pussy slick and slippery with her juices. Looking across the room at the girl’s father it was clear she wasn’t the only excited one. He’d unzipped his trousers and was now leisurely stroking his erect cock. With a big smile on his face, he was clearly enjoying the torment of his young daughter.

“I want you to look up and watch your father throughout this,” she told the girl. “If I see you look away I’ll tighten this up and leave you here. ”

Slowly the girl raised her head and stared across the room at her smiling Father. As she did so the lady gave two turns to the handle, tightening the band painfully around her throat. The girl gurgled slightly and began to struggle in the chair.

“Ssshhhh”, she whispered to her. “Don’t fight it. Just accept it. Focus on getting air in and out.”

This was the first time she’d done any breath control with the girl, and it was clearly a new and unpleasant experience for her. The lady knew that the trick was not to panic, but beneath her hands she could feel the girl’s body trying to thrash and escape, burning precious oxygen as it did. After 1 minute she relaxed the band, unwinding the handle, and the girl drew a big painful gulping breath.

“That was two turns at one minute,” she told the girl. “Shall we try for two minutes?”

Before the girl had time to respond she spun the handle again. As the girl dragged in painful breath after painful breath the ladies hands roamed across her body, squeezing and pinch her nipples, gently rubbing her engorged clit. Across the room her father continued to stroke himself, staring deeply into his daughters panic filled eyes.

This cycle was repeated again and again, the lady playing with the duration and the number of turns of the handle. She played the girl’s body like an instrument, punishing it with the garrote while pleasuring it with her hands. After trying 2, 3 and then 4 turns of the handle she figured the limit for the girl would be 5 turns. That would almost completely cut off her oxygen whilst still avoiding  permanent damage to her throat.

“We’re going to try 5 turns now,” she whispered to the girl. “I think that’ll be just enough. Maybe I’ll leave it like that”

“No! Daddy, please, help me!” the girl cried out in panic. “Daddy! Don’t let her….”

Her cries were suddenly silenced with a choking noise as the lady spun the handle 5 complete revolutions.

“Mr. Smith,” she called out. “I’d estimate that your daughter has around 2 minutes of consciousness left unless the garrote is released. Longer than that she’ll pass out and beyond that there will be a risk of brain injury. I’m going to keep her here like this, suffocating and in pain, until you ejaculate.”

For a moment Mr. Smith paused, his hand unmoving on his cock, and then he leaned forward, staring intently at his daughters flushed face, and resumed his gentle stroking. The lady stood watching behind the girl, her hands on the girl’s shoulders, feeling her twitching beneath her. If the girl had hoped he father would bring a quick end to her torment she was sadly mistaken. Even the lady was surprised by his sadism. He toyed with her, speeding up as if rising to a climax, and then slowing down again, savoring the moment, his hand barely moving as his daughter stared at him, her face getting darker and her eyes wider. 30 seconds passed. One minute. One minute thirty. Then, just when the lady was beginning to think he really was going to let his daughter pass out, with a groan he spurted several long streams of come onto the floor and fell back into his chair with a contented sigh. The lady instantly relaxed the garrote and the tortured girl began to suck in lungful after lungful precious oxygen, still staring across the room at her cruel Father.

After removing the garrote the lady also began to extract the needles, drawing each one out carefully to avoid damaging the nail itself. A dab out antiseptic solution was applied, which once again had the girl wriggling and moaning as it soaked into the needle holes. By the time the lady was done, with the boards beneath the hands also removed, the girl was looking up hopefully at her, optimistic that this might be the end of her suffering for the day. But the lady still had a couple of surprises left for her.

Picking up the spider gag from the table she held it up to the girl’s face, and automatically, with a resigned look in her eyes, the girl stretched her mouth as wide as possible to take it. The gag was similar to a ring gag in design, with a large metal circle that went between the teeth and a head strap for holding it in place. The spider design added a 4 curved metal rods for the outside of the mouth to prevent the gag rotating being the teeth. This particular gag had been carefully chosen after some experimentation at their last session together to find the maximum possible size the girl could handle. It painfully stretched her jaw muscles and the lady had to use considerable force to push it into place behind the girl’s teeth.

Once the gag had been fastened into place, with some care taken to ensure the girl’s hair was pulled up and over the gag’s strap and buckle, the lady returned to her bag for the surprise present she’d brought for the girl. It was a contained in a 1 liter clear plastic soda. A thick, white gloopy present.

“You might be able to guess what this is”, she began, sloshing the liquid slowly back and forth in front of the horrified girls face. “I have a friend who runs a brothel, and for the last week or so she’s had her girls collecting the used condoms and pouring them into here. There’s a little over a pint of semen in this bottle. The contents of 112 condoms according to their records. I figured after the garrote your throat might be a little sore, so I nice creamy soothing liquid should really help that out.”

“Nuuuuhhh”, said the girl through the gag, shaking her head violently from side to side. “Nuuuhhh!”

“You know I thought you might be a little ungrateful,” said the lady in a mock offended tone. “But it’s OK, I think I know how to avoid you being rude and rejecting such a thoughtful gift.”

Picking up a leather lace the lady moved behind the girl and began to gather her long brown hair into a ponytail. Then by winding the lace carefully around and through the ponytail, the lady slowly fashioned for herself a handle to control the girl’s head with. By the time she was done the lace was firmly attached in place, an integral part of the girl’s new hairstyle. Pulling the free end of the lace down, the girl’s head was stretched back, the lace tied off to the back of the chair only when the girl was looking up almost directly to the ceiling.

For the moment the girl could see almost nothing, blinded by the overhead spotlights. But then the lady’s head came into view, staring down into the girls eye’s as they shifted from side to side, looking for the bottle she was destined to drink. The lady brushed a few hairs from the girls forehead, tenderly stroking her face and smiling at her.  Then she raised the bottle to the girls gagged lips and slowly began to pour. 

The liquid was off-white, creamy and slow to pour, like curdled milk. At first it filled the girls mouth to the top and she refused to swallow. But the lady simply held her nose until she gulped it down. After that she resigned herself to the process, swallowing as fast as she could, trying to get it over with. The lady poured very carefully, stretching the ordeal out, making sure not a drop was wasted. Periodically she’d stop pouring, stare into the girls eyes, and tease her by letting it just drip very slowly, strings of stick cum slowly sliding off the bottle lip into her widely stretched mouth.

Eventually, after what felt to the girl like a gallon of disgusting salty liquid had been poured into her, the bottle was empty. The lady held it up the light, twisting it from side to side and contemplating the streaks of semen that still clung to the walls of the bottle.

“Hmmmm,” she said. “It doesn’t look like we managed to get all of it. There must be at least 4 or 5 guys worth still in here. We really need something to help rinse the bottle out. I wonder if your Father and Jim could help with that?”

With that she vanished from view, and the girl was left to stare up at the lights and contemplate the ominous meaning behind her Father and Jim ‘helping out’. Several minutes past before the lady returned. The girl had heard what sounded like a bottle being filled and her worst fears were confirmed when she saw what the lady was holding up.

“Jim and your Father were most generous,” the lady said. “It looks like between them they provided well over a pint of piss.”

She swirled the bottle around and the girl’s stomach did a flip-flop at the sight of the yellow liquid streaked with the stray cum that had been left behind in the bottle. Bending over the girl the lady began to pour it into her mouth, and this time the girl accepted it without resistance, gulping the warm fluid down as fast she could. The lady again poured very deliberately and carefully, resting a hand on the girl’s throat to enjoy the feeling of the muscles rhythmically contracting as she consumed the vile concoction. From across the room she heard a gasp and she looked up in time to see the step-mother shudder violently, in the throes of an enormous orgasm, hands working furiously back and forth inside her panties. Clearly, seeing the girl force fed the mixture of semen and piss was exactly the erotic charge she’d been looking for.

Thirty minutes later and the girl was untied. Occasionally hiccupping to herself, she was slumped on the floor, trying her best not to throw up. She’d been told that she’d be force fed anything that came up, and horrible as the liquids had been the first time, she couldn’t imagine how much worse they would be recycled.

The lady sat in the wooden chair, gently stroking the girl’s hair. It had been an enjoyable session she decided. At least for everyone except the girl. A nice mixture of torture and humiliation. And the level of the girl’s arousal at times during the session showed that she had all the makings an excellent pain and sex slave. For today however, it just remained to show the final surprise that had been prepared for her.

There was a thumping sound from the doorway, and Jim emerged pushing a large wooden box on a rolling metal table. He carefully maneuvered it into the center of the room and then moved back into the shadows, leaving the lady to inspect it. It had been designed to her specification, but this was the first time she’d seen it and so she was eager to see if it would function as intended.

It was around 3 foot long and 2 foot square. Made of a rich brown wood with brass fittings, it had clearly been constructed by an expert craftsman. Five of the six sides were solid unbroken wood, with no gaps or holes visible. The sixth side, the end of the box, had a oval cut out in it, lined with thick padded leather. The box was split horizontally and after flipping up two brass catches on each of the long sides, the lady lifted the top half away. It was surprisingly heavily, partly due to the thickness of the wood and partly because the inside had been padded with more brown leather. Recessed into it were a series of buckles and straps. Overall it appeared to be exactly as she had requested, better even, and she suppressed a shiver at excitement at what it meant for the girl.

The table it was on was the type used in hospitals, tubular metal with lockable wheels and an adjustable height. She lowered it now, bringing the top of the box to slightly below waist height. Then turning to the girl she called her forward. The girl came without complaint or question, with her head bowed she looked the perfect little submissive toy.

The first part of installing her into the box was straightforward. She folded the girls arms behind her back, wrist to opposite elbow, and wrapped leather straps around her forearms to hold them together. Then pushing her back she forced her to lie backwards into the box, facing up with her head at the boxes closed end. Although she was now potentially resting on her crossed arms, the leather padding in the box was raised to support her upper body and ensure she could remain in position for long periods. Straps attached to the floor of the box were now pulled up and wrapped around her torso, and with their buckles pulled tight she was now held in the firm embrace of the leather and wood.

The next step was to fold her legs back. The lady had given instructions that the girl was to spend at least an hour every day exercising and stretching for just this kind of eventuality. This activity combined with the natural flexibility of youth, made it easy to pull her knees up and towards her chest while folding her legs tightly down. With more straps pulled into place over her legs she was now in shape of tightly flattened ‘S’. The padding of the box raised her lower back higher than her head, and so now just her ass stuck outside the box through the cutout in the end. With everything almost in place, the lady leaned over the box and stared down at the girl.

“Normally after one of our sessions I leave you to the tender loving care of your parents. But this time I thought we’d try something a little different. As you can see you’ve been installed into a box of my own particular design. Although you can thank your Father for paying for this beautiful construction. In a minute I’m going to put the top half of the box in place and fasten it shut. It’ll obviously be pitch dark in there and I’m guessing that with all this thick wood and padded leather, almost soundproof. You’re therefore not going to have any idea what’s going on. So let me give you a bit of a preview.”

With that the lady broke off and strolled around to end of the box where the girl’s backside stuck out. Running a hand across her backside the lady first smacked her ass, and then began to tease her pussy, gently rubbing and fingering her.

“Once the top of the box is in place the only part of you that’ll be exposed and available will be your pussy and your asshole. Basically you’ll be a noiseless, faceless, helpless pair of fuck holes. I’m guessing your first customers will be Jim and your Father.”

As she was speaking the lady was rubbing the girl harder and faster, causing her to squirm and pant with arousal, bringing her closer and closer to her first orgasm for days.

“Once you’ve satisfied them I’m going to load you into my car and drive you to that brothel I told you about. They’re going to put you in a spare room and put you on the menu for all the customers. Obviously they can’t charge to much for fucking a box, but I figure they might be able to get $20 a time. Which isn’t a bad wage for a piece of inanimate furniture to earn.”

At this the girl gave a final moaning cry and came with a gushing rush of pussy juice, soaking the ladies hand. With a smile the lady moved back to the head of the box and looked down on the girl.

“It seems like you like that idea. Maybe we’ll leave you there for a few weeks and see how much money you can make.”

The girl didn’t respond. Her expression was glazed and she looked to be in a submissive trance. The lady wiped her hand over the girl’s face and then stepped back to allow Jim to lower the top of the box into place. He did so quickly and, once the catches had been flipped into place on either side, he reached into his pocket for the final touch. Two brass handles, molded like the handlebars on a bike, were produced and screwed to either side of the box near the open end. Now all her customers would have something to hang onto as they forced themselves into her open holes. And as Jim and Mr. Smith unzipped their trousers, the lady suspected that customer number one and customer number two were both close at hand.

Two days later the lady stopped by the brothel to see how her experiment was progressing. The owner led her through a series of corridors to what looked like an old storage room. The box was positioned on a table in the center of the small room. On one side of it was an industrial sized bottle of lube. On the other side was a large basket of condoms. The trash can at the side of the table appeared to contain dozens and dozens of discarded condom wrappers. The girls ass was red, with handprints very obviously imprinted across it, and her slit and asshole glistened and dripped with lubricant.

“How often do you take her out?” asked the lady.

“Every 8 hours or so,” replied the owner. “We feed her, take her to the bathroom, let her stretch, and then back in the box. She’s a very popular piece of equipment. A lot of customers compared her to a fleshlight, so we’ve taken to calling her the fleshbox”

“Does she struggle much when you get her out?” inquired the lady.

“Yes,” the owner responded. “She cries and fights. Begs not to go back in the box. But I always have two of my most sadistic girls handle her, and quit honestly I think they get a really kick out of it.”

“Glad I could help,” said the lady. “And I like the fact she’s hasn’t resigned herself to it. I want a responsive slut, not a broken one. Let’s give her another 24 hours and then I’ll take her home. I’m sure her parents will be missing her.”

Authors Note.

When I wrote part 1 of this I had no intention of adding more. I just wanted to take a powerful opening image, that of a girl in a cage with a dominatrix and a small audience, and see where I could go with it. But I had so much positive feedback, both via email and reviews, I decided to extend the storyline.  Unfortunately in the recent server crash it looks like all the reviews have gone. So if you like this story, or even if you don’t, then please write a review or send me feedback. It does make a difference!

paltego

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Chapter 2

The lady turned off the road and onto the long driveway that led to Mr. and Mrs. Smith’s house. It was beginning to get dark and, as she made the turn, her headlights automatically flickered on, illuminating the gravel road snaking between the trees. She was driving a black SUV, and its plain exterior paired with lightly tinted windows gave it a discrete but slightly threating air. This impression of understated menace was emphasized  by the occasional growl and low throaty bark that could be heard coming from the rear compartment every time the car thumped across a pothole.

This was the second time in recent weeks that she’d driven to the Smith’s with a passenger locked in the trunk. On the last occasion her companion had been the Smith’s daughter, returning to her parents after her first foray into the world of professional sex work. Although describing the time she’d spent in the local brothel as ‘professional sex work’ was a little like describing a crack whore as a ‘highly motivated sensual touch specialist.’ She’d been held for 3 days in darkness, bound and restrained, a faceless pair of holes fucked by countless men for $20 a time. Her opinions and thoughts hadn’t counted for anything. She’d just been a convenient place to deposit semen.

When the lady had arrived to collect her from the whorehouse, the girl had been in a bad way. Stinking of sweat and coated in dried lube and come, when she was finally unbuckled and released she’d simply collapsed on the floor at the lady’s feet. For a few minutes the lady had done nothing but stare down at the disheveled girl, a faint smile playing around her lips. They were a striking contrast. The girl was naked, her hair matted, her eyes red, and her skinny body ridged with deep marks from the restraining straps and buckles. In contrast the lady was immaculately attired and made-up, wearing tight designer jeans and sporting a chic little leather jacket. She’d have looked more at home on Rodeo Drive than standing over the abused body of a naked girl in the dirty backroom of a brothel.

Finally, after several minutes where the girl seemed disinclined to move or even look up, the lady had bent down and began to gently stroke her hair.

“You did very well”, she’d murmured. “Your parents are ever so proud of you.”

The girl had glanced up at the mention of her parents, a spark of hope in her eyes that she might finally be returning home.

“Please”, she whispered. “Please, I want to go back.”

The lady had gently caressed the side of the girl’s head, and then tilted her chin up, forcing her gaze upwards to the meet the lady’s stare.

“We sent them several photographs of you in action. Along with a report from the manager. He told them you were the best fucktoy he’s ever installed. That almost every customer who used it said it was well worth the $20.”

Incredibly at this the girl had almost smiled. “I did OK?” she’d tentatively enquired.

At the sight of her upturned questioning  expression the lady had felt a slow twist of excitement in the pit of her stomach. Anyone could dominate and abuse a young girl. That took no great skill. But to break her down, change her perspective on reality, make her a twisted participant in the process, that was the real challenge. That fleeting glimpse of a smile when she was told what a fine $20 fucktoy she’d been, that was worth any number of screams.

“Did you orgasm while you were in the box?” she’d asked the girl.

The girl had closed her eyes, unable to face the lady’s stare, and then silently nodded.

“More than once?”

Again there had been no verbal response, just a slight nod of the head. A silent acknowledgement that some part of her had enjoyed the suffering and abuse.

“That’s a good girl” the lady had assured her. “You need to accept who you are. What you are. A normal person would never have been excited when treated like that. But you’re not a normal person. You’re just a thing. A fucktoy. A painslut. Our little bondage baby. You’re whatever we want you to be. And part of you really wants that. Craves that. And when I’m finally finished with you, that is going to be the only part of you left.”

Standing up the lady had gestured to two men standing at the entrance to the room, and between them they’d carried in a large wire dog cage. The girl wasn’t even given chance to cleanup or wash.  Instead, still stinking of sex and sweat,  she’d been forced into the cage and loaded into the back of the lady’s car for delivery back to her parents.

That had been a little over two weeks ago. On this latest journey the cage was once again occupied, but this time by a new friend for the Smith’s daughter. This particular friend had been a special request from Mrs. Smith, and it had taken the lady almost a week to locate and purchase him. But the time spent had been worth it, and she had every reason to believe that the new arrival would please the parents as much as it would dismay their daughter.

It was completely dark by the time she arrived outside the Smith’s house, and the floodlights had been turned on to illuminate its low sweeping frontage. It was a vast sprawling home, an old mansion that had been extensively enlarged and modernized. Mr. Smith was a wealthy man and he spared no expense to indulge all of his passions to the full. The art on display throughout the house was worth millions. The furniture had been custom designed to his exact requirements. And as the lady knew, when it came to his daughter, he was happy to pay for any device or service that could be used to torture her in new and exciting ways.

Jim, Mr. Smith’s bodyguard and butler, was waiting for her by the main entrance. As she killed the engine, he stepped forward to open her door.

“Any problems?”

“No,” she replied, tossing him the car keys. “He’s in the back. Take care of him and give him some food.”

“Anything I need to watch out for?”

“No. He’s a real sweetheart. More of a lover than a fighter”, she said with a grin on her face. “Now, where is everyone?”

“Mr. Smith is working on a business deal in his study. He’ll join you later. Mrs. Smith is giving a riding lesson in the girl’s bedroom. She said to go on and meet her there.”

The lady stifled a question about how exactly one gave a riding lesson indoors. No doubt all would be clear soon. Leaving the car and its passenger for Jim to deal with, she headed into the house in the direction of the girl’s bedroom. She’d visited it just once before, when she’d first interviewed the girl about her desire to experience real slavery and submission. Back then it had been a typical seventeen year olds bedroom. Posters of the pop bands on the wall, photographs of her friends on the desk and school books scattered everywhere. But as she pushed the door open, she realized that since then her parents had insisted on a few changes.

She’d have predicted that they would have gone for a stark, minimal prison look: Plain walls, no comfort, just a bare mattress to sleep on. Something to emphasize the new low status of their daughter. Instead they’d gone in very much the other direction. Pink was the dominant color. The walls were pale pink, the bedspread a bright pink ‘Hello Kitty’ design, and all the furniture was upholstered in a deep pink. What wasn’t pink was white, with lacey white frills cascading around the bed and dresser, and a large white toy chest in the corner, decorated with pictures of cute animals. The overall impression was of a bedroom for a girl much younger than 17. It was a clever move thought the lady. It would increase the girl’s helplessness and dependency, taking her back to a time when her entire world had been this house and her parents.

As she studied the room more closely, some subtle incongruities in its contents began to stand out. The toy chest lid was propped open and she could see that the toys inside were definitely not of the kid variety. A couple of black leather whips were coiled in the bottom, lying next to a box of surgical needles and a bottle of lube. The photographs of the girl and her school friends that used to adorn the dresser had been replaced with dozens of snapshots taken from the whorehouse. Each one showed a different guy fucking her. And at the four corners of the bed lay thick white ropes, each ending in a slip knot noose. The lady stared at them, picturing the girl staked out on the pink bedspread, wearing nothing but a wispy lace nighty, her thin body twisting hopelessly against the taut ropes as her father repeatedly penetrated her, fucking for hours until he was satisfied.

A gentle laugh startled her out of revere, and she turned in the doorway to see Mrs. Smith standing behind her.

“Sorry I wasn’t here to greet you,” she said. “I was just preparing our toy for her riding lesson and didn’t hear you come in. I see you were admiring our new décor.”

“Yes. It’s very striking. A nice mixture of innocence and corruption. I can imagine the two of you having hours of fun in here. But what’s the riding lesson? And where is she?”

“Oh, she’s just in the bathroom, getting her face on,” replied Mrs. Smith cryptically. But before the lady could question it, the bathroom door opened and the answer became obvious.

The girl was naked. Her slender body taut and unmarked, obviously fully recovered from her time in the whorehouse box. Her hair was done into two long braided pigtails, each sporting a bright yellow bow at the end. But the most striking thing about her was the face. Or rather the lack of it. For where it should have been was the frozen white face of a porcelain doll. The mouth was red and full, molded into a happy smile. The cheeks were lightly painted rouge, the eyebrows a dark penciled line and the eyelashes a frozen sequence of tiny black curls. It was beautiful, elegant and yet completely lifeless.

“How extraordinary,” exclaimed the lady, moving in for a closer look.

“We had it custom made for her. It fits like a second skin. There’s an expanding gag behind the mouth with some custom dental fittings. That keeps her quiet and holds the entire thing tightly into place. No need for any straps.”

Once she was close enough the lady could see the eyes of the mask were cutouts, and the girls own eyes were visible through the oval holes. They had the glassy staring look of a girl firmly gagged, and the shiny wetness of tears glistened at their edges. She put her hand to the cheek and felt the hard cold ceramic surface slide beneath her fingers.

“Beautiful”, said the lady. “A beautiful little doll that we can play with. And no matter what we do to our little doll, whatever games we girls play with it, it’ll always keep smiling.”

“Talking of playing games, why don’t I show you the special new toy we had made for her?” Suggested Mrs. Smith. “It was a gift from her father and she hasn’t had chance to try it yet.”

The new toy was sitting in the corner of the girl’s bedroom in the shape of an old fashioned rocking horse. It was an expert piece of craftsmanship, a gleaming white horse with a thick golden mane hanging within a dark varnished wooden frame. Rather than the usual curved rockers, the base was flat heavy wood, and the horse instead hung on U-shaped metal pivots off a pair of wooden uprights. The other slightly unusual part of the design was the saddle, or rather the lack of it. Instead there was a long flanged groove down the back of the horse, waiting for something to be slid into it.

While the lady was inspecting the horse, Mrs. Smith was rummaging around in the wardrobe, eventually emerging with what looked like black leather riding boots. She fastened these directly to the horse, clipping them to the flanks. Their dimensions seemed a little off to the lady. The feet were tiny and child-like, but the upper leather boot looked far deeper than seemed necessary. However, the next few words quickly made everything clear.

“I’ll need your help getting her into these,” Mrs. Smith explained. “She has to go in knee first, so her foot is folded back and onto her thigh. If you lift her on one side I can lift her on the other.”

The lady quickly grasped the idea, and working together the two women soon had the girl  astride the horse and dropped knee first into the boots. When they were done she was firmly mounted on the horse, her cunt hovering a fraction above its back, and her legs folded up and firmly attached to the sides.

The next item retrieved from the wardrobe was a small white frilly dress with a short flared skirt. But once again it was immediately apparent to the lady that something was a little different about it. The long ruffled arms were stiff and stuck out in front of the dress, and from each sleeve a small doll-like hand peeked out. Mrs. Smith explained the devious design.

“The dress is actually designed like a strait-jacket. Her arms go into horizontal internal sleeves that are stitched inside it. And then we’ll zip it up along the back. The artificial hands are clipped onto the handles either side of the horse’s head. So she’ll be held firmly in place, while it’ll still look like she’s voluntarily holding on and enjoying a nice ride!”

Once the dress had been zipped up the lady couldn’t help slipping  a hand under the flared skirt to gently finger the girl’s cunt. She wasn’t surprised to find the bondage and restraints had excited their little doll and she was already wet. The horse began to gently rock back and forth as the girl tried to thrust her hips back and force to achieve a climax against the ladies fingers. But wise to this the lady allowed her hand to move with the horse, teasingly sliding her hand and denying the girl the friction she really needed. She was left frustrated and harmlessly swinging in space as the lady pulled away and her mother emerged from the wardrobe with the final piece of the puzzle.

It was a triangular block of wood, about a foot long and a couple of inches high. A sharpened edge was uppermost, while the flat base was shaped to mate with the slot on the horse’s back. Moving behind the girl, her mother wrapped one hand around the girls waist and used the other to position the wooden block so it could be slid home.

“Now sweetheart,” she told the girl. “Mommy needs you to try and lift up. Can you do that for me?”

The girl tried her best, squeezing her calf muscles against the horses flanks, lifting herself an inch or so higher. With a hand around her narrow waist her mother lifted and steadied her, and then carefully slid the block into place.

“Good girl. I’m very proud of you,” she told her.

The girl started to relax and then jolted up as her cunt painfully split itself on the sharp edge of the block. Her mother smiled as the process repeated, the girl straining and squirming as she tried to lower herself onto the block without painfully crushing herself against it. The lady watched, entranced at the scene. With the smiling doll face framed by long braided pigtails, the white dress with tiny black boots sticking out beneath it, and the artificial hands holding onto the horse’s head, it looked exactly like a beautiful toy doll riding an antique rocking horse. Nobody would have guessed that a real live girl was trapped within it, held immobile and silent, her cunt tortured by her own weight pressing it against a sharp wooden edge. Only the occasional slight rocking of the horse, as she twisted and stretched to try and relieve the pain, would have given the secret away.

“It’s very hard to get any leverage against the horse with her legs like that,” explained the mother. “She has to tightly squeeze her legs together to try and push herself clear. I don’t think it’ll take more than a few minutes before she’ll tire. Why don’t we go and get a glass of wine and come back in half an hour to see how she’s doing?”

“An excellent suggestion!” replied the lady. “Let me tell you about the present I managed to find….”

It was almost forty-five minutes before they returned. By that time it looked like all the stuffing had been knocked out of the doll. She had slumped forward as much as the artificial arms would allow her to and her head drooped down. She had completely given up trying to stay off the sharp edge of the saddle. Now she was simply trying not to move more than was absolutely necessary.

Her mother sat down on the edge of the bed and, using her foot, began to gently rock the horse back and forth. This caused the girl to raise her smiling painted face up again, staring at her mother, her body squirming slightly as the moving horse shifted her weight distribution. Then with no warning at all, as the horse rocked forward her mother smacked the flat of her foot against it, stopping the horse dead in its tracks. The sudden deceleration jammed the girl down hard and forward against her tortuous saddle, crushing her clit against the wood.  Even through the gag and mask, the two women heard her scream. 

Her mother let out a gentle peal of laughter, and then began to rock the horse again. She repeated this trick several times, smiling with each scream she drew from the girl. Meanwhile the lady had taken up station directly behind the girl and, as the mother once again brought the horse to a sudden halt, she followed up with a sudden kick with to the rear of the horse. This caught the girl by surprise, pushing her onto the saddle from an entirely new angle and causing fresh waves of pain to lace through her cunt.

The two women spent an enjoyable fifteen minutes chatting over the girl’s head and pushing the horse back and forth between them. The girl spent most of that period screaming and desperately trying to grip the sides of the horse with her thighs in order to pull herself clear of the sharp saddle. Eventually it was tiring legs for the women rather than any sense of compassion that brought a halt to their fun. The mother retrieved one final item from the wardrobe and then bent close to her daughters frozen face.

“Now sweetheart, I think your father is due to finish work any minute. So I’m going to leave you here for him. I’m sure you’d like to spend some quality daddy daughter time. But before we go I think we should do something about that uncomfortable saddle, don’t you?”

At this the girl violently nodded her head and moaned something behind her gag. The lady couldn’t help smiling at this eager reaction. She could see the alternative that Mrs. Smith was holding behind her back. It was the same size as the simple triangular saddle already in place, but the upper edge was carved into a series of curved waves with scalloped edges. Whatever pain the girl was in now, it was only going to get a lot worse.

Her mother planted a delicate kiss on the cold lips of the porcelain doll face,  and then moved back behind the girl. With a hand around the girl’s waist she murmured instructions into her ear.

“Lift up again now honey. Mommy needs to change your saddle……”

It was three hours later and the adults had gathered for a glass of wine before beginning the evening’s entertainment. Mr. Smith was entertaining Jim and the two women by telling them exactly how he’d dealt with the girl after freeing her from the horse. Apparently she’d be very grateful to see him initially, but less keen when he insisted on fucking her bruised and swollen cunt.

“There’s just something about that mask,” he was telling them. “It makes me want to terrible things to her. There’s that gorgeous tight body and then this happy smiling face. And no matter what you do, however you mistreat her, it just keeps smiling back up at you. This time I had her tied on the bed….”

However, before he could go on to describe exactly what he’d done to his daughter, the girl herself made her way carefully into the room. The mask had been removed and she was wearing a simple white nightdress. The scene that greeted her was incongruous in its normality. Her parents were sitting on a long black leather couch, relaxing with a wine glass in their hands. Both were immaculately dressed, her father in a dark suit and her mother in a long pale blue evening dress. The lady sat relaxing in a low armchair, wearing the classic ‘little black dress’, while Jim, in his usual grey suit stood behind her. A large log fire burned in the fireplace, casting a flickering light across the room. It reminded the girl of the dinner parties her parents had used to host for friends when she was growing up. Of course in those days the topics of conversation had been her school grades and college prospects. Not the best position to tie her down so she could be fucked.

The lady got to her feet and took charge of the situation. While Jim slipped out of the room, she crossed to the girl and rested a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re very lucky,” she told the nervous looking girl. “Your parents have purchased some very expensive presents. Not many children are blessed with such a generous family.”

As she spoke there was a bark from outside the room. Seconds later Jim entered leading a large black Doberman by a heavy leather leash. The girl had always loved dogs, and instinctively broke out into a large smile, dropping to one knee to stroke him. The dog seemed very friendly, licking her face and jumping up, clearly enjoying all the attention. She was puzzled by the gift however. It was unlike her parents to give her anything nice these days. And why did the dog have little leather booties on its feet?

“His name is Holmes. After a famous movie star,” explained the lady, shooting a knowing smile to the parents. “He’s a special gift from your mother. And he was very expensive because he’s been specially trained.”

“Really?” said the girl, looking up from the floor, her arms clasped around the dogs neck. “What does he do? Tricks?”

“Kind of. You see he’s been trained to prefer a special kind of bitch to mate with. Specifically, the kind of bitch you are.”

“NO!” exclaimed the girl, with a horrified look on her face. She dropped her arms from the dog and scooted backwards away from him on the floor. The dog followed, puzzled but still wagging its tail. “I can’t. No! Please!” she pleaded.

“Ssshhh,” said the lady. She strode forward and knelt by the girl, pulling the dog back from her. “If you don’t want to play with mommy’s present just yet, that’s OK. You have an alternative”

“Oh, please” said the girl with a desperate look. “Anything. Just don’t make me…. not with a dog…”

“OK. Instead, would you like to try out daddy’s present first?”

The girl paused, her expression both wary and nervous. She knew that she was trapped. Any present from her father in this situation wasn’t likely to be an enjoyable one. But how could it be worse? Anything had to be better than being forced to mate with a dog.

“Yes,” she said in a quiet little voice. “I’ll try what daddy got me.”

The lady stood and helped the girl back to her feet. She made her way over to the couch, skirting carefully around the dog, and took the large box her father was now proffering. It looked like a gift box from a high end fashion or jewelry store. It was wrapped in thick white paper and decorated with pink ribbons tied into a large bow.

“Thank you daddy,” she said, gingerly taking it from him. With one eye still cast nervously towards the dog, she slowly unwound the ribbons and pulled the top back. Her eyes widened when she saw the contents. Expecting the worst, she was amazed to see a beautiful and elegant lingerie set. Rather than the fetish or bondage wear she’d become used to, this was all in white silk and lace, the kind of lingerie her mother purchased from expensive French boutiques.

“Well don’t just stare at it!” exclaimed her father. “Try it on. I had it custom made, so it should fit you perfectly”

The girl didn’t need to be told twice and quickly wriggled out of her nightdress, excited at what appeared to be such a beautiful gift. The first item out of the box was a pair of white stocking, each a thin wisp of finest quality silk. As she pulled them on she noticed they had a filigree of fine silver strands, an apparently random mosaic of thin silver that glittered as she admired her stocking clad legs in the light. Next came a basque, complete with a series of lacy ties that could be tightened to make it hug her slim form. Like the stockings it had a silver strands woven into it, running from the stocking suspenders up the body and finishing entwined around her breasts. The associated panties were a simple triangle of silk that narrowed to a thong like rope of glittering silver and lace strands. Pulled tightly into place between her legs, her slit was clearly outlined through the almost transparent white and silver triangle. A choker followed, a plain white band with a series of small diamonds set around its middle. The stones sparkled in the light as she carefully fixed it around her neck. The final item from the box was a pair of high heeled white leather shoes, each sporting a glittering silver and diamond decorative motif.

The end result was spectacular. Even her parents, who had grown used to seeing her in sexually provocative clothing, were impressed. Her beautiful body was wreathed in tight white silk, and she glittered and sparkled as she turned in the evening lights.

“You look wonderful,” said her father. “Like an angel. Why don’t you go and sit up on the couch with your mother so she can take a closer look?”

Standing up he moved away from the couch and allowed his wife to sit sideways, stretching out fully down its length. The girl was initially hesitant, perching carefully just on the seat edge, but was quickly encouraged by her mother’s embrace to recline backwards and adopt a similar posture. They lay for a moment in each other’s arms, a demure young girl in white lingerie held close by a beautiful blond in an elegant blue evening dress. The woman began to kiss her, her hands gently sliding across the girl’s body, enjoying the feel of her skin through the taut silk.

Meanwhile the lady had retrieved the pink ribbons from the gift box and, crossing to the entwined couple, used them to tie the girl’s hands and feet. The girl hardly noticed as her ankles were wrapped in a series of pink loops and then her hands pulled behind her back to be similarly ensnared. She was far too distracted by the hand her mother had slipped between her legs and was using to slowly masturbate her, carefully running two fingers up and down the lacy triangle between her legs. She moaned and breathed in her mother’s delicate perfume, lost in a rare moment of pleasure.

Having finished tying the girl, the lady retreated from the couch and handed Mr. Smith what looked like a remote control device. With a nod he thanked her, and thumbed its large red ‘on’ button. Over on the couch the girl let out a startled moan as a tingling sensation ran up her body. Mrs. Smith smiled and sat up and away from the girl, staring down at her as she lay tied on the couch.

“Now my beautiful little angel,” she said. “As you’ve just discovered, there’s something very special about this lingerie. You see the silver strands are not just decorative. They’re also electrical conductors. So you’re now very tightly wrapped in a web of hundreds of electrical contacts.”

The girl moaned and gasped as another wave of delicious sensation ran up her legs and around body.

“There are two powerful battery packs contained within your shoes,” continued Mrs. Smith. “And from there they can direct current to almost any part of your body. Either a gentle tingle or…”

Mr. Smith, recognized his cue, came a sharp twist to a control knob, and the girl suddenly screamed and writhed on the couch. A burst of intense pain shot through the soles of her feet and along her lower legs. It came in a series of waves, each one causing her muscles to clench and her nerve endings to flare white hot. Another touch to the control box and the pain moved to her pussy, a series of vicious shocks rippling across the damp surface of her panties. She screamed again and again as each shock hit her.

“As you can feel,” Mrs. Smith told the panting girl. “We can inflict awful pain to almost any part of your body. The control box over there in your father’s hand has a series of set programs he’s going to run. Each about 5 minutes long. Once we start the program it doesn’t stop. However, between programs if you want to stop this and play with the nice doggie that I brought you instead, well you only have to ask.”

Mr. Smith hit the button for program one, and was instantly rewarded with more high pitched screams from his daughter. Her fastened legs attempt to kick as wave after wave of pain raced through her feet and along her legs.

“No, please, no,” she begged her mother as the first wave of shocks died away. “It hurts too much.”

Her mother simply smiled down at her and brushed a tear from the girl’s face as the next wave of shocks began to hit. Her breasts felt like they were on fire and she twisted her body back and forth as the pain intensified. The agonizing process continued for what seemed like an eternity, and she could do nothing but suffer and stare helplessly up into her mother’s eyes. Eventually however it ceased and she was left panting and exhausted, every part of her body aching.

“Do you want to stop this and play with the doggie?” asked her mother.

The girl paused, trying to evaluate the sensations in her body. She’d survived it so far. How much worse could it get? Maybe she could handle this.

“No. I can’t. Not the dog.”

“OK then. We’ll move on. But I should tell you that the remaining programs have a little twist. You see the choker you’re wearing also has a bit of modern technology built into it. In its case a tiny wireless microphone is embedded in the front. From here on if it picks up any noise above a whisper, it’ll temporarily increase the level of the shocks based on the volume of the noise. So one loud scream from you and you’ll be looking at twice as much pain.”

Mr. Smith hit the button for program two and the waves of agony returned for the girl. This time however the room was eerily quiet. The only sound was the faint crackle of logs in the fireplace. The four adults sat quietly sipping their drinks and watching the girl as she shook and squirmed. Her beautiful body and the elegant but devilish white lingerie made a striking contrast to the black leather of the couch. She was breathing heavily though her nose and had her teeth clenched tightly together in a desperate attempt to avoid making any sound.

For the first two or three minutes it looked like she would make it through the 5 minute program without a murmur. But then her mother, whilst still smiling and holding eye contact, leaned forward and blew across the microphone. The sequence of shocks that were currently focused around her asshole and pussy suddenly leapt in intensity and she couldn’t prevent a scream forcing its way out. That of course triggered further intense shocks and for the remainder of the sequence she was caught in a vicious circle of increased shocks and strangled screams that she couldn’t hold back.

“Would like you like to move onto program three?” enquired her mother when the final shock had eventually died away.

The girl lay quietly, her jaw muscles still tightly clenched. It was bad but she could handle it. She just needed to ride it out. Accept the pain. Don’t fight it. Detach.

Her mother, taking her silence to imply consent, began to prepare for the next sequence by pulling on a pair of long gloves. They were ladies opera gloves, made of light blue leather to match her evening dress, and they stretched from her fingertips to past her elbows. Most importantly they’d insulate her from any shocks. Sliding down the couch, she lay with the girl, embracing her and gently kissing away her tears.

As Mr. Smith initiated the next sequence, Mrs. Smith held the girl close, feeling her warm body begin to clench and spasm in her arms as the rippling shocks began again. She closely stared into the girls pain filled eyes, their faces just inches apart, feeling her hot breath gasping from her as her nerve endings were shredded by the electricity. Across the room Mr. Smith was leaning forward, one hand slowly stroking himself, as he watched the perverse pairing embrace and twist on the couch.

For the girl this tight embrace made the pain so much worse. Where before the electrical contacts might have pressed lightly against her skin, perhaps briefly breaking away as she moved, now her mother was holding them tightly against her. The combination of her increasingly damp skin and the additional pressure increased the flow of electricity  tremendously. As her mother ran a hand over her breasts and rolled her nipples between silver wires it felt like a knife cutting into her soft tender flesh, and she tossed her head back and forth in silent agony.

The breaking point came about three minutes into the sequence. The woman slipped a hand between the girls legs and began to finger her through the conducting fabric. As she forced the contact wires into the girls pussy a cascading run of shocks, each more powerful that then last, blasted across her clitoris and labia. This forced a scream from her lips, which boosted the intensity of the shocks up to an unbearable level.

“No, No,” muttered the girl. “Dog, dog, please dog” she repeated as she thrashed back and forth, each word echoing in the intensity of the shocks being applied across her body.

Her mother smiled, but didn’t stop the electricity. Continuing to hold the girls writhing body against her, she began to whisper in her ear. “There, there. It’s alright. It’ll soon stop. Good girl.”

The girl was broken. Defeated. When the shocks finally stopped she didn’t beg or plead. She just lay there, her breath panting in and out, her eyes wet with tears. Her mother carefully brushed the hair back from her face, and then gently kissed her on the lips.

“I’m very happy you decided to play with my present for you,” she said. “He’s supposed to have the longest and thickest cock of any from his litter, so I had to pay quite a bit extra.”

The girl shuddered and closed her eyes.

“Now you could simply get on all fours and let him take you like that. But apparently that can be quite tricky for a first timer to get right. So we’ve purchased a piece of equipment called a ‘bitch stand’ that’ll really help him achieve maximum penetration whilst also preventing you struggling and confusing him. Would you like to try that? Would you like us to fasten you to the bitch stand sweetheart?”

The girl was silent but nodded softly. What did it matter now? She was going to be the dog’s bitch. Better to accept whatever happened than struggle further.

Jim left the room and returned a few minutes later with a very functional and utilitarian piece of equipment. It was made of tubular steel, wrapped in black foam padding. Viewed from above it closely resembled a letter ‘A’. The triangular base was about 5 feet in length and a little over 2 feet wide at the open end. The horizontal line in the ‘A’ was formed by a padded horizontal bar held about 18 inches from the floor by a pair of uprights. Various belts and buckles were attached at convenient anchor points and a pair of padded leather cuffs on a chain trailed from the pointed end of the base.

Mr. Smith moved across to rejoin his wife on the couch, and the two sat together cuddling like a pair of teenage lovers as Jim carefully positioned the frame on the floor in front of them. Meanwhile the lady had taken charge of the girl, ordering her to strip and then kneel in the frame. Awkwardly she got down on the floor in front of her parents, placing her hips against the padded bar and then leaning over it, resting on all fours. She didn’t look up or even glance towards the dog which was now sitting up eagerly wagging its tail just a few feet away.

The lady got to work with the belts and buckles on the girls legs. Each ankle and knee was pulled to the outside edge of the base and strapped firmly into place. The girl groaned as the lady tugged the last belt around her knees tight. Her legs were spread painfully apart, her thighs held in a taut V, and the lips of her cunt split open under the tension. The horizontal bar under her hips was angled slightly backwards, pushing her ass up and out, perfectly positioned for the dog to mount. The final touch was the leather cuffs for her hands. Once buckled around her wrists the lady pulled the girl firmly forward and down, the chain from the cuffs clipping into place on the very end of the frame.

The ‘bitch’ was now fastened in place. Leg’s apart, ass in the air, body pulled down. The taut chain holding her arms clinking slightly as she shifted, trying to get comfortable in her bindings.

The lady gave her a gently pat on the head and went to retrieve two small items from her purse.  Returning to the girl, she bent down and placed the first of them, a small metal bell, on the floor in front of her. At the sight of the bell the dog let out a low ‘woof’ and jumped up. He began circling the metal frame, pacing backwards and forwards excitedly. Her parents, still cuddling on the couch, could see a large purple and red penis jutting out prominently beneath his belly.

“The dog is trained to fuck once the bell is rung,” explained the lady in a conversational tone. “So naturally he gets pretty excited when he spots the bell coming out. Stretched out like this, she’ll be perfectly held in place, unable to stop him. And secretly, deep down inside, I think she knows that this is the proper place for her. Where she belongs. A bitch for anyone or anything to fuck”

The lady moved around to the back of the girl and carefully knelt down. A low buzzing noise filled the air as the lady activated the second item from her purse, a small bullet vibrator. The girl’s body twitched slightly in her bonds as she felt the vibrator briefly brush across her clitoris.

“Any normal girl in this situation would be terrified,” the lady told her. “Scared of being forcibly penetrated by a dog. Revolted at just the idea of it. A normal girl could never get sexually aroused in this situation. Shall we see what kind of girl you are?”

The ladies hand moved back and forth, circling the clitoris with the bullet, varying the pressure. As the vibrator was pressed more firmly against her the girl couldn’t help but respond. Her bodies reaction betrayed her as she began to moan, fruitlessly twisting her arms and trying to wiggle her hips. The lady smiled at this, and began to work her hand more vigorously, switching between the vibrator and her fingers. After a minute or two, as she sensed the girl approaching orgasm she suddenly pulled away, leaving the girl frustrated, her orgasm denied.

Getting to her feet, the lady moved around to the front of the frame and pulled the girl’s head up via a handful of hair. Her fingers were slick with clear thin pussy juice and she slowly wiped them across the girl’s face.

“It seems we have our answer,” said the lady. “She’s just a bitch. A fuck buddy for a dog.”

The girl watched helplessly as the lady picked the bell up. She could hear the dog breathing heavily somewhere behind her, and despite the situation she felt her stomach flip with a perverse thrill. Her cunt gaped wide, held spread between the leather straps, wet with excitement. There was nothing she could do to stop the animal forcing its way into it. Seated above her on the couch her parents leaned forward, their eyes wide, caught in the moment.

The bell rang.

The girl heard the skitter of the leather booties on the floor and then cried out in shock as she felt the dog’s front legs scrabbling along her back. A sudden weight landed on her back, and his warm furry body was pressing into her. She could feel his hot smelly breath on her neck and she tried to jerk free as he slid forward, his rear legs kicking to get leverage. He stabbed at her, once, twice, three times. On the fourth attempt he speared her, his thick pointed penis sliding deeply into her. She moaned at the sudden penetration and twisted her hands in their chains, fighting to escape.

Now he had his bitch where he wanted her the dog pushed in, penetrating her more deeply than she’d ever imagined. Her cunt lips were stretched tightly around his cock, painfully pulling and twisting  as he began to jack hammer into her. She’d never felt so degraded. So abused. And yet despite everything, she felt the sexual excitement begin to grow within her again. The delicious tingle of an impending orgasm washed through her body and she cried out as the dog fucked her into a screaming climax.

Her parents watched transfixed as the dog brought their daughter through a series of crashing orgasms. She was panting and moaning, shuddering in her bonds as the bucking Doberman slid his swelling dick in and out of her now soaking cunt. And just when they thought it was almost over, she let out a loud scream and climaxed again as the dog pumped jet after jet of hot doggy come into her.

When he was finally done the dog barked and yelped as he tried to back away, his front legs thrashing against her sides. The lady grabbed his collar to guide him away, and he whined as his swollen cock reluctantly popped out of her cunt with a wet squelch. Jim quickly had him leashed and led him out of the room in the direction of the kennels.

The lady picked up her wine glass and settled herself into an armchair by the fire. Over on the couch there was the sound of a zip as  Mr. Smith helping his wife slide out of her dress. She watched as the two of them embraced and kissed, their bodies intertwining on the couch. Highly aroused by the spectacle they’d just seen, they began to slowly make love. In contrast to the brutality inflicted on their daughter, they were gentle with each other, tenderly touching and caressing as they gradually built towards a mutual climax.

The girl remained fastened to the bitch frame. She could hear her parents making love, the couch springs squeaking above her, but she made no effort to move or ask to be released. She was slumped immobile, exhausted by the pounding she’d taken, mentally numb from the degradation of what she’d been forced to do. A thin sheen of sweat covered her body and dog come oozed slowly from her cunt. As the lady watched a long string of it slipped out of her and puddled on the floor.

It had been an enjoyable day decided the lady as she sipped her wine and studied the immobile body on the frame. The girl was becoming more and more sexually responsive to the pain and humiliation. The girl’s naturally submissive nature combined with the lady’s conditioning and training was going to result in a superb pain slave and fuck toy. The steady escalation of her suffering could continue. And perhaps a good next step would be licking that dog come up from the floor….