Slave Woman's Grave Keeper Pt. 09

"I'm OK, too!" she would yell. Though she knew her own words were somewhat mangled by the trauma her tongue had experienced and the weight of the chain attaching her new piercing to the thick leather hood. "Keep your strength, Piper! Don't worry about me!"

Her handlers never did anything to prevent her from these communications, but as soon as they were done spritzing her mouth and, perhaps, toweling Maisie's bald head and the sweaty interior of the leather hood, they would efficiently repackage Maisie as she had been before and swing her cage back out into the void.

After the first "watering", as Maisie now thought of it, she noticed, through squinted eyes, that her Dirt Room handlers had sound reducing ear muffs strategically mounted on their heads. As soon as Piper's humming song went unanswered, Maisie could hear Piper become angry and the tones would grow until they reached an inhumanly loud scream - shrill and jagged. Maisie's own hood had ear cups that protected her from Piper's vocal attack, and she would shake with laughter, proud of the strength of her lover's spirit.

Now, though, Maisie had simply been chained to a padded seat in the small gym. Not only was the climbing machine in the room, but also the moving floor thing on which they made her run, a massage table, and other strange and torturous looking machines with handles and pedals to pull and push. One wall was covered in mirrors allowing Maisie to see her head for the first time since her hair had been taken. An even sheen of stubble already covered her head. Her face was splotchy from being squeezed in the hood and her naked body was smudged with dirt and streaks of sweat. She could use a shower. On the other hand, she looked kind of bad-ass!

One of the Dirt Room girls sat down in front of her and held out a nozzle for Maisie to suck on. She was not particularly happy to be fed in this manner, but she was completely starving after such an interminable time trapped in the small cage and brain-baked in the suffocating leather hood. She eagerly wrapped her lips around the nozzle and the Dirt Room girl squeezed some kind of mush into her mouth. It was thick and mostly tasteless, but supposedly, it would fill her up and give her energy.

"You must eat it," the Dirt Room girl said as Maisie began to get full. She did not fight when more was squeezed into her mouth across her swollen tongue.

"I didn't even realize you could talk," Maisie said after quickly swallowing. "I thought maybe you all had your brain cells beaten out of you. Read any good books lately?"

The Dirt Room girl said, "I have not read." Her head flinched briefly and then she resumed feeding Maisie.

"Well, I recommend reading, if you have the chance. You could learn about all the better things in life than torturing innocent women in the darkness of an underground dungeon."

"You have it easy," the Dirt Room girl said.

Shortly after the food was gone, a second Dirt Room girl arrived and set a chair behind Maisie. She had brought in a tray with shaving equipment. Maisie tested the security of her wrist cuff as she looked longingly at the straight razor.

"Maybe you could clip this stupid chain off this tongue ring," Maisie said as the woman behind her began to lather up her head with shaving cream. "It's causing me to drool a lot and it's really bringing down my new look."

"Chains are your friend," Dirt Room girl number one said.

"Ha. Funny. Chains are my friends?" Maisie said.

"Restriction over amputation."

"Oh." Maisie decided she had no more to say.

After they had finished shaving her head, they rubbed an ointment into her scalp and used a towel to polish her head until it was almost shiney. When Maisie looked in the mirror at her hairless appearance, she felt more alien than bad-ass.

The two Dirt Room girls unlocked Maisie from the chair and moved her to the massage table, where they spent time strapping her down securely. She was on her stomach and her face was pressed into a circular headrest that was open in the center allowing her to see the chain dropping from her mouth into her leather hood resting on a shelf just below her face.

She heard another person enter the room.

"She appears well secured." It was Dr. Norost's voice. "Why don't you go wheel in the Tongue, Marit?"

Hands appeared before Maisie's eyes. They picked up her helmet and flipped it around apparently examining both inside and out. A chair slid into view and Maisie saw the doctor's knees as she sat down, continuing to examine the hood. A box cutter type knife was in the doctor's hand.

The leather hood was much more complex that Maisie has noticed before. After all, she hadn't really had the opportunity to examine it. It was just a hot, constricting, sweat-dampening emptiness that wrapped her senses up in its vast void. Now though, with her head restrained and eyes unimpaired, she noticed a web of ridges running across the surface. Between the ridges - flattened areas enclosed with tracks of perforation.

The doctor began to cut out the flat areas with her blade. Maisie had hoped for destruction, but she quickly realized that the cuts were well-planned and she began to fear the implication of the results. For, none of the restricting features of the hood were modified. There was still the thick, contoured pad that would seat firmly over her eyes. A stiff cup was still available to restrain her jaw, preventing her from opening her mouth. There was a sheath still, for her nose with two small reinforced circles to ensure the passage of air. Finally, there were the two cups that would fit firmly around her ears muffling all sounds.

Maisie worried though that with the opened spaces between the remaining webbing, she would not sweat as much and subsequently no longer need to be cleaned. Indeed, she watched the doctors hands test the way the sealing laces that would run along over her crown to the nape of her neck could be manipulated so that only specific individual components of the hood's collection of restraints could be loosened. For example, the jaw cup could now be loosened and folded away so she could be fed while still blind and deaf.

At one point the doctor looked to the interior of the remaining webbing of the hood and Maisie saw a grid of metal strips sewn into the straps. Also, there was some sort of connector at the back into which an electrical cable could be plugged.

Maisie maintained her silence throughout the doctor's examination and modification of the leather hood. She was angry and determined and fearful of a twinge of hopelessness she felt. Would they really go so far as amputation as a means of restraint? Why wouldn't they? Her sentence was for life. She was now a non-person. They could simply execute her if they really wanted to. They could do the same to Piper. That was Maisie's greatest fear.

Regimes change. Political prisoners are freed. Sometimes injustices and righted. Maisie had to maintain hope, if only for Piper's sake. A new Princess was coming to the land - the Princess of Cowen. She was supposed to be fairly progressive. Maybe she would hold sway. Then again... If they wanted her to exercise for some strange experiment, then she would. She would make herself so strong that it would take more than two Dirt Room girls to keep her in check.

All too quickly, the doctor finished modifying the hood. They released Maisie from the massage table and sat her on a padded bench with stirrups for her legs. The modified hood was stretched over her polished bald head. The eye pads pressed firmly and the cups over her ears stifled the sounds. As they began to push the chin cup into place, Maisie screamed, "Don't hurt Piper!" Still the cup pressed firmly against her chin and the straps were tightened.

Maisie felt a tug on her tongue. Someone was pulling the chain that fed through the small hole in the hood, anchored to the piercing on the tip of her tongue. The doctor must have leaned close to her ear. She could hear her muffled voice. "Piper is a lovely woman. I like to hear her sing. I like the way she screams in anger when she can no longer hear you. I'll take great care of her. So long, that is, as you follow every command without fail. If you don't then her song will turn to screams of pain, and we'll even take these ear cups off so you can enjoy her voice properly." The doctor patted her head.

Maisie made fists with her hands and jerked her legs briefly. "Take it easy, my little mouse," the doctor said. "You will enjoy this. You should savor the experience."

Maisie felt something sticky being pressed against her nipples - some kind of cloth covering being attached to them. Next she felt the Dirt Room women systematically sliding some sort of slick material up her legs. Never unlocking too many restraints as they worked - just enough to accomplish their task. Eventually, they stood Maisie up as the smooth, stretchy material was pulled over her hips. Her arms were fed into sleeves which ended in tight mittens. Finally the suit was zipped up from behind and Maisie felt a padlock being applied.

Fingers began to manipulate her sex. Apparently, the suit had an opening there and the cut of the suit framed her sex leaving her quite exposed. Maisie was pushed back down on the bench and shortly, her legs were pulled apart held well splayed by the stirrups she was locked into. Her arms were locked at her sides.

She was left for a while, lying, mostly immobile, in her muffled darkness.

Maisie felt warm, humid breath tease her sex. Something touched her vaginal lips and she flinched, but straps applied around her waist allowed her little movement. There was something warm and moist touching her down there. Then it began to slide up her lips, slowly and methodically teasing her lips apart.

"Piper?" Maisie queried, though, with her chin held tightly by the cup, it came out as no more than a grunt. It was a tongue. There was a tongue on her sex.

The tongue was withdrawn and then reapplied making a wider and more encompassing contact. Maisie could feel a series of humps along the surface of the tongue - perhaps some kind of piercings. So, this was not Piper, and Maisie grunted in protest. The tongue slid up her sex again. A tingle of sensation flushed Maisie's sex - a bloom. The tongue slipped over Maisie's clit. The piercings were set in pairs along the length of the tongue - spaced just perfectly to maximize contact and slightly squeeze as they slipped past Maisie's clit, when, with a shuddering little thump, the next set of piercings caught the engorging flesh. Thump... thump...

Maisie was confused for a moment. She should resist. Thump... thump... But why resist? What would be the purpose? The tongue withdrew, but then pushed past Maisies defenses. Striking deep. Prodding. Then the tongue withdrew again.

Once again, Maisie felt the tongue and its smooth, rounded piercings slide across her swollen clit. Thump...

Maisie groaned and realized that she was starting to breathe hard. Air was whistling through the grommeted openings in the nose sheath. She pulled her lips apart and huffed into the chin cup. Thump... thump...

Why not take pleasure when she could? Her muscles flexed and strained against the restraints. This was so much better than hanging in the darkness of the cage... Thump... thump...

"Oh!" Maisie yelled into the confines of her leather hood. "Piper!"

But this was just a random tongue... Not Piper...

"Oh!"

Thump... thump...

This was also not just a tease... Maisie slipped over the edge and bucked her hips against her restraints.

"Ohhh! Ahhh!!"

0 - 0 - 3 - 20:52 - Aife

"...and my third mother was a horse," Zeigh was explaining, unprompted. "Her name was Mangalarga and she was permanently dyed white and black. She had fallen and severely broken her leg. She was afraid that they were going to put her down or out to pasture, so she decided to take up the mothering life, I guess, just to save herself. Makes sense, but I don't think that her heart was in it. She had a bad limp..."

"Shh," Aife said, grabbing hold of Zeigh's leash. "I think that we may have a bit of trouble."

The particular alley they were in was seedier than most, but in an area where Aife had built up a bit of respect amongst the scum that drifted through this area. Certainly, most were respectful of Aife, but she was worried that they may try and take Zeigh. She should have stuck to main roads.

"...She was my mother when I had my first period. Most of the women that I lived with were on serious birth control which suspended their cycle, so, this was not something that I had much experience with despite what you'd think. I mean, I'm not even sure that I knew where babies came from at that time. Proper education is not a priority for slaves, I guess. Well, Mama Larga - that's what I called her - said that horses just let the blood run down their legs. It shows how tough they are..."

Aife's thoughts: Two men approaching - not familiar with them - they're looking at Zeigh - wait until they get closer to react - I have a knife in my backpack - no time to get that - I'll need to use Zeigh's leash as a weapon - it's long enough and has sturdy chain links...

"... luckily that's about when Karma took me under her wing. She's a bit older than me and even though Mama Larga was my mother for six years or so..."

"Hi there, Tiny, what d'you got there?" one of the men asked Aife.

Aife's thoughts: He is the smaller of the two - he probably only outweighs me by sixty to sixty-five percent - he seems to favor his left foot - I'm kind of thirsty - maybe there is a weapon in his boot ...

Aife ignored the men and kept her pace, pulling Zeigh up close behind her.

"Come on T.C. Don't be rude," the second man said.

Aife's thoughts: A bit rotund - probably cannot knock him down easily without some kind of anchor - he is the slower of the two though - stay away from his fists...

"Yeah. You'd be so much prettier if you would smile," the first man said. "Anyways we just want to see what you're pulling along behind you. Do you have a little slave girl? Maybe we could evaluate her worth."

"... this is kind of a new situation for me," Zeigh started up in a loud whisper. "Generally, men that I am in contact with in the castle have more teeth..."

"Don't fucking touch my slave," Aife said with a calculated degree of venom. They had blocked her way through the alley.

"We just want to take a look under her robe, Tiny Cunt," the smaller man said.

Aife's thoughts: the smaller man is going to try and touch Zeigh - grip the leash firmly at the handle - the bigger man is standing on his heels with a dumb smile - surprise will be my advantage - am I dehydrated - there are two more men down the alley, but they don't seem to be together with these - ignore Zeigh's rambling - the smaller man is reaching out towards her now - flick your wrist, Aife! - no holding back, these chain links need good momentum to trail well - put a little corkscrew in your motion - that's a good enough loop to fit over his hand - now pull down and away!

"Fuck!" the smaller man said. Links of chain tightened around his wrist and pinched the skin. Zeigh stumbled toward him pulled along by the leash attached to the metal collar around her neck.

Aife's thoughts: OK - shoulder into Zeigh - push her into the smaller man - bigger man still on his heels - hasn't yet realized that his life is in danger - disregard Zeigh yelping - smaller man going down - arm still wrapped in chain - don't let Zeigh trip - now, yank the chain hard - twist away - left leg, kick towards bigger man's fat belly - grab Zeigh's robe - anchor! anchor!...

The chain which had been looped around the smaller man's forearm was suddenly ripped off taking quite a bit of skin with it. Zeigh had fallen into the man, knocking him off balance and sending him into the dirt.

Aife's thoughts: The bigger man is buckling forward, gripping his stomach - he's going to have a hard time breathing for a few seconds - the leash chain is clear from smaller man's arm - is there enough chain? - big loop with the chain - bigger! - swing it forward - it's around the fat man's head - now, pull! - a third man is approaching...

A loop of chain whipped over the bigger man's head and wrapped around his neck. He fell to his knees pulling Zeigh on top of him as there was not much chain between the man's neck and Zeigh's collar.

Aife: Let Zeigh fall down on top of the fat man - plan to step on her butt to gain sufficient height for the next leap - don't step on the small of her back - smaller man is still on his knees gripping his bloody arm - need to apply another move after my legs are securely locked around the third man's neck - even chances that I may break fat man's neck during the leap - fucking idiot - Oh, well...

"Stop! T.C., stop!" the third man screamed holding his arms up.

"Dogg!" Aife froze, her lips pulled back in a snarl. Zeigh continued to tumble over the fat man and fell onto the dusty stones of the street. The smaller man was starting to get to his feet. Aife watched him through her peripheral vision, but otherwise remained motionless prepared to strike.

The third man, Dogg, started laughing. "Boys, you were just about to be killed. You don't know how lucky you are that I happened along."

"That fucking bitch! Look what she did to my arm!" the smaller man yelled, blood seeping between his fingers.

Aife flicked her wrist and the loop of chain ensnaring the fat man's neck flipped away. He sucked in a raspy gasp of air. Otherwise, he stayed on the ground.

"Looks like T.C. has got herself a fuck toy. I don't think that she likes to share her possessions, Emmet," Dogg said to the smaller man.

Aife remained motionless still, poised to strike. Zeigh began to stand up.

"At ease, Tiny," Dogg said to Aife. "No one's going to touch you or your whore."

"I'm going to fucking kill her!" Emmet said. "I'm going to fuck her and then kill her!"

"Ah ah ah! You're lucky she didn't break your arm, Emmet. T.C. has free passage through this neighborhood. You know that. And it includes her possessions too," Dogg nodded to Zeigh who was dusting herself off. Her hood had slipped off her head and her hair was sticking out all over the place.

The fat man was coughing, still lying on the ground.

"Holy Goddess of the Broken Chain's Fist!" Zeigh exclaimed suddenly. "Did you see that?" she asked, apparently to herself.

Aife looked over at Zeigh who stood with her mouth open, her eyes fixed on Aife. Zeigh's steady stare soon began to make Aife uncomfortable. Finally, she grumbled to the men on the ground, "Keep your fucking hands off my slave!"

Aife pulled the hood of the slave robe back over Zeigh's head, gently pushing stray locks of hair under the fabric. Finally, she gave Zeigh's chain a short, sharp pull and the pair continued down the alley leaving Dogg laughing, Emmet cursing and the fat man coughing in the dirt.

0 - 0 - 3 - 21:42 - Ileana

The human woman was still asleep when Ileana slid into her dark sarcophagus. She moved gently trying her best to not disturb her ward. Ileana knew that she had been particularly cruel recently. But, she felt, it was necessary. The human had to understand that her survival was totally dependent upon more than just the physical protections that Ileana could provide, but also she must assume an appropriate mindset. There is a huge difference between physical survival and mental survival. Ileana could keep the human alive indefinitely, particularly since she was so tightly restrained, making it impossible to injure herself. But, Ileana had to use tricks to keep the human woman alive mentally. And even with her tricks, time was the human's enemy.

This was the third visit since she had torn the human's flesh. Already, the wound had closed and fresh layers of skin were quickly erasing the evidence of Ileana's abuse. Such was the healing power of Ileana's milk - to wash away wounds and aches.