The Murderess 2

(story continues from The Murderess)

8. TRANSFERED

The four important women and Lord A conferred for some time. Then he spoke:

"Good, Everything has been agreed. The convict Jane H. is transferred to my custody. She is now my slave-convict. The terms of the Agreement are these".

He turned in his chair, grabbed the chain Sally was holding and pulled me close to him. He shoved an impressive legal document into my hands.

"Read girl!"

I read as best I could.

"Speak up!

This day (date) at the PPU centre situated at (place) and in presence of the following Governesses (names) and Lord .... the proprietor of a home penitentiary at (place) it is agreed that the condemned murderess Jane Hancock, sentenced to life imprisonment without possibility of parole or reprieve, be transferred to the custody of the said Lord ...

The terms of custody are these:

1. Being a dangerous criminal, Jane H must be kept in chains at all times

She is to be chastened regularly by traditional means (whips, canes, crops, birches, straps, etc.) Being the property of Lord A. she may be maimed, mutilated, generally ill-treated or put to death if her master so desires. She has no rights of any kind. Her vital organs may be sold on the open market. She must submit herself to any physical or mental modification it may please her master to impose. She must perform menial tasks humbly and efficiently. She must show absolute obedience at all times. She must find some remunerative employment within her prison, to repay Lord ....'s kindness in maintaining her; should she not, she will be be held in continual pain and discomfort. She is to lend herself willingly to serving as an erotic plaything if her Master so desires, refusing no sexual act, however degrading it may be.

Recorded at (place,time and date)

Signed (names) and by the object of the agreement (my signature)

So that was what I had been made to sign! My heart sank again. If it had not been for Sally who caught me, I would have fallen forwards in a kind of faint. I was in a state of shock for a few moments.

The four notable women and Lord Whom took leave of each other with cold civility and we left the office in the same order as before.

Once in the corridor we stopped. Sally opened the huge bag she was carrying and took out a great brown cape. This she threw over my shoulders and then buttoned up, leaving only the leash chain hanging outside. She pulled the hood up over my head. The cape reached my ankles. It had arm-slits and I could have put my hands out of if I had wanted to, It seemed to be made of some light waterproofed canvas which crackled musically with every move I made. She rummaged again and pulled a pair of light slippers out. She knelt and slipped them on my feet.

"That's better, my darling!" said Sally. "Now you look almost respectable! And you can walk properly now." She took up the end of my leash and we walked on.

I was too taken aback to reply and just followed her, my restraints jingling inside my cape. Being light chains, they jingled, unlike punishment chains which rattled. (That was the kind of silly thought that was going through my head: "jingle chains, jingle chains, jingle all the way/ Oh what fun it is to leash/ a well-whipped convict slave!")

We passed the armed guards at the main entrance of the building. They stared at us hostilely but said nothing. We crossed the courtyard and I mentally thanked Sally for the little slippers; maybe they were going to fatten me up and sell my organs but any small kindness was to be appreciated.

At the main gate two surly armed women opened the gate through the high walls topped with razor wire and we were outside. I was trembling so hard I was afraid I could not go on walking. Fresh air!

"Sally, Sally" I whispered, "Please, I’ve got to pee."

"Very natural" she commented, "after all that to-do! Come over to the side of the road here and squat... and don't you dare get your chains or the cape or your shoes wet or you really will be whipped!"

She handed me a tissue.

I did as I was told and then stood up, feeling much better.

"Thank you."

Another few yards and we reached the car. Sally opened a back-seat door for me and I clambered in. She dropped my leash on my knees and shut the door. Just as well it was a very big car: getting in wearing all those chains and a voluminous cape was hardly easy!

There was a young woman driver. She turned round and smiled. "So you're Jane. Nice to meet you. Welcome to freedom in chains, welcome to freedom in waterproofs! I'm Amanda. We'll be seeing each other often." I stammered something in reply.

"Don't worry my dear, you're in a state of shock and you think something dreadful is going to happen to you... and so it is. The same thing that happened to Sally and me and the other girls. You'll see!" And with that cryptic remark she started the engine. Lord A had got in beside her and before she could start driving he grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her on the cheek.

It seemed that she was wearing some kind of waterproofed garment with a lowered hood.

We drove for a long time. Night fell. Nobody spoke for some time. Then Lord Whom turned round, stretched out a hand and lowered my hood. "Sally dear, put an arm round her. She's been through hell and is going to need all the tenderness she can get to heal her wounds."

And to me, looking me in the eyes. "Jane, listen, nothing awful is going to happen to you. I don't sell organs and I don't have women whipped unless they want to be. I have no desire to mutilate you or even mistreat you. Yes, you are going to find some kind of job and help with the housework and so on. But that can be fun. And the devil finds work for idle hands and hands in chains are forcibly idle. I wonder if you're a good cook, we're getting rather tired of Amanda's tomato sauce." Amanda poked him with her elbow. "Keep driving you lovely thing and behave. Jane isn't used to slaves elbowing their masters."

"Yes, Milord, Sir."

"Now Jane, by law you must be chained up at all times but that doesn't mean you have to wear all that ironmongery all the time. We'll fit you up with a comfy waist to ankle job that will suit us all. To be sure, I enjoy seeing women in chains" The two girls giggled a little. "What man doesn't? And I hope you will wear what you are wearing now as often as possible. You see my dear, they are easy to put on and take off. Lift your hand to your collar, that's right. Feel along it near the ring at the back. Found a little indenture? Press it!"

I did and the collar opened with a click.

"Now dear, you have to choose between the manacles and the fetters. We have to respect the laws of the land. Which are you going to keep? They all open the same way"

"I'll keep the manacles, thank you Sir." I freed one wrist, passed the cuff through the central ring and closed it on myself again. Then I freed my ankles. Sally took the chains and laid them on the seat beside her.

"And the next thing will be your psychological modification. Not only do I enjoy being surrounded by girls in chains I also have a penchant for rubber clothing. That is why you are so desirably wrapped in that cape and why dear Sally is imprisoned in her mackintosh and my lovely Amanda in her little jacket.

"Girls, what do we get from wearing rubber clothes?

"Pleasure" they both said at once. "Pure pleasure" Amanda added. "You see," she explained, "this wicked man has programmed us by a series of neurological behavioural and sensory modifications to become fetishists, perverts. He has an infallible method as you will be finding out about over the next few days, once you have rested and recuperated a bit.

"In a couple of weeks you'll be like the rest of us. The smell of rubber will turn you on, as they say, more than any perfume. The swish and ripple of rubberised cloth will be music for you. The fall and sway of mackintosh coats and capes in movement will thrill your eyes. The feel of cool rubber against your skin will turn you into a veritable Messalina, the weight of thicker double-texture macs will give you us unbelievable satisfaction, that of being enclosed and protected within pure joy. In a sense we live for rubber. It makes us happy, gives us life, makes us sociable. Aren't´ I right, Sally?"

"Yes, but a bit verbose. Too much of a purple passage but true enough. It is something to wax poetic about!"

"You see Jane, even holding you against me, quite apart from my wanting to comfort you after your ordeal, gives me intense joy, hardly sexual at all, like suckling must be. When Himself said I was to be your mother here, he knew what he meant. "

"My God", I thought to myself, "what kind of a madhouse is this?" But it was so nice to be held and consoled. I fell fast asleep with my head on her shoulder.

9. A SECOND PRISON

I woke up when the car stopped. I sat up straight, realising I had been resting my head on Sally and that her arm was round me.."Sorry... I must have fallen asleep."

She laughed. "You are a silly little girl, aren't you?" She gathered the chains from the car seat, stuffed them into her copious bag. She handed the bag to me to carry. "Now that you are a slave, Jane, you might as well do something useful."

We entered the house. It was a big Edwardian house which gave onto a street. There was nothing prison-like or sinister about it.

Inside it was well lit. We were met by a gaggle of girls, all talking at the same time. I was so unused to people and so exhausted that I could not take it all in. They kissed me on both cheeks, one after another, saying things like "Hi! I'm Susan (or Mary, or Jenny, or Ann, or Griselda, call me Grizz) Welcome home! Lovely to meet you!" and so on. I was so tired, confused and overwhelmed that I could hardly stand, let alone pay proper attention to what was being said. Finally they sent me off for a pee then sat me down and gave me something to eat and a glass of wine.

"Take your chains off, darling," said Sally. "I'll just slip these fetters round your ankles in case any of those daughters of bitches from the PPU come snooping round."

A conversation ensued: I was half conscious of it but was still awake enough to understand that the PPU received a government grant, so much for each convict and with the right to keep anything the unfortunate girl earned selling things outside. Losing me was a loss of income – and a gain for Himself (as the girls called him). Economics!

I also managed to gather, before Sally led me away, that all of the girls present had been convicted criminals or Wayward Girls at one time or another. Except Mary who had been orphaned by her father for disobedience. Himself had bought them, mainly for their own good but in no small measure for his pleasure.

It was then that I realised through my clouds of exhaustion and the effect of the wine (I had not had a drink since before my trial), that all of these joyful girls and young women were all wearing mackintoshes of different styles and colours. Only one was wearing chains, Grizz. She explained that she has been declared dangerous for taking part in an armed robbery. 40 years. She had a slim waist chain from which two chains ran to fetters on her ankles.

"They're part of me now. I don't notice them at all except when I want to feel a bit sexy... and I'd feel strange without them. Of course I can take then off when I want to, putting on knickers and so on – but I keep them close to hand even then, in case the bitches come. Mustn't let Himself down! Usually I sleep in them, which makes me particularly desirable to whoever is sharing my bed. If I were you, Jane, I'd choose chains like these." She showed me and they looked pretty enough and not too uncomfortable.

Dear, dear Grizz!

Sally took me to my room. I was expecting a bare cell. Surprise!

It was a biggish bedroom, warm, carpeted, with an (unbarred) window and curtains. There was a largish bed with sheets and blankets and a telephone on a little table beside it. There was a reading lamp, some books, a computer, a carafe of water and a glass and some biscuits in case, no doubt, I got hungry in the night. A nightdress was on the pillows, slippers under the bed.

Too much!

Luckily Sally was with me. "Let's get that cape off you and undo your chains. That door is the bathroom door, there's a hot bath waiting for you, you filthy prison-stinking child! Go and have your bath. Take as long as you like. There's a dressing gown and towels behind the door. When you've finished or need anything, shout. I'll be close by."

A bath! Hot water! Towels! Soap! Shampoo! Lavatory paper! If they wanted my kidneys they could have them!

When I eventually emerged after God knows how long, Sally was waiting. She dried me off, dried my hair such as it was ("It'll grow again dear") and helped me into the nightdress. "Sorry darling, the law is the law!:" she snapped a slim fetter round my ankle; a long chain tethered it to the frame of the bed. It was long enough for me to reach the bathroom and even open the door and go out on the landing. She opened the bed and covered me. "If you need me, just call. OK?" And put out the light.

But I was already asleep. The chain on my leg gave me a wonderful feeling of security. I was chained not to stop me wandering, not to punish me but so that I could not be stolen back to hell again. I had reversed the meaning of bondage: now it was on my side.

10. LIFE IN A PRIVATE PRISON

For several days, perhaps a week, I just rested, slept, ate, pottered. From time to time one or other of the girls would knock and ask me if I needed anything, if I'd like a walk, or to explore, or just chat, or wanted something to eat or drink. Usually but not always, she would be wearing a mackintosh or some other rubber garment.

I at last learnt who was who and what waterproof distinguished her. Every girl had her own totem or trademark mac. Sally the riding mac, Amanda the thigh-length blue rain-jacket lined in yellow, Grizz had chosen a hip-length navy-blue double-texture cape, Mary was usually in a red belted single-texture mackintosh with a hood, Susan wore a double-breasted SBR, Ann a floor length single-texture cape, Jenny a beige double-texture Inverness. Under their macs they wore whatever clothes they liked.

As we chatted I learnt their stories.

Grizz like me, was a veteran of the PPU. She had been through all the things I had, and more. And like me she had, by law, to be kept in chains at all times. If there was an inspection and she was discovered without shackles, she would be taken back into her previous custody I took her advice and was soon getting used to having a chain round my waist and a chain rubbing against each leg. A mere frivolity compared with the things I had had to wear at the PPU!

Grizz and I reminisced about our pasts like veterans of the Grande Armée.

The knowledge that I was triumphing over bondage by being in chains was most satisfying.

Fuck you PPU!

12. THE GRAHAM RAIL

As I slowly became compos mentis with rest and affection I noticed more and more things in the house. One of them was a sort of rail that ran everywhere except in our own rooms. I asked Sally what it was.

"That's a Graham rail" she told me. It allows a slave to go wherever in the house her duties take her without ever being unchained. You see those slots: that's where her chains end in a ball that can never be removed.."

"You mean you have real slaves to do the cleaning and so on?" I began to feel disappointed, cheated, an accomplice of more injustice.

"Oh yes... and they love it! Let's go and ask them".

"Wait! Listen carefully!"

There was an unmistakable rattling sound coming from upstairs; the unmistakable sound of someone moving in chains. We followed the Graham rail up two flights of stairs and came into a room where two girls, dressed in overalls, were dusting and hoovering. They switched the vacuum cleaner off.

"Aha! So you must be young Jane!" Said the one with the duster. "Give us a kiss!"

She was chained by the waist to the rail, and her ankles were fettered.

The other girl was restrained in the same manner. Waist to rail by a long chain, and her ankles shackled by a short one.

To make things easier for them, they both wore steel rings round their necks which a slim chain some four or five yards long, which linked them together.

Not only did they appear enslaved by the rail but also restrained by each other

I was about to say something in protest, but Rachel, the girl who had been vacuuming, put a finger to my lips.

"No dear, it isn’t what you think! We put on our own chains and take them off and vary them – we have a vast selection, lots and lots – because we want to. We do the cleaning and much of the housework here because all these rubber perverts you see swishing about in a state of fetishistic ecstasy, don't want to get their macs dirty. Lazy Princesses! And we enjoy doing everything in chains! The only metal we have on permanently are these neck rings. They're welded, virtually impossible to remove. If you’re interested I'll tell you how they got there..."

"We're not into rubber dear, we're in and into chains. We're into chains because we have been processed by deep psychological programming into loving our chains, we’re in a state of permanent buzz if we're chained and as we are deeply in love with each other, being chained together is more than ecstatic for us, isn't if my Love?"

"Ecstatic!" The other girl, Alice, known as Alice in chains, echoed.

She took up the story. "Want to hear how it happened don't you, Jane?"

I nodded.

"We were nice little girls, fifteen years old more or less, good students, no problems, until, one morning as I and the rest of the group that was to be taken, were all washed, nicely dressed in our uniforms and about to leave for school. The doorbell rang, I opened it, three policewomen burst in, threw me to the ground, handcuffed me and put me in leg-irons. My parents protested but the chief policewoman explained: "She's been accused".

"That was enough to reduce my parents to shocked silence. They went back into the house. I never saw them again and they have never tried to contact me since then. I was frogmarched to a police van. In side were five other girls, all of us mates. I was pushed into a seat along the side of the van, a collar was snapped round my neck. It had a foot of chain welded to a ring in the wall. The other kids were the same. We were all snivelling and weeping. We were told to shut up. A girl who didn't was slapped into submissive silence. The rest of us got the massage."

"We arrived at the Courts of Justice. Our necks were unchained from the van wall but another long chain with six collars was snapped on to us and we were led to a door that said ACCUSED, we were shoved inside. There was a bench where we sat for what seemed hours and probably was. Nothing to eat or drink. No toilet. There was about two feet between each of our collars. The door opened and we were led out, across a passage to another door that said SENTENCED."

"There was what seemed to be a tribunal: a judge, a couple of clerks and a couple of policewomen to keep us in order. Not that we were capable of much disorder, we were so scared and miserable. The proceedings began. The Judge named us one by one. She explained that we had been accused. We protested: "What of?"

"Any protest is considered contempt of Law. If the Police accuse you, you are accused and therefore guilty. In addition to your sentences which are thirty years each with no chance of parole or reduction, I am forced to add twenty more for contempt of Law. You are all thus condemned to fifty years imprisonment. However, as you are minors, you will be confined in a disciplinary centre till you are eighteen. There you will be prepared for life as useful convicts."

"You are sentenced to permanent metal restraints for the whole of your sentences. On arrival at your Dipcent, a metal ring will be welded round your necks. This ring you will not be able to not remove and you will be buried in it."

"And this, dear little Jane is my collar; and there's Rachel's."

"The order came: "Take them away!" And taken away we were! Sobbing, fainting, peeing ourselves. A disgusting coffle in a state of shock. Everything became very confused. We were shoved into another van where we had to sit or lie on the floor. We were driven to the Dipcent. Some hours away."

"We stumbled out. A wardress was waiting. She led us to a very large room with barred windows. There were three big beds, separated by partitions. Rings and chains hung from the bedposts. Apart from cupboards, chairs and little desks, there was very little furniture, only two outstanding items which we later found out were the caning bench and the whipping frame. A large slogan was painted on the wall: OBEDIENCE MEANS SURVIVAL."

"We shuffled around in our shameful and disgusting state, not sure what might happen next."

"The wardress spoke. "Girls, I want you to de exactly as you are told. I am going to unchain you. You will go to the bathrooms over there", she pointed to a glass door with the cane she was carrying. "There you will clean up. When you have finished, you will choose a bed to share with another girl. This will not be difficult as we know you have all been having sexual relations and are lovers. You will put on the dress you find on you bed. You will then go to your desk, at the foot of you bed, where you will find a nice sandwich and a bottle of water. "

"Once out of the bathroom you will keep absolute silence. Any disobedience will be punished immediately. That", she pointed with her cane, "is the caning bench, and that other construction is the whipping post. Now if I push this button on this cellphone"... she pressed it... and two wardresses with truncheons burst into the room.... and left again at once. "So, behave!"

"We behaved. Our snack finished, dressed in clean – if austere – clothes at last, we awaited orders. Too exhausted to do anything else."

"Girls, the wardress said, you will rest now. But first you must be put in your restraints. In this centre, you will do this all by your little selves. You must condition yourselves to chaining and unchaining your lovely little bodies. And beware! Any girl found without the restraints she has been told to wear will be punished. Being punished is no fun! And if a girls is to be whipped, say, her bedfellow will be whipped with her too! Tomorrow or the next day, I'll take you to see the punishments that are meted out here. You will shudder and obey! For the moment, just do as you are told. You have already chosen your bedfellows. There is no limit to the erotic antics you may get up to with her, so feel no shame or inhibition. Just try to make too much noise."

"Under your beds you will find a set of fetters for each of you, Put them on. The mechanism you see is quite simple: snap on, push knob and off." We investigated and obeyed.. "Now girls, undress completely. Hanging from the bedposts you will find a chain with a collar which you will fasten to your pretty necks. Cover yourselves with a sheet If you are chilly, make love if you want, and get some sleep. You need it. If you need the bathroom, undo the chain to your neck-ring - but whatever you do don't forget to snap it back on again when you go back to bed!"

"You heard the lenient judge who sentenced you. You must be kept in chains at all times. At night you must be chained to your beds. That is the Law! Enough for now. Tomorrow morning I will explain what you are here for. Now sleep. And no talking, no noise... apart from amorous murmurs..."

"We slept well, despite all our hardware. Or perhaps because of it. The wardress woke us early, instructed us with morning protocol: chains on, chains off, showers, clean dresses, etc."

"Right girls, you are now going to go to the refectory for breakfast. Put on your fetters and attach this chain to your necks, back to front to back. You walk in single file and in silence. You will be shown where to sit. Once there you may remove your coffle-chain and talk at table."

"And so it was. The refectory was enormous, there were six groups of six new girls: us. Thirty-six second years and thirty-six seniors. A new promotion was imprisoned every year: all girls of fifteen. At eighteen, having been prepared for life as adults, the seniors were sent to their destiny."

"Back at the dorm, as we learnt to call it, our wardress explained the situation."

"Listen carefully girls. We all know you have been sentenced for no reason at all; only because you are good, intelligent students and because you are all very pretty. You are being prepared for a life of slavery, which is how you will pay your debt to society. Oh yes, I know you owe society nothing but nothing can be done about it now! You have been accused and sentenced."

"What will you do here? First of all learn obedience and humility. You will not be ill-treated unless you need punishment. You will help in the cleaning and upkeep of the Dipcent. You will study hard, exercise daily and learn a profession. You will have medical and psychological help if you need it."

"When you are eighteen, according to your performance here, you will be selected for your future destinies. If you do well, you will be A1 slaves and only be offered to very respectable and responsible owners. A1s have the privilege of being sold with their lovers or partners."

"A2 slaves will be made available to less recommendable masters and mistresses and may be sold separately."

"B1 girls are shipped to brothels all over the world and B2 girls are sent to PPUs."

"Let me say that I take a great deal of pride in preparing girls to be A1s. Of all the lasses who I have trained, very few finished at A2 level and only a few hopeless cases were Bs.. I am in charge of your promotion of 36 apprentice slaves and I will do everything I can to help you from having to spend the rest of your days as prostitutes in Bangkok or Vladivostok... or worse as forced labour in prisons."

"So please, please, be enthusiastically obedient, study hard, learn as much as you can and try not to be too unhappy. It is too late to change anything now. You are pre-slave girls now... and who knows what you may accomplish later after you leave here. Not every mistress or master is a raving sadist or disgusting pervert."

"I'm going to leave you for an hour or two to think about things, I have to explain to the other dorms what I have just told you. In the mean time, keep your fetters on, put on the manacles you find under you beds and then chain yourselves together two by two by your neck rings. And whatever you do, never ever disobey: everything you do is being recorded for your final mark three years from now."

"She pointed to the CCTV cameras in each corner of the dorm and left us. She left the door ajar... but who would have dared disobey or show rebelliousness. We chained ourselves up and mulled the situation over."

"When she returned, she told us that we would be going to the blacksmith's for our rings. Going to the blacksmith's was quite an adventure. We were coffled as for breakfast and led some way through the Dipcent. A door swung open... and there was the smith. He was an enormous muscular man with a great belly, surrounded by all manner of iron and steel monastery. He wore a hood like old-time executioners, and a leather apron. He was fettered and he wore a steel collar from which two chains ran. These chains were held by two wardresses. They also held riding crops. When he moved we could see that he had to wear a male chastity device under his apron".

"He talked all the time as he fitted our rings, held our necks to his anvil and protected our skin from the heat of the welding - "Don´t feel sorry for me girlies, I couldn't be happier, I get to chain and collar scores of lovely creatures like you, I am dominated by these two beautiful ladies who never miss a chance to tug me about like a leashed beast and whip me at the slightest pretext, I have to wear a device which means I cannot ejaculate so when the day is done all my accumulated desire is for these beautiful ladies, but not before they have ridden my mouth to their satisfaction, then off comes the thing and I can explode." Blows rained on his back as the wardresses whipped him into silence... their crops seemed to make more noise than cause pain... "

"Oh happy blacksmith!

"And he did a very skilled job with our rings, look, smooth as skin, the join hardly perceptible to the touch... light black stainless steel!"

"Well...

"To cut a long story short, Rachel and I decided to try for A1 status... and we did, and we made it!"

"Yes Alice darling, but first let me tell little Jane here about some of our more impacting experiences."

"We soon fell into a routine: a couple of hours menial work in the morning, preparation for housekeeping (cooking, ironing and so on) then classes, exercise and free time to relax or study. The food was good and we began to find it fun chaining and unchaining ourselves and each other. The nights were long and infinitely pleasurable. Sharing sex in chains is quite "something else"!

"Alice and I decided to study architectural design – we had computers and everything we needed, including first-class teachers who must have found teaching a group of girls in chains most stimulating as they really put their backs into the work. (Unfortunately only their backs...)

"Now we are very much in demand, summa cum laude, degrees and so on, and make a lot of money for our owner. Very useful and lucrative little slaves are we! But we don't hold it against him – things could have been much worse and it's amusing living in a house full of fetishists!"

"And we have each other..."

"All the girls in our dorm – and I think in the whole year – very very obedient and no punishments were inflicted. One of the possible reasons was our being taken to see the penalties that disobedience incurred. We were put on a handcuff coffle and led to Punishment Row. Punishment Row was situated along one side of the busiest street in the city. The offenders were protected from having things thrown at them or being touched, by wire-netting. Anyone who wanted to enjoy the sight or make fun of the victims could get within two yards of them but no further. It was a popular pastime for the honourable citizens... like visiting the zoo for free and not having to feed the animals."

"Our wardress, we called her Sue by now, showed us first of all. the jougs. The offender had to stand on a little ledge about a yard off the ground, fettered and manacled, attached by a short chain from her collar to the wall behind her (or him: there was an equivalent centre for males, and magistrates could sentence ordinary citizens' who had committed misdemeanours, traffic offences and so on, to Punishment Row.

"The girls and boys being jougged wore long grey dresses, the boys grey trousers and shirt.. Very decent.

"They had to hold up placards saying what fault they had committed:

LIAR... THIEF...INSOLENT...DISOBEDIENT...DIRTY...LAZY... GREEDY

" and so on. The ordinary citizens had to declare themselves guilty of whatever the had done:

SPEEDING... DRUNK AND DISORDERLY... PICKPOCKET... NOISY... LITTERBUG

"and so on.

"10 hours a day was spent in the jougs, with a break for refreshment, etc. Then the inmates of the Dipcent went back to their dorms, and the citizens returned home. The number of days spent in the jougs could vary from one to one month.

"Offenders deemed to have deserved harsher punishment were sentenced to a minimum of one month of CR, criminal restraint. Special alcoves had been prepared along the Row to house persons thus punished.

"The offenders were kept naked. A heavy chain. five yards long was padlocked to their neck rings – or in the case of civilian offenders, a heavy collar was provided. This chain was in turn padlocked to a ring in the wall. The offenders were manacled with heavy manacles and fettered with heavy irons. The manacles and irons were joined together by two feet of the same heavy chain... This meant that standing was rather difficult. There was a hole in the floor for waste disposal. Water and gruel were brought twice a day and every morning at dawn, the offenders were hosed down and left to dry out. Luckily the climate here is warmish... A small dais of wooden planks was their bed. And that was all. Just a month in CR, to think thing over, or more time if so decreed; all of which causing the the immense pleasure of the flâneurs on that busy street.

"More despicable offences were punished by whip or cane. At midday a siren was sounded if there was to be a beating, so that the citizenry could assemble and see the standard twenty lashes administered to the back with the heavy martinet, or the twelve cuts to the buttocks with the ratten cane.

"It was a very popular spectacle!

"So we were very good, obedient, meek, hard-working little slave girls, one eye on becoming A1s, the other on avoiding punishment. And we managed both things! Thanks, I must add to Sue who was patient and managed never to have to punish us or get us bad marks.

"It was her who got us the special hypno-psycho-therapy to become enamoured of our chains.

"So how did we end up here in this mackintoshy nest? Easy:

"Himself wanted a couple of girls to exploit. In exchange we would be free to do as we liked. A deal. We make him oodles of money and he saw to it that we weren't bought by a cruel mistress or master. He has never abused us and we can come and go as we like – so long as we aren't caught in town. But to be honest, we prefer being confined to barracks, don't we dearest?"

No answer was necessary apart from Rachel's smile.

So much for the happy chained slaves on the Graham rail!

13. MARY'S STORY

Mary popped in one afternoon. She wanted to talk about herself.. She blurted out that had been orphaned by her father. She explained:

"We were three sisters. I was the smallest. I think my sisters have been married off. I hope they are not too unhappy. Father brought us up from our earliest childhood to be submissive, obedient, meek and subservient little girls with the idea that we would be all those things as women and that we would be able to please our husbands. I cannot remember a day of my childhood when I was not tethered so something or someone.

We had a governess who was to train us for life as wives. She also gave us lessons. That meant that we were not to speak unless spoken to, not to look grown-ups in the face, to sit very straight, to sit still for long periods of time, to do exactly as we were told, to eat every scrap of food however much we hated it, to be spotlessly clean, to learn our lessons and have perfect handwriting and other "virtues". Or be punished and say "Thank you.".

We wore short, narrow capes, without arm-slits, over our uniforms – we wore school uniforms, pinafore, blouse and tie, stockings and clumsy shoes. When we were allowed to walk outside in the gardens, we wore boaters. Our skirts were ankle-length hobble skirts... our steeps were tiny... there was little danger of us running or skipping! And we had collars padlocked round our necks. We were chained to each other by these collars which our Governess unlocked when necessary, which was not often. There was about six feet of chain from sister to sister. Second daughter, being in the middle, was thus doubly chained.

Once a day we were released and undressed. Then we were made to turn treadmills, like hamsters, for an hour or so, for exercise. This always took place out of doors, whatever the weather. Our Governess, Miss Williams, recorded everything we did wrong during the day in what she called her "little book". And in Saturday evenings we were led to our father's study. We knelt down in front of him. Miss Williams then read out all the naughtinesses we had committed during the day. As we only saw Father on these occasions, the experience was doubly frightening.

Father decided what our punishments should be. For lesser misdemeanours we had to stand with our noses against the wall with our hands behind our backs. For graver misbehaviour we had to kneel on our chains with our hands on our heads. And for being very bad – which meant just about everything imaginable, we were beaten. But not beaten by Father or Miss Williams. They never touched us. We had to punish each other.

After having stood against the wall or knelt on our chain for half an hour, the sister to be punished was told to take her skirt and knickers down and pull up her blouse and hold it round her middle. She then had to bend over the back of a chair, hold onto its legs very tightly and be beaten. The number of strokes was established by Father. Seldom less than six. The canes were handed to us, and sister caned sister. Big sister caned middle sister, middle sister caned me and I caned big sister. I never knew their names, only big sister and middle sister. And that is how we were addressed.

As I was smaller and thus weaker, big sister got twice the number of cuts. As is apparently usual in these cases, the girl being whipped had to count the strokes, and miscounting, "dancing" or putting a hand on a buttock meant having the stroke repeated. Not beating our sisters as hard as we could was punished by another caning on the back of our own thighs. Six. (Or twelve if I was to administer the thrashing). When I reached twelve and was stronger, the cuts I give to big sister were reduced to half again, When I reached fifteen, they were as sentenced.

After punishment we had to stand for another half our with our noses to the wall, while Father and Miss Williams chatted and enjoyed a drink. Bedtime followed. We slept in the same room, but talking was forbidden. We undressed, put on long nightgowns and lay on our very hard beds. Wooden stocks were lowered over our ankles and our wrists were strapped to the rails on either side of us. Miss Williams covered us with a duvet and bade us good night.

If we were caught talking we had to spent every night the next month with a stick in our mouths. If Miss Williams found we had shed it during the night, we were to carry it in our mouths all the day. To avoid dirtying sheets by wetting our beds, we slept , stocked and strapped down, directly on top of mackintosh sheets which were alternately cold and sweaty.

Our collars were not taken off at night. They were tethered by a sort chain to the bed-head so that we could not sit up, and hardly look up at all. Not that here was much to see in the absolute darkness. I cannot remember having slept any other way or having spent a day in any other way, or having not been caned of a Saturday night from the time I was little to till I was brought here. At eighteen.

My sisters had been married off. I had become unruly. The more I was whipped the more I rebelled. Eventually Father disowned me, declared me an orphan and put me up for sale.

Himself could not resist me and here I am. I still sleep stretched straight out with my ankles together and I still find the company of other girls unnerving. Apart from father, Himself is the only other man I have ever known closely. He has never mistreated me but he still terrifies me after all this time. I am a virgin and my only sex-life is pleasuring myself in mackintosh – for the moment at least.

I have no wish to beat or be beaten. I have chosen a red mac in order to try to be more assertive. I must admit that the idea of sharing mackintosh pleasure with another girl is beginning to attract me. All a matter of time! And now, Jane, you know all about me." She stood up and left the room abruptly.

14. AMANDA'S STORY

Quite early one morning, Amanda came to see how I was. We chatted for a while and eventually her own story came out.

"I was brought up in a very normal family. Nothing to complain of there except, perhaps, a certain coolness on the part of my parents and a certain arrogance on the part of my macho brothers. I did well at school but... but something went wrong, I fell in with a bad set of girls when I was about fourteen, my school-work suffered and I got into bad habits: smoking, dope and so on. One day we needed some cash so we started shoplifting. And I was caught.

I was hauled up before the Minors' Tribunal. The Magistrate was pitiless:

"Miss Weathers you are a disgrace to your family, your school and your country. You have indulged in foul habits, you have failed to benefit from the blessings of education, you have attempted to steal private property... " He went on pontificating like this for some time until: "Amanda Weathers, as you have not reached the legal age for the punishment I would like to see inflicted on you, namely prison with hard labour in a PPU, I must impose the maximum penalty that you can legally suffer. I sentence you to fifteen years of Military Servitude without the possibility of parole. This servitude will, I hope, in addition to the monthly canings you will receive, turn you into a law-abiding, obedient citizen so that you may be useful to society when you are released at nearly thirty years of age. In the meantime you will learn the basic principles of soldiering and military discipline. I only hope there will be a war so that you can be sent to the front and be killed honourably defending your Motherland, Let her be led in shame to the pertinent barracks."

And led there in shame I was led. And in a state of shock. I never saw my family or mates again. The barracks was a permanent trauma. Everybody shouted at you. All the time. The other "vermin" as we were known, had no leisure to chat or even smile. Nobody did. We were always doing something and if we had nothing to do we did something over (and over) again.

We wore a khaki uniform with webbing, beret and boots. Shirt and tie underneath. We slept in a huge dormitory with tiered bunks. A khaki nightdress was provided for night-time. All our underwear was khaki. We were inspected regularly, and even the slightest untidiness or speck of dust was punishable. When shouted at (we were never spoken to) we had to stand at attention, shoulders back, chins up, breasts out, staring into the distance, We had numbers not names. I had to announce myself as VERMIN 547, if called upon to do so.

The day was spent square-bashing, hours and hours of parade-ground drill. Any other time was to be spent brushing and ironing our uniforms, blancoing our webbing, polishing our boots and cleaning the ancient and probably useless rifle we were issued with. The day started with a run (Khaki shorts, socks, tee shirt and plimsolls.) Food was gobbled standing up and in silence. Every week there was a march with a 30 kilo rucksack. That was all we did. We had seven hours to sleep every night. Drill, marches, spit and polish, mealtimes, cold showers, sleep.

If someone made a mistake on the parade-ground or flagged on a march, the platoon would be ordered to halt. The culprit would then be ordered to take five steps forward.

"Halfwit vermin will bare her back and kneel to be punished:
HALFWIT VERMIN, BEAR BACK AND KNEEL TO BE ... PUNISHED!"
The unfortunate would strip down to her waist and put her hands on her head. The NCO would then lash her back and shoulders with a crop. Usually six times.

"Halfwit vermin will show gratitude:
HALFWIT VERMIN, SHOW ...GRATITUDE!
(The whipped girl kneels up straight and shouts:
THANK YOU MA'AM!)"
"Halfwit vermin will rise and dress:
HALFWIT VERMIN, RISE AND... DRESS!
Halfwit vermin will return to ranks.
HALFWIT VERMIN, RETURN TO... RANKS!.

And the drill or march could continue. Interruptions of this kind were frequent. Worst of all was the monthly caning. There were the days of anticipation leading up to it and the pain in the behind that lasted for more than a week after it. Along with five other vermin, the third of every month was my day for the cane.

At reveille the five girls would be ordered put our boots on and then to strip naked. Our ankles would be ironed round the tops of the boots, which we were allowed to keep on.. A belly-chain would be padlocked round our middles, A chain ran from the front of this down to the middle of the leg-iron chain. There were handcuffs on the belly-chain to hold our hands close to our bodies.

The shackles were of the traditional British design, small enough to not let girls or women slip their hands out. They were I suppose, leftovers from the days of empire when slimmer orientals had to be chained up. Our "caning ponchos" were slipped over our heads and buttoned at the neck. These ponchos were of rough khaki cotton. They fell to just above our buttocks. In that way everybody could see the area that was to be caned.

We spent the whole day like that, just wandering and clanking round the barracks, forbidden to hide or sit down, As our hands were chained to our middles, we had to depend on the good-will of other vermin to be fed, wiped after using the toilet, etc. One made friends that way, not that there was ever time to enjoy that friendship. Or that it was encouraged. An hour before supper time:

"Vermin to be caned will parade at Punishment Stations:
VERMIN TO BE CANED, PARADE AT PUNISHMENT... STATIONS!"

"Our chains would be taken off and we would be ordered to use the toilet. Then they would strap us down down on the caning benches. above the knees, over the waist, over the neck and wrists down to the sides. Muscular NCOs would then cane us as hard as they could. It was a challenge for them: the bruises and other marks from the month before were, they hoped, to be still visible, and if not, they felt obliged to lay the cane on harder than ever in order to make sure the results could be seen the next month.

Snivelling and with snot running down our faces, we would be unstrapped and shackled up again. They slipped our ponchos on and send us on our way with a slap on the bottom. Now it was time to find some other vermin kind enough to wipe your eyes and blow your nose! We stayed like that with our shameful welts exposed, with our bums burning, but which we couldn't touch, during the rest of the day, till shower time. Day after day, month after month. I was only fifteen, God damn it!

Well, to cut a long and painful story short, I spent two years of my fifteen doing Military Servitude. I was the first girl to be rescued by Himself. That was four years ago. At first we had some difficulty establishing how our relationship should be. I was his first convict-slave and neither of us knew how to behave.

Himself is a good person. He isn't cruel. But he is attracted by the idea of slavery, he loves to see us in chains and, of course, he is an ingrained rubber fetishist. At the same time, he is a liberal person, he doesn't want to harm or humiliate us beyond role-play. He is excited by the idea of whips and canes, he is excited by us because we have been beaten and abused, but he wouldn't harm a fly, indeed the whole notion of causing pain in any form, the whole business of cruelty, makes him furiously angry.

Perhaps that is where the balance between the erotic and the sadistic must be kept. At first he felt he should keep me in chains and locked up. But little by little he understood that while chains might be a stimulus for him from time to time, they were a bore for me to wear all day and all night. And if I was not happy, neither was he. But we worked it out. I wear this rubber rain jacket – khaki of course - and we all enjoy it. He loves to see me in it and now I have been "processed" as Himself calls it, I get a permanent buzz from the rubber.

I do quite a good job assembling lampshades and things to make money for him, I do my share of the housework and so on. I have plenty of time for myself and am free to invite a boy in if I want to and free to make love with any of the other girls if they want to too. Rather like marriage: half for love and affection, half for money and security with someone kind. No chance of love as such with Himself, his heart has been given away, but affection and security are worth working for. And heaps of gratitude!

I can slip into town if I have his permission (he always says yes). But we know that if I am caught, he will have to say I had run away; and I'd probably end up in a PPU for the rest of my days. No Jane, I don't go into town often..."

JENNY'S STORY

Jenny visited me one evening.

Jenny, mysterious Jenny, a tall figure in a blue silk dress.. Her long blonde hair in a single braid behind. A beautiful woman with aristocratic features and intelligent eyes.

"Jane, I haven't come to chat. I've come to tell you who and what I am so you know what to expect from me. I am a computer expert and have had training as an economist. I make sure Himself doesn’t get any poorer. I'm pretty good at that. I write and practice yoga. I am an excellent cook and an excellent dress-maker – which is one reason why I am not enveloped in my mackintosh this morning. I'll leave it there on the sofa. If you want something made, just ask me."

"Yes", I stammered, a bit overwhelmed by all this.

"Why am I here? Because Himself bought or negotiated my freedom, such as it it. "Freedom", as the song goes," Freedom's just another word for nothin' left to lose."

"I've got very little left to lose and much of it I wish I could lose. Things have been done with my brain and my physiology that can't be undone. I haven't been branded on the outside, I've been marked within. Yes, I’ve been processed, which is a blessing. Let me start at the beginning. I come from a remarkable family. My parents loved each other. They were very talented and worthy people. I had no problems with my brothers. I was a brilliant student. A successful future lay at my feet. But I had one little defect: I thought! And a second little defect: I felt empathy with the oppressed.

And what I saw in the society round me was quite unbearable. Especially the way women were treated. I got involved in what might be called "politics". Nothing to do with parasitic parties vying for votes. No. Necessarily subversive politics. And that was to be my downfall. I was seized one afternoon and taken to a hospital. The MCI, Mental Correction Institute. After innumerable tests and check-ups I was declared psychotic and sent for treatment. There was little I could do to resist. The nurses were experts in controlling mad people. Trying to reason with the doctors and scientists only made things worse.

For a long time, I don't know how long, I was subjected to all sorts of psychological and chemical treatment. Sleep deprivation, broken patterns, noise, silence, sensory deprivation, strait-jacketing, electricity, cold showers and anything else they had in stock. As I was doped practically all the while, I lost all sense of time.

What they were doing, I don't know how, was preparing me for a scientific demonstration of the inferiority of women. They programmed me to have a crisis of sexual desire, a crisis that had, absolutely had, to be satisfied by an orgasm. I was encouraged to masturbate when there was no one around to caress me or give me cunnilingus. A paroxysm of oestrus every twelve hours! I still have them. But don't worry Jane, the next one is due at midnight. They are uncontrollable. Either someone satisfies me or I masturbate.

They had perfect control over me: all they had to do was tie me down and let me pleasure myself … but only if I promised to do as they said. I could only give in. A series of conferences were organised at hospitals, universities, lecture halls and so on. The theme was

INNATE DESIRE FOR SUBMISSION IN THE HUMAN FEMALE

And I was to demonstrate this innate desire which had been installed in me. This is how it went. A spacious cage had been built for me, with a stool and a pallet. I was put inside this cage and locked in. I was always naked and wearing what I think are punishment chains as per PPU on my wrists and ankles. There was always a collar round my neck. A chain long enough for me to move around in my cage, was fastened to the top. A voluminous black cloth covered the cage.

All this was wheeled out on a dais, to the centre of the amphitheatre or hall where the demonstration was to take place. As the cage was in the centre, there was no way I could turn away from the eyes of the audience. So I just sat there with my eyes closed. The loathsome person who I called Doctor Shithouse in my mind, would address the audience wearing a white coat of office. His spiel was something like this:

"Ladies and Gentlemen (yes Jane, women came to these lectures to have their submissiveness demonstrated to them) what you will see here now (The time was always calculated to coincide with a crisis) will demonstrate scientifically that the female is sexually aroused by her submission, and thus her subservience is in the natural order of things.

"Here" the black cloth was pulled off the cage, "here we have a brilliant young woman a PhD, a Master (not a Mistress" laughter in the audience) in several scholarly fields. She has been examined by psychologists and neurologists who have declared her to be of sound mind and body, a person of exquisite sensibility and extraordinary intelligence. She is a clean-living girl, a virgin – something rare in a spinster in this day and age- and a firm supporter of our time-hallowed social system.

What? you might ask, is she doing naked and in chains in a cage? Jennifer Rivers has volunteered to be the physical proof of women's desire to be dominated. She has volunteered to be submitted to the tests you will shortly witness" (He glanced at his watch) "in order to root the values of our society more firmly in the collective consciousness, thanks to scientific proof of the reality of the female psyche, in the face of the criticism such thinking may have received in some discontented and decadent areas. Thank you Miss Rivers!"

Here I was to bow and smile. Doctor Shithouse went on:

"Miss Rivers has volunteered for this demonstration knowing herself to be a modest, bashful and discreet young lady who has never experienced carnal sexuality. See how she keeps her eyes chastely closed! That is why, Ladies and Gentlemen, she is naked. Her shame and modesty at being naked before so many respectable people is calculated to inhibit any possible libidinous inclination in so pure a girl. And she is in chains, Chains have always been symbolic of slavery, submission and obedience. She wears them with dignity and patience.

And they are the punishment chains we have had sent from a penitential institution Chains that are used only on the most recalcitrant of convicts. Yet this innocent girl does nor even rebel, or struggle against them. She sits meekly in her bonds. They are PUNISHMENT chains but she does not protest. She is conscious of the female's need for punishment, even preventive punishment, and she accepts it willingly.

She has a collar round her neck and a chain tethers her to her cage, The collar is a time-honoured symbol of slavery and servitude, She is chained like the animal she basically is: by the neck! She is manacled: her hands are only allowed to do what her master or owner or any male person lets her. She knows the manacles are there keep her out of mischief and she is grateful!

Her ankles are fettered. This means that she can only go where she is allowed to. In other words her movements are not her own but her master's. A chain runs from her manacles to her fetters, thus passing in front of her genitalia. The significance of this is clear: her sexual life is not her own. Her chains represent symbolically the ideal state of woman. Nevertheless, the fact of having to wear them before this learned audience must surely inhibit arousal of any kind. Her chains are, on the contrary, an incentive to chastity and demureness. Almost to temporary frigidity."

"Now observe, Ladies and Gentlemen, " He glanced at his watch again, " I am going to show her this whip" He took a long black crop with a whippy end from the side of the dais.

"Open your eyes Jennifer dear, and look at the whip". He poked it through the bars. His timing was spot on: fight it as much as I could, I felt a crisis coming on. I tried to control it but my programme was stronger than me. I began to tremble.

"Observe, Ladies and Gentlemen, how, if I touch her nipple with the tip of the whip, she trembles but does not shrink away!"

I could not help not shrinking away, even the tip of a whip on my nipples was better than nothing!

"The whip, as we all know, " He went on,"is symbolic of man's domination of women. A whip is a penis and the flesh of the female is the receptive vagina. Throughout history slaves, servants, women and girls of all kinds have been whipped into their natural submission... But what have we here?"

My crisis had started. I fell from the stool onto the pallet and writhed and rolled about frantically, trying to resist the overwhelming urge.

"You see, good people, that the mere fact of being naked, chained and touched by the tip of a rod, instead of nullifying any type of desire or arousal has turned her from a model of modesty into an animal on heat!"

I was desperate. "Please, please, touch me with something, anything, anything, rub my cunt with the tip of the whip!... I'll do anything you want but give me a touch! "

I couldn't help myself, The urge was stronger than anything else on earth. The audience was murmuring and commenting. Dr Shithouse shouted at me:

"Masturbate you bitch on heat! Show these good people what the basic nature of a woman really is!."

I brought myself to a final glorious climax with much writhing and rattling of chain. The cloth was then pulled over my cage. I lapsed into semi-unconsciousness but was able to hear, as I heard after every scientific demonstration, the vile doctor Shithouse say as he bowed:

"QUOD ERAT DEMONSTANDUM"

Such was my life for nearly a year. That is how my feminism was punished. Two or three lectures per week and two shattering crises and their corresponding self-gratification per day. Himself managed to get me transferred here God knows how. Perhaps he threatened to reveal how the trick was done... I have been as happy as possible under the circumstances. But it would be lovely to have just 24 hours without an urge.

Having me processed to rubber was the best therapy we could find. With my cape round me every waking and most sleeping moments are ecstatically delightful, And that takes a lot of edge off the crises."

She went to the sofa and wrapped a magnificent hooded Inverness cape in rubber-lined black shantung silk round herself. She swung it backward and forwards and we listened to its swish and enjoyed its sway.

"One thing, Jane, before I go: Never ever believe medical or scientific studies and tests unless you do them yourself or see every stage of the process!"

She kissed my cheek and left.

15. SUSAN AND ANN

My own room... My Own Room!... I had a room of my own! Even if I had to be chained there by my ankle. It had a chest of drawers with all the clothes a girl could want or need, a cupboard for dresses and jackets, and a second cupboard devoted exclusively to rubber and rainwear. I was shy of it at first, and only opened it to investigate when I was sure no one would visit me. I sometimes plucked up courage and tried things on. I felt a bit guilty and ashamed at getting a slight thrill from the rain-wear. I forced myself to repress it. I hated to think that I might have been freed from the PPU only to be a fetish object for "himself" as the girls called Lord A...

When any girls popped in, first they unchained my ankle and helped me into the same restraints as Grizz had to wear about the house and garden. They were not uncomfortable and they gave the feeling I was being protected. They were more like amulets than restraints! Grizz told me that on two occasions Special Inspectors had burst into the house to see if she was properly restrained, and had had to go away disappointed. On one occasion they even surprised her being chained for a punishment...

The girls were all very affectionate and informative. They showed me the various workshops and offices, the kitchens and dependencies, the extensive garden, their own rooms and the rooms they had in common. Little by little the scars on my soul faded.

Then one day two of the girls, Susan and Ann called at the same time. Both were wearing long brown rubber aprons which was chained and padlocked to their necks, chained and padlocked round their waists and again behind their knees. The were naked inside their aprons, their backs and buttocks exposed.

"What on earth?..." They explained that they were to be whipped that evening and that it was a rule of the house that girls who were to be whipped or caned should spend the whole day clad only in an apron and with the parts of the body that should be flogged bare for all to see. It had been Jenny's fault: she found something in the internet about orphanages before the war where this system was applied to naughty children who were to be caned, poor things.

Susan fiddled with my computer and came up with this:

"Here I need to explain about the special punishment apron. It was made of thick stiff red rubber and there were different sizes, so that each sized child could have one that fitted her from neck to ankle. It was fitted with a chain to go tightly round the neck and another for the waist, which was locked on with a small padlock. This, of course, was symbolic, because, once you were wearing a punishment apron, you were already in enough trouble without daring to take it off!
"The apron was not exactly uncomfortable to wear, but, because of the stiff material, it was impossible to forget about it or ignore it. It also made a sort of ‘frou-frouing’ noise when you walked and was a constant reminder to everyone of what was waiting for you that evening.
(…) "One of (the) worse ideas was to make us wear our rubber aprons over our night-dresses as we ‘paraded’ and any orphan who knew they were going to be punished, had to parade in the apron alone. The first time that the Duty Mistress came in to administer an official punishment and found the victim wearing just the apron, she raised her eyebrows, carried out the caning and left without a word. We knew then that this practice (...) had been officially sanctioned and would become standard."

"Good God! And you two? Aren’t´t you frightened of what's going to happen? Whipping and all that?..."

They laughed. "Whipping here isn't what you might think. Two of us are whipped every Saturday and today is Saturday. We're looking forward to it, it's one of the highlights of our week. First of all we get to be chained into these aprons, which is quite exciting. The rubber flapping about and the chains clinking as we move or walk, turns us on. And our nipples rubbing against the rubber. We love every moment of it..."

"But the whipping, " I asked, "the pain? Are you masochists or what?"

"Masochists only as far as playing submissive is fun. Let me tell you how we are whipped here. First we have to wear the apron all day with everybody teasing us and patting our bottoms and coming up behind us and caressing our breasts inside the apron, or, better, through it.. When whipping-time comes, still with our aprons chained on to us, we are attached to the whipping frames – you haven't seen the frames yet my love, they're in the punishment room. We haven't shown it you yet so you wouldn't be alarmed... but now you ask..."

"But whipping? I've been whipped and never want to be again..."

"Ah! But it all depends how it is done! Once one of us is chained to the frame, the chains behind our legs are released. One of the girls, usually Sally, she loves doing it, rubs the rubber of the apron against our breasts while the other girls to be whipped kneels in front of the punishee and devours her womanhood. When an orgasm is reached, the roles are reversed."

"But that isn’t a whipping at all..."

"Oh, but it is. A thousand or so lashes of the tongue to a clitoris is quite a flagellation, especially when a girl who has been conditioned to rubber has her breasts stimulated though the apron. But don't worry, it'll soon be your turn."

"My God! And what about caning, how is that done?"

"Caning is for girls who have misbehaved in some way. Been rude or bad-tempered. Caught smoking. Not helping with the housework, Being slack at their jobs. They have to be accused by two girls who take her to Himself. Himself judges whether she could be caned or not. If she is to be caned she wears her punishment apron all day too. And in the evening she is taken to the punishment room and strapped over the caning bench. Another girl slips her hands under the apron to caress her breasts while another fingers her to a climax. She can ask for a strap-on if she wants. And sometimes Himself fucks her there... or buggers her if she asks him to. Caning is not so popular as it means you have done something you shouldn't have and nobody likes that, do they?"

"But whether it is a whipping or a caning, the punishment continues until the punishee screams in unbearable ecstasy and the rest of the community applauds. Bottles are opened and the evening passes nicely. The punishees have to wear their apron till bedtime and if they are in luck they might manage another climax or two."

"Sounds a bit more fun than the PPU. Tell me, do girls ever run away?"

"What on earth for? Where on earth to? We've got everything we want here. We can go into town and do what we like there so long as we're back before 12 pm. (A caning if you're late). I don't know if that would be possible for you, what with the chains and everything, but except for Grizz, who never leaves the grounds, we're white-collar convicts- fraud, embezzlement and so on – and our regime is different from you two assassins. Which doesn't mean that we would not be thrown into a white-collar prison if we were caught wandering about town. It would get Himself in trouble too, so we're very careful.

If we want sex with a man, or a woman or a dog, or fall in love, or anything like that, we're free to use the outhouses – there are three of them, all nicely appointed, warm, clean and comfortable.. Himself gives us permission to hire a prostitute if we want to, but we have to tell him so he can check up on him or her. I think it's been done only once. There's no place like home.

There was one girl a few years ago who fell in love with a guy, a nice guy, and now they have two kids. They live over the garage and we don´t see them much. Our goings-on aren’t quite suitable for children. They come at Christmas and on high days and holidays, or they invite us and we put on our most vanilla clothes, hide Grizz's chains so the kid's can't see them. It's a pretext for Himself to display his social charms, affection and generosity..."

"Other girls have homosexual relationships here, like us, we're like a married lesbian couple, which doesn't stop us enjoying ourselves with you, for example, if you are willing. Right?" she asked Ann.

"Yes, of course my love. Remember Blake: "Sooner murder an infant in its cradle than nurse unacted desires." I have no right to curb your pleasure nor you mine and as we love each other it doesn't matter, does it?"

She ducked a cushion. "Jealous bitch!"

She went on: "Himself blessed our union with a ceremonial whipping, only he did the under-apron work for both of us, and that is why we are always intimately whipped together when it is our turn.."

"As far as men are concerned, it is hard to find men who are capable of combining sex, affection and fetishism. When you do, it's marvellous. But men all too often feel guilty about it and get nasty. I would say that all of us are perfectly happy here and, should we run away, we would have every chance of finding ourselves back in prison, PPU or worse."

"I wonder, little Jane, what your love life is going to be now you're here, but from the way you keep resting your pretty little head on Sally's double-texture shoulders and bosom, I think a union has been made, if not in Heaven, at least in spite of Hell!"

I blushed. And tried to change the subject..

"Tell me what did you do to have to be taken in here?"

"Well," said Ann, "Susan and I were shut up in the same place, the WWRU, Wayward Women’s' Reform Unit. This was where a man could send you if you displeased him, or bored him, or were disobedient, or refused him sex, or committed adultly, whatever...

You know the aberrant laws of this aberrant country: a girl is free to do more or less as she likes until she gets engaged or married. Even a verbal agreement before witnesses is enough! Then she becomes the property of her fiancé or husband. He can do what he likes with her so long as he doesn't kill or maim her. And she must obey him absolutely. In all things. He can get rid of her at any time. He just goes to the police, registers a repudiation and that's that.

In Susan's case, her husband repudiated her. She was only seventeen and had only been married three months. He had already repudiated a couple of girls, the bastard. My fiancé caught me flirting with his best friend... and I was out on my ear. Of course, I should never have entered into any legal agreement with him... but love is blind and men like him only want to cull one's youth and beauty and then move on to other flowers..."

"The next morning the policewomen arrived. Tough and impersonal as nails. As I had been repudiated, I had to leave everything that had once been mine behind. Not only clothes but rings and earrings too. I was led, handcuffed and naked, to a police car and thence to the Magistrate's Court.

After I had been mugshotted and fingerprinted I was taken before the Beak. He was a crapulous middle-aged man whose decision was already on a sheet of paper in front of him; it must have been the same for all the girls who had come before him. He didn't even bother to ask what I was supposed to have done but, after running his eyes over my nakedness for some time, he read the following text which I almost know by heart, it is the same one as was read to you, isn't it, Sue?"

"Surely..."

"Ann F, having been legally repudiated by her owner for rebellious and indecent behaviour, now becomes a ward of the State. She will be remanded in the WWRU until such time as she may be considered to have reformed. Once in that Institution, she will perform such tasks as are demanded of her. Any form of disobedience or rebellion will be punished. Repeated misdemeanours may lead to her being incarcerated in a stricter centre. Let the ward be delivered to her place of Reform."

And delivered I was. The words "until such time" repeated themselves in my head. It looked like I was going to be spending a long time "performing tasks".

Well, to cut a long story short, I was delivered to the WWRU, which was not a strict or sadistic place – one was always on one's best behaviour so that perhaps someone would think you "reformed" and let you out, Ann arrived at more or less the same time so we were new-girls together. Most of the girls spent their time assembling staionary and things. The food was good, the dormitories comfortable... but there were less pleasant aspects, as Sue will tell you"

Susan took up the tale. "As soon as we were settled in given our uniforms, had our bed allotted, met the other Wayward Girls and so on, we were given a medical check-up during which our pelvises were very carefully measured. A couple of weeks later our chastity-belts arrived and were fitted. Then it was explained to us that we were abnormally pretty and that our job would be in the Zoo. Looking after animals? I wondered, cleaning out cages? Was prettiness really a prerequisite for working a a zoo? I didn't know if there were any animals there at all. Nor were there!

We were to join the other animals and those animals were girls like us. We were undressed and taken to a zone where there was a series of cages, independent of each other. A steel collar was fastened round our necks. A heavy chain ran to a ring in the wall. The chain was just long enough for us to reach the bars and press ourselves against them. We were told what we had to do. In order to earn our keep and prove that we were being satisfactorily reformed. The public was let in from 4 to 6 pm.

Gus, an enormous man, some 140 kilos of strength, kept them in line. They could chose the following services from the chained girl at these very reasonable prices, if I remember right:

5 coins: 5 minutes fondling the girl’s chastity-belt (Supplement for oral contact: 5 coins)
10 coins: 5 minutes fondling the girl's breasts (Supplement for manacles: 5 coins)
20 coins: 10 minutes being caressed by her (supplement for caressing with manacles 5 coins)
25 coins: 10 minutes sucking the girl's nipples (supplement for having her manacled : 10 coins)
50 coins: 15 minutes fellatio (supplement for manacles: 5 coins, fetters: 5 coins)
50 coins: ejaculation between breasts (supplement for manacles, 10 coins)
100 coins: Entering the cage to whip the girl. 10 lashes. (Supplement per extra lash 5 coins Supplement for manacles and fetters 20 coins Supplement for a genuinely painful whip: 50 coins)
100 coins: as whipping but caning.
100 coins: subjection to a whipping or caning by the girl. (Supplement for genuine instruments: 50 coins)
Other services can be arranged with the guard.

"Gus took the punters' money and let them come up to the bars, one at a time. The others waited outside. There were two wider spaces in the bars, one at breast level, the other at pelvis level and the chain to our collars let us get that far and no further. When a client paid to whip or cane us, Gus let him into the cage and kept close watch on him while we knelt. Luckily neither of us were never given the painful whip or the Singapore cane. But after a beating we were allowed two days off. Beatings stung!

Gus was discretion itself. He would turn his back on whatever goings-on were going on, but I knew all the time that he was vigilant and would protect us. Every girl, let it be said, had her Gus.

As we still believed that we were being reformed and would one day (soon?) be freed, we were always obedient and enthusiastic, even with the more repellent customers. Gus was in charge of chaining and unchaining our wrists or ankles as the clients ordered. He never took advantage of us. He never even showed anything other than gentle good humour. He was always cheerful and civil. And thanks to his enormous but discreet presence, there was never any trouble.

As Zoo service was considered particularly arduous (as well as being particularly profitable) the rest of our time was "free". There were computers, books, DVDs and so on. All in all it was an instructive experience... but not one I would like to have to repeat. Now I know a lot more about the male of the species, which is why I love my darling Ann. Though I enjoy a clean handsome male from time to time … when I can get one..."

"In a way we were doing a service to society. Who knows what those poor frustrated men, incapable of relating to women in a normal way, who knows what they might have got up to if we hadn't been there to wank them off and act out their fantasies! An act of charity and social hygiene! Mother Teresa in chains!

"Neither do I resent the intense pleasure I gave to a man I called Mr. B, every Saturday afternoon. He was in early middle age, well-dressed, distinguished, quite good-looking, well-spoken: a gentleman! After his first visit he spoke to Gus and arranged to hire me for an hour, once a week. He wanted me in full chains. Every Saturday at five he would arrive punctually, pay Gus and give him a bottle of excellent wine. He also brought flowers and chocolates for me.

He spent his hour watching and caressing me and at the same time making sure the chains were jangling, often holding them while he ran his hands over me. But first he had another chair brought in and we sat and chatted about little things: my life in the Unit, football, the weather, his business problems. We might have been a married couple. He was never offensive and his hands were skilful and brought me to the nearest things to climaxes as was possible in a well designed chastity-belt. At about a quarter to six he would ask me politely to open his flies, and use both hands to make him ejaculate, which he did with charming elegance. Then he would thank me nicely and say goodbye till next week. Yes, I do not regret having given such a nice man so much pleasure."

Ann commented: " I had my share of oddities too. There was a a scruffy young fellow, probably some kind of clerk, who hired me for half an hour at a time, two or three times a week. He wanted me chained hand and foot. He never touched me, only asked me to keep moving, sitting lying standing kneeling and so on. He never ever touched himself either and I never saw he had an erection. After his time was up he said "Thank you" bowed slightly and left."

"My guard was the opposite of Sue's Gus." Said Ann. "He was a little Japanese who we called Matsu. Couldn't get his Rs and Ls right: "Corral, Miss Ann, Prease, List manacres, Miss Ann, Fettle time , Miss Ann, Crient fol frogging Miss Ann." He was delicate and chained and unchained me very carefully and with no trace of arousal, as if I was a valuable animal. Which I suppose I was.

"Once every Sunday, a fat sweaty young man came. At first I was afraid he would want to touch me, but what he wanted was to be beaten, One week the whip, the next the cane. And the "real" whip, not the noisy but unpainful thing used in spanking movies, and it was the the Singapore cane that he wanted!

"I looked at Matsu agahst. I had never beaten anyone before. Matsu bowed and said. "Want frog, get frog. You punish sevelely Miss Ann!"

"And so I did. I made him undress and, for the whip, kneel holding the back of the chair. I held my neck chain taut in my left hand so that it wouldn't thrash about, and whipped him as hard as I could. He sobbed and shrieked! When I had drawn a little blood, I stopped and made him stand with his hands holding the cage bars till the half hour he had booked was up. Then I told him to get dressed and get out. There he was again the next week. For the cane. This time I bent him over the back of the chair and beat him till he started bleeding."

"Top-notch thlashing, Miss Ann. Miss Ann top-notch mistless!" Matsu congratulated me every time this young wretch paid to be chastised. I was pleased at the aleatory portmanteau word "thlash" combining "thrash" and "lash!" Nevertheless I always felt a little sick after punishing him.

"Still, as Susan says, it's better to have these unhappy men satisfied rather them have them out there doing somebody harm. And now I think about it, if the kind of sons of bitches that repudiate their wives and fiancées had had their unrealised desires satisfied, we wouldn't have been there at all, nor many like us"

"And that my dear is how we spent some six or seven months until Himself, God bless him!, got us out of there. Not that his motives were purely altruistic. He felt deeply sorry for us, he had studied our files, he has seen we were attractive, he could tell we were sensible and sensuous at the same time, he wanted to be surrounded by pretty girls, he wanted girls he could train as rubber freaks, like most men, he was stimulated by the cruelties we had been subjected to, but at the same time he wanted to live up to certain ideals of freedom, he was ready not to ill-treat us, to give us a refuge and so on in exchange for all that. So God bless him!

Had it not been for him, who knows where we might be now? But there are still hundreds of girls like you and like us who are being tortured out there. It is best not to ask what Himself may or may not be doing about it. Personally I feel he is active which is great but it might mean our little refuge could be busted at any moment... He can't be in very good standing with the authorities. Perhaps that is a sort of safeguard."

"And Himself? What's his private life like now?"

"Jane, Jane, never ask! The one, the only, unwritten rule of the house is never to talk, speculate, criticise or comment on what Himself does with his private life. And that´s that!"

I was put in my place.

"But I can reveal dear Jane, that there is a lady somewhere. We hardly ever catch a glimpse of her, but sometimes he can be seen in the gardens, walking hand in hand with a girl, or woman...

"And when an important ceremony is to be held, like the one that we'll be having to welcome you, Himself comes accompanied by a person in a burqa, who never speaks. I think someone, I can't remember who, once said she had caught a glimpse of a girl with a terrible scar down one side of her face. But I'm not sure about that. Maybe I dreamt it. "

"Anyway, Jane dear, tomorrow is going to be your great day. Tonight you go to bed nicely chained up and early. Tomorrow you will wear a punishment apron over your legal chains all day till evening. In the evening you will be most ceremoniously whipped and admitted as a full member of this household. If by then you haven't succumbed to the delights of rubber mackintosh, you will have to undergo a programming treatment to turn you into a rabid fetishist like all of us."

"What kind of treatment?"

"Physically, you are strapped down for several hours a day in or under all kinds of rubber and caressed to the point of orgasm until your nervous system comes to associate mackintosh with pleasure and the feel, sound, smell, swing of rubberised cloth possesses you and enters your soul. It will be accompanied by hypnotism sessions. In the end you will find you have been given a wonderful new dimension and in this household you will find the means to wander in it, to find the lineaments of gratified desire. You lucky girl... We lucky girls!!"

"So you will spend the day chained into your apron, being patted on the behind, teased and having your breasts fondled. Just before the ceremony you will be asked to choose your emblematic mac. Just as some girls have a cape or a jacket or a riding mac or an Inverness, to characterise them so you must choose the coat that you want to represent you here. In your cupboard you will find – or have already found – the macs. Try them all on and choose the one that is the most you."

16. JANE IS TO BE WHIPPED

"Well my lovely Jane, you have been warned! You are about to become one of us! If you like I can help you chose your personal mackintosh before going to bed. Come here and let me undo your body chains and tether you to your bed. We don't want any Special Inspectors carrying you off!..."

I was now naked and tethered. We opened the cupboard. There were at least thirty coats, capes and suits there. The aroma was breathtaking even for me and I hadn't even been programmed yet! In front of the full length mirror we tried on coat after coat, cape after cape, rain-suit after rain-suit, poncho after poncho.

L'embarras du choix !

"Now Jane darling, you really must make a choice. It's getting late and tomorrow is your big day. Think: do you want rubber next to your skin or the cotton of a double-texture?"

"What I really want is a riding mac like yours. Let me try it on again." I slipped on the heavy mackintosh. Raised the collar and closed the storm collar. There was a strap at belly level that I pulled tight. I fastened the leg-straps … And that, said Jane, was that..."

"Remember your A.A, Milne?

Jane had Great Big Waterproof Boots on; Jane had a Great Big Waterproof Hat; Jane had a Great Big Waterproof Mackintosh -- And that (Said Jane) Is That.

"But Jane, the riding mac is my emblem here, and mine alone. There can only be one of it or one of me. Do you know why I chose it? Because it is the nearest thing to motherhood I can get. You remember how you kept murmuring "Mummy, Mummy" when we were driving back from the PPU? You do? That shows I am right. Any other coat would be frivolous or sexy but in this" she ran her hands over her front "I am a mother.

And do you know why I want so much to be a mother, Jane? Because I can't be. My crime was Sexual Subversion, as any form of spontaneous love is called. Thirty years without parole. But that was not all: prison was not so harsh, it didn't need to be: we were destroyed as women. We were all operated on. Our clitorises were ablated, our tubes were tied and irremovable staples were inserted to narrow our vaginas for ever. Our nipples were desensitised permanently – they harden and expand but they can´t feel a thing. That was me: sterile, incapable of orgasm, unable to fuck and raving for love."

It was terrible to see this beautiful woman collapse in misery. It was my turn to console her.

She went on "I managed to sublimate my impossible urge into maternal feelings. I'm Aunty Sal to the kids that live over the garage and they can always count on me to babysit or anything like that. And now you've come along and I am a mother in love, I can spoil you, protect you and give you intense pleasure.. If you accept me,"

I nodded vigorously, my eyes filling with tears.

"I will look after you like a mother. But remember, I am a little embittered and I'll punish you if you are bad.. I'll want to whip you. Not very painfully, just with a small martinet."

"I found an entry in the Internet that was very exciting: I felt inspired to emulate Fiona, the mackintosh mother: look, she typed quickly on my computer:

However, as I came to puberty I began to get special feelings both about wearing a rubber riding mac and about being spanked. I came to associate one with the other. Whether my mother realised this I do not know but she started to beat me whenever I was naughty with one of my own riding whips. This only resulted in my fetish (for I now realise that this was what it was) getting worse. I used to purposely go out whenever it rained without my mackintosh to invite a whipping despite the fact that with a riding crop it really hurt.

I loved wearing my mac tightly belted and always with the collar turned up and I insisted that I was bought one with a fastening on the collar to button round my chin. I always buckled the leg straps whether I was walking or riding and that gave me an extra feel of restriction. If I went to show or Pony Club event in the rain I loved looking at all the other children, as we said, "well macked up!".

I have never lost this fascination with rubberised riding macs and still have a couple. I have treated my own daughter in exactly the same way as I was dealt with by my mother. Her reaction has been just the same. Throughout her teenage years she seemed to will me to punish her by being obstinately disobedient over wearing her riding mac and I used to insist that she always did it up terribly tightly.

She, like me, got used to the gym shoe or slipper on her bottom in her childhood years but more recently I moved on to using her own whips. I would tell her to take her mackintosh and all her whips up to her bedroom and wait for me there. After an hour I would go up, make her spread the mac on the bed, kneel beside it and bury her head in the rubbery cloth. I would then sort through her whips, commenting on them in turn before selecting one and giving her perhaps five or six cuts across her bare bottom with one. She never cried out though she wriggled a good deal. I never used a schooling whip - they are far too dangerous.

"Yes Sally. Let me be your little girl. I need a mother more than anything else. Punish me as much as you like. I need that too. After so many really cruel punishments, a gentle loving maternal whipping may be just what I need to exorcise my demons."

Sally went on: "One reason I chose a riding mac as an external expression of my real self is that it is the most fortress-like mackintosh I could find. It is like a walking prison that protects me from my own impossible sexual sensitivity. I can't enjoy sex, my nipples are numbed, but being enclosed in this heavy double-texture stuff means that every move I make, every breath I take gives me intense pleasure, not on my so-called erogenous zones but on my whole skin... and not only my skin... all my senses come alive as if everything that has been forbidden me by surgery is canalised into my whole organism, It is something meta-sexual, something infinitely more sensual, more spiritual, more emotionally satisfying than simple sex. You have hardly ever seen me take it off. That's why"

I went on looking for the right mac in the cupboard. "Look Sally! What about this one? It was double texture but with a lighter cloth than Sally's.

Knee-length. Belted. It felt lovely on. and rippled prettily. Black with a bright red lining. There was a hood too. I pirouetted in front of the mirror. Yes, it was perfect. "This is the one. Black on the outside to mourn all the things that have been done to me and red inside for the passions that are being awakened. A hood to hide myself under. I shall wear it unbelted, the belt I shall pass between the loops at the bank to remind me of the bondage I have been rescued from but which can no longer repress me."

There was a long pause.

"Well Jane, well done! I think you should go to bed now, you don't want to be tired tomorrow."

"Nonsense, I'll take a siesta. Tonight I'm going to be a bad girl and stay up late looking at myself in the mirror and dreaming."

"Stay just where you are – not that you can go far with that on your ankle. I'll be right back"

"Where are you going?"

"To fetch my martinet. I'm going to Fiona you!

She returned after some time. "Couldn't find the blasted thing! had to borrow one from Ann."

The martinet had a leather-covered handle and nine short leather thongs.

"Take your mac off, spread it on the bed, kneel and bury your face in it and steel yourself".

I managed to get the coat off but not without a bit of a struggle, not because I didn't want to obey Sally but because the mac seemed to want to cling to me like a lover. It didn't want to be taken off...

"I'm not going to whip you hard tonight You'll be showing your back and bottom all day tomorrow in the apron and wouldn't do to advertise stripes and welts., now, would it? " She gave me an exquisite Fiona-ing.

"Off to bed with you now!"

"Sally, could you stay a little longer please, I'm a little scared of tomorrow. Would you mind holding me a while? Please.

"Ah Jane, you'll be my ruin! As if I had nothing better to do than console silly little girls! All right, take off you mac, I'll take off mine, we'll cover ourselves with them and I'll rock you to sleep.

Jane, Jane I'll take off your chain,
Jane, Jane I'll put on your chain (Nice little song there...)

I'll fish out your fetters and put one shackle on each of our ankles so we can be united.".

She did. She undressed and we snuggled under the waterproofs, but not before I had noticed Sally's superb physical condition. Obviously she did a great deal of correct exercise. I hoped I would be able to join her soon in whatever she did. I remember someone mentioning that she always went with Himself when there was a possibility of some bother, because she was expert in some martial art or other.

Thus, chained together, each of us with her wounds healing, we lay in each other's arms. One girl whose five senses were abnormally receptive, whose pleasure was not localised in genitals or breasts and the other who was aching for comfort and affection.

It was to be a long and wonderful night!

When I woke up, Sally has gone. Not without having fettered both my ankles together while I was still sleeping. . Some sense of humour! I kept the chains on, sentimental fool that I am, thinking of her, while I bathed.

A few minutes later as I was admiring myself in the mirror with my black red-lined emblem on, Sally came in.

She did not speak, just stripped the mac off me, undid my leg chains and replaced them with my usual waist-to-fetters ones.

She opened a cardboard box she had brought with her and took out my apron. It was light brown, the rubber was quite thick and shiny and the chains looked rather bigger than necessary. (Just as well as I found out during the day: being large they didn't cut the skin. )

It was a most unprepossessing and humbling garment.

"Whipping day, Jane, whipping day!" She held the apron to my chest and padlocked the top chain round my nape. Next she padlocked the mid-part to my waist and the lower end behind my knees. I was aproned! She pocketed the keys.

She folded my emblem mac over her arm. " Once you've been whipped it will be yours! But not till then! Now let's go for breakfast so everyone can get a good look at you ."

It was only then that she kissed me, but chastely, on the cheeks. It was to be a special day.

I was teased and groped and fingered and fiddled with and pinched and patted on the bum all special day long. I bore it with embarrassed but happy stoicism.

I even managed a short snooze that afternoon.

After a light supper which she brought me in my room, Sally told me to wash and pee and so on as it was time to go to the punishment room for my whipping.. She walked behind me, pushing me along – the chain behind my knees didn't make for big steps.

"Relax child, relax! You'll love every minute of it!"

17. CLIMAX!

The punishment room was dimly lit. I could see the other girls in their rubber finery, sitting round the wall. Himself was there a girl at his side. At least I suppose it must have been a girl. Though inside a burqa it might have been anything. The burqa itself was, of course, a beautifully swaying, rippling and swishing single-texture cloth.

The whipping frame stood floodlit on a dais. It was of massive wood . The manacles and fetters were open and waiting for me.

There was a sort of pit with a chair in it, in front of the frame.

Sally pushed me gently towards the frame and helped me up to it. She chained my wrists to the manacles hanging from the top beam and my ankles to the sides at floor level.. I stood facing my audience, legs spread, behind my apron.

Himself spoke: "Jane, do you consent willingly and freely to be initiated into a most profound form of fetishist slavery? To become a pervert? Do you realise what this implies? You still have time to retract. You will not be returned to prison if you do, you will be allowed to stay here unmolested and be well-treated as an ordinary servant, and with no other involvement than the chains you are bound by law to wear? Should you consent, you have my word no harm will come to you nor will you be treated with contempt."

The words croaked out of my dry throat: "Yes, Sir, I do. I consent freely and willingly... and gratefully too."

"Well said little Jane! Let the whipping proceed!"

Ann and Jenny now got up and came to the frame. With a great sussurrus of their coats, they caressed my nipples through the apron rubber. When they were satisfied with my arousal, they called Sally, who unpadlocked the chain behind my knees.

Himself stood up, approached and sat down on the chair in the pit in front of me. He pulled his chair up to me, lifted my apron over his head and while stroking my thighs and buttocks, began to suck and lick my womanhood.

I held on for as long as I could. The honour of having my master give me cunnilingus and the presence of all the girls, made me hold back for as long as I could. Then I could hold back no more, it was too much... I saw colours in front of my eyes... I shook and rattled my chains... the rubber rubbing my nipples increased in intensity... I screamed... it was the Big Bang... I was created.... I could die for pleasure... I was reborn...

There was applause.

They unchained me, removed the apron, helped me into my red-lined black emblem. They smothered me in kisses, welcomes and congratulations.

Himself had slipped away with his emburqa'd lady.

I shut my eyes, put my head on Sally's lap and wept and wept. The party went on around me.

Jane had come home! Jane was free!

 

 

You can also leave feedback & comments for this story on the Plaza Forum

26.02.13