The ENF Catcher Pt. 01

There was I. Arms and head locked in a pillory. It wasn't affixed to poles in the ground, but rather to a chain that my captor was holding onto. He was up on a horse, riding slow enough for me to keep up but forcing me to keep a steady pace. I was his prisoner.

I was also completely naked.

It was, of course, completely humiliating. We had passed by so many people - not just on the road, but through villages. The pillory felt tight around my wrists; my arms ached to be lowered to cover my breasts and pussy but were locked securely next to my neck. I felt every brush of air on my naked body. I felt every glance and stare and grin and grimace too.

I was the prisoner of an ENF catcher. I had a bounty placed on me, and he had tracked me down, made me strip naked, and then tied me up and dragged me through the countryside. Any disobedience and he spanked me - hard. My ass was red raw after I tried to escape that one time.

~~~~

My captor lead me through the woods to a building. The front of it was modern and clean, with a stable attached to the side. I could see that the back reached further than a normal building, especially an inn one would find in the woods, which confused me and left me curious. A young man came out of the stable; my captor climbed down from his horse and handed the reins to the boy. I wasn't sure whether to be offended or relieved when the boy didn't give my naked body a second glance. I wondered how many naked women had passed through here, that mine was simply another piece of meat to him.

My captor pulled on the chain connected to my pillory, and I obediently followed him into the building. It was a beehive of activity. There was a central desk at the entrance with a woman sitting at it. To the left were desks within cubicles and dozens of people writing; to the right were couches and chairs with people dressed like my captor, sitting and reading and talking. Behind the desk was a door.

"Hello," said my captor. "I'm here to process Megan Bandini. She doesn't know my name, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Of course," said the woman at the desk. She glanced at me, then down at my body. I was convinced she was trying to make me feel more naked. It worked. The pillory binding my arms to my neck felt tight. She looked down at the papers on her desk. "Looks like room 7 is free. Alexa will meet you there."

"Very good. Thank you." My captor pulled me - with force but not crudely - around the desk and through the door behind it. Behind it was a corridor; at the end was a door marked 'STABLES', but he took me through another door on the left marked 'PROCESSING'. Behind that was another corridor, down which there were a series of doors, each labelled with a number. My captor, of course, took me down to room 7.

It was a small room. There was a contraption in the middle - it looked like an iron cage with no bars. In the top were manacles attached to thick bars, at the bottom was a circular plate with manacles. My captor turned a wheel on the side, causing the top manacles and bars to lower. He pulled me over to it and unlocked the pillory. I struggled against him.

"Megan," he said. "If you don't let me put you in this without a fight, I will give you ten spanks."

How humiliating. To be treated as if I needed to be tamed. I complied. He placed my wrists in the manacles and locked me in, then turned the wheel to raise my arms as high above my head as possible. The manacles felt cold and hard. My body felt exposed.

The door opened, and I impulsively tried to cover up; of course, my arms were held above my head. As an older woman holding a clipboard walked in, my captor fastened manacles to my feet.

"Good lord, you got a pretty one this time!"

"Hello Alexa," said my captor. "Make sure you don't use--"

"Yeah, yeah, the receptionist told me not to use your name. Alright, let's get this done. Name?"

"Megan Bandini."

She wrote that down. "Age?"

"Twenty-five."

"Height?"

"Five foot four."

"Weight is..." She looked at a dial on the contraption. "A hundred and fifty-two pounds. Hair colour is brown. So long and pretty!" She ran her fingers through my hair. I felt like I was being petted. I shook my hair. "Eyes are blue." She sat the clipboard on a table and took a tape measure out of her pocket. "Measurements are..." She wrapped it around my breasts. I was an object being played with. "Thirty-seven..." My waist. "Thirty-one..." My hips. "Forty-seven!" She picked the clipboard back up, sat the tape measure down, and began writing.

Was this life now? My naked body a tool to be moved around and studied? The clinical way they went about it was what made it more humiliating. I am not an assortment of facts and figures. My body is the product of many hours of care. To be reduced to measurements like a slice of meat was to deny it's spiritual qualities.

"So, we tickle her and break for lunch?"

"What?!" I spoke for the first time. I was shocked.

"Yes," said my captor. He walked over to me, grabbed my sides, and began gently rubbing my armpits with his thumbs. It was so sudden! One swift motion and I was putty in his hands. I screamed with laughter. I shook. The manacles kept my feet from kicking upward, so I stomped my foot as if that would relieve the tension. It did not. My armpits were so sensitive. I cackled with laughter.

The worst part was how powerless I felt. I cried out for him to stop and he silently continued. He went long enough that I started to believe I had always been tickled - that I was born in this room being tickled and any images of a past life were a dream. He moved his hands down to my sides. I felt even more naked than before. Every inch of my flesh was free for him to tickle. I pounded against my restraints as best I could.

It was then that Alexa, grinning, walked over to me and picked up a foot just enough to tickle the undersides.

"Oh noooooooooo!" I cried. My whole perception was taken up by the sensation of being tickled. I fought it has hard as I could. My eyes were raw from the tears; my throat was torn up by laughing. "Please! Ahahahaha! Please stop, I beg you! Hahahaha!"

It was an agonising amount of time, but my captor finally stopped and motioned to Alexa to do the same. He dragged a chair over to me as I sniffed. He adjusted the manacles binding my wrists; they disconnected from the base, still connected by a long chain. He put the chair behind me so I could sit. My feet were still manacled to the floor.

I collapsed into the chair. My face and neck felt hot. Dropping my arms to protect my armpits felt safe. I might have been naked and locked up, but my mental armour was returning. My captor and Alexa walked out of the room.

"What did I do to deserve this?" I asked.

Without even looking back, my captor replied, "You killed an innocent person."

I felt a spike of white-hot rage as I watched him go.