Gotcha Ch. 01

Jen was surprised with the tenderness with which Wendy fastened the collar. Part of her disorientation was the way in which Wendy's mood seemed to swing between vicious brutality and gentle concern. Once the padlock had clicked into place Wendy slipped her fingers beneath the collar, pulled Jen's face up to hers and kissed her long and hard.

"God, you taste disgusting!" Wendy pushed Jen away. "There, you look so much better with your collar on; aren't you grateful that your allowed to wear my collar, allowed to be my slave?"

"Yes, Mistress." Jen thought it best to reply in the affirmative.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire!" Wendy laughed. "You hate my guts at the moment, this wouldn't be any fun if you didn't, but, one day, you'll thank me; one day you'll grovel at my feet and worship, and be grateful for being allowed to do so, do you know that?"

Never Jen thought to herself but, wisely, she kept her mouth shut.

"If you're as grateful as you say you are," Wendy continued, "you can demonstrate it by kissing my feet. Let's see how good you are at that."

As Jen shuffled down and bent over to kiss Wendy's feet Wendy picked up a file from an occasional table and started reading. It was almost as if she were oblivious to Jen's ministrations and, after some considerable time, Jen, feeling that she was being ignored, slackened off.

"Did I say you could stop?" Wendy lowered the file she was reading and glowered at Jen.

"No, Mistress."

"Well, get on with it then, and try to be a little sensuous, you're supposed to be gratefully worshiping, not pecking away like some sort of demented bird."

As Jen settled back to work she realized that this was going to be harder than she had thought; she couldn't just go through the motions, Wendy was far too astute for that; if she were to survive, literally survive, she would need to throw herself into this body and soul. And what had Wendy meant about some day she'd be grateful for being allowed to worship? Surely no one could want to do this; Her body was a mass of hurts and pains, her backside and anal tract in particular felt as if they would never recover, her arms ached from being locked behind her, she had lost her freedom and was being forced to perform degrading acts; how could anyone want this?

Eventually Wendy put down the file she was reading, stretched and pushed Jen away with her foot. She must have rung some sort of concealed bell because, within moments, a maid appeared.

"Ah, Juanita, piglet here will be staying in the special guest room until further notice. Will you take her down for me, please? We'll want a six o'clock start tomorrow."

Juanita took Jen by the arm and led her away back down the steps into the cellar as if this were a normal, everyday occurrence in the McCuskell household. Who knows? Maybe it was. Whilst she wasn't harsh or brutal her whole demeanor countered any thoughts Jen might have had about striking up a conversation. Juanita opened the door to a small, white painted room , led Jen inside, undid her wrist cuffs and, before Jen could react, left closing the door behind her.

Jen rubbed some feeling back into her aching shoulders and looked around her cell. There was a bed, a shower, basic toilet facilities and not much more. In particular there wasn't a light switch. Jen sat on the bed, only to get up again. Her poor bruised backside wasn't going to allow any comfortable sitting for a while. She went over to the toilet facilities. Above the sink was a mirror and her battered reflection stared back at her. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were red, and she looked awful. Around her neck was the collar, sparkling in the bright light, but, pretty or not, it was surely the symbol of what she had become. Her spirits fell, how could she go on when all the options in her life were so awful.

Without warning the light went out and the room was plunged into darkness; the only glimmer was the dim red glow from the light on the inevitable CCTV camera, presumably working in infra red mode. Jen felt her way back to the bed and lay down carefully on her front. Sobbing gently she lay there in the darkness until, finally, sleep came.