A Special Day In The Life Ch. 01byhotbox©
It's a normal day so far. As I lay curled up on my side in my cell, I watch the first hint of dawn through the barred window high up in the stone wall ten feet above me to my left. It's pretty. All rosy and pink. It's the only light since this cell is pitch black otherwise. I try to scrunch down inside the tattered scrap of rag that's my blanket and ignore it but I know "They'll" come for me soon. I'm right. You can set a clock by them... if you aren't a slave and have a clock. I hear the click clack of stilleto boots in the corridor outside
I know I'd better kneel up and prepare for inspection so I do. I struggle to my knees by leaning against the rear wall of my cell. It's hard but I have to do that since my wrists are manacled behind my back so tightly, one link of chain. The rough stone floor of the kennel is so cold on my knees! But if I'm not ready for Them I know I'll get a couple lashes and maybe a few kicks. I bend down to grab my blanket with my teeth, fold it neatly and drop it to my right. I hurry to straighten it with my knees. It's so small that it's like a foot square and a ½ inch thick when folded. I miss it already. I'm naked except for my collar with its heavy chain to the wall ring. I know where and how I'm supposed to kneel. We learn quickly after only a few lashes and barked commands. I move to the required center of my cell, kneeling sitting back on my heels, my shoulders back and head held high. They must be able to see me plainly or I will be disciplined. The chain from my collar drapes down my back loose, hanging from the massive iron ring bolted to the wall a few feet behind me.
Two guards come in through the heavy iron door as usual. I can always hear clattering keys for a second and the locks clank as they unlock it. Then the huge door creaks open. It must be hard to even move that thing. The guards always huff and puff and grunt.
It's the usual two guards. Black leather uniforms, real butch buzz-cut hairdos. I don't know their names because why would they tell a slave? If I'm asked anything I just answer "Yes Mistress" to everyone anyway, so it doesn't matter.
They do look hot though. I've been trained to think of "Them" only in terms of instant obedience, and total submission. It does not take long before you dream longingly of their domination since it's about the only human relation you have. Their uniforms only enhance your fearful admiration. Thigh-high stiletto boots with spurs, leather skirts that come only halfway down to their knees tight across their butts, leather corsets with lots of buckles and laces, all with motorcycle jackets with chrome studs over that begin to mean undeniable authority to you. Their spiked leather wrist bands look so cruel. Those inch long spikes are sharp, I know. The matching studded belts slung low across their hips really sets it off too. With handcuffs, whips, cattle prods, keys, and heaven-only-knows what else hanging from those belts you know they mean business.
The blond one shines a bright light in my eyes. I straighten my back even more, thrusting out my bosom farther. The brunet rears back and cracks her whip an inch from my ear. I can feel the wind blast but she doesn't hit me. I must have done it correctly today. I bow down all the way, forehead on the stone floor..
"Good morning Mistresses!" I chirp cheerfully, " this slave begs to ask how she may serve today please?"
They ignore what I say but i know if I had not said exactly that I would have been lashed or zapped with the cattle prods.. The brunet unlocks the padlock from the wall ring while the blond holds the light.
The brunet wraps my collar chain, which is now my leash, around her left hand twice. She lashes at me with her whip and does not miss this time. I don't know why, perhaps I moved an inch. My right shoulder sears with sharp pain. The tip of the whip curls down to my tit. That will leave a welt I know.
"COME bitch!" she barks at me and yanks my chain twice. I have not been given permission to stand yet so I crawl after her as fast as I can.
The blond zaps my right ass cheek three times in rapid succession. "STAND UP you stupid fucking slave bitch! Do you think we have all fucking day?" She screams at me.
I stand at once and hurry to heel the brunet who's already walking out the door tugging on my leash.
Outside of my cell I see the usual line of slave girls. I smile at a couple because the guards are busy and not watching me. That's really brave of me actually cause without permission we are not permitted to do anything at all. Just that smile and I could have been lashed or zapped. I like honeypot though, she smiles back too. Her name was Sasha before she was enslaved but we are not permitted to use those names.
The brunet stomps up and down the line of girls lashing here, zapping a girl there, barking "STAND STRAIGHT! TITS OUT!" a couple times while the blond padlocks my leash to the back of Sasha's collar. All of us slaves are in one long chain now. I'm fourth in line. At the front of the line is the biggest baddest bitch guard of them all. She must weigh four hundred pounds. She's got a tight grip on Candy's leash and is whipping Candy's tits non stop, pretty much for fun as far as I can tell. I can not see Candy's face but I'm sure she's just biting her lips together to be sure to make no sound without permission.
The bad-ass bitch guard YANKS Candy to the next cell and of course we all follow. Our chains are only about three feet long so we get to be pretty good buddies this way. If "They" are not looking we frequently finger the girl behind us when we bump together. Since our hands are chained behind our backs we might as well have a little friendly fun even if it is dangerous to risk a lashing.
I hear the clattering of keys, the whole creaking door routine again. I hear Sally beg with the proper fake cheerfulness, "Good morning Mistresses!" This slave begs to ask how she may serve today please?" A couple whiplashes later, Sally is fifth in line behind me.
I grit my teeth as the blond walks up and down the line zapping us. The brunet lashes here and there almost at random. They must love their jobs. None of us dare say anything, not even a whimper. We know better. I guess when the guards are sure we're totally cowed, completely under their control, the Big Bitch yanks Candy's chain. We start marching down the corridor. This is the way to breakfast.
Still chained collar to collar, about three feet apart, we are poked and prodded, lashed and zapped toward a trough of goo laying on the stone floor. It's a foot wide, three or four inches deep. It's full of slave porridge. We all kneel before the trough, hands folded behind our backs as best we can, shoulders back, boobs thrust out. We wait until given permission to eat. I'm not sure what it is but it does keep us alive. It tastes like dog food. It is warm, or was maybe an hour ago anyway. Sometimes I find a hunk of melon or a piece or fish in there. It's a surprise every day. Don't swallow the feathers though. They give me the runs. I think they're from seagulls found dead on the beach. The head Guard barks "EAT!" and we all stick our faces in the goo. Lapping it with our tongues, sucking up a hunk of meat is what they want to see. "Good training" is what They say.
After about five minutes The Big Bitch always yells "KNEEL UP!" Of course we stop eating immediately and settle back on our heels, good posture with tits out, hands still folded behind our backs. We'd better do it fast and all at once or whips fly, believe me! We do. Actually five minutes is enough. I'm always full. As icky as it is, I think it's fortified with vitamins, probably designed for livestock but good nourishment nonetheless. Most of us have goo on our faces, in our hair, dribbling down our bodies. How could we not? We are whipped without mercy but allowed to lick each other clean all while They scream "FILTHY ANIMALS!! DISGUSTING SLUTS!!" at us. They must love their job. It's the same every day. But Sasha and I are good buddies now. She licks me tenderly and carefully. Actually Sally and I do each other as best we can too, all with no hands allowed, only lips and tongues, hands must still be folded behind our backs in our manacles.
After we're inspected and judged to be clean enough, we're dragged out of the room. After a trot down a few corridors, for exercise I think, we're dropped off one at a time to different jobs so-to-speak. They always start with the last girl in the chain.
Today I sneak a glance out of the corner of my eyes as Sally is unlocked from the back of my collar. I see her leash handed to a Mistress with a wicked smile on Her face, dressed all in maroon latex. Sally immediately falls to her knees and starts kissing and licking the Mistress' feet. I don't know that Mistress but She looks SO wicked hot I bet Sally is going to have a fun day. I'm not paying enough attention and feel my collar tugged as the line moves away.
I know I'm next. I swallow hard. Am I going to scrub floors in shackles? Will I have to belly dance or sing? Perhaps I'll be chained to a huge kettle in the kitchens to make slave porridge? Maybe some Mistress wants to try out new torture devices? I shudder. It could be anything. We are objects, toys, property to be used any way at all. I'm next is all that I know.