The ENF Catcher Pt. 09

I was wearing a pink sundress with tiny yellow hearts sewn at the bottom end. I was also wearing long sheer stockings,

I was splayed out on a fainting couch in John Delmonte's lounge room. John was lying face-up on the ground, his eyes shut and his hands behind his head. Abigail was sitting cross-legged in a blue dress with white frills, playing with some string that she was folding and unfolding with her fingers.

"They're living in the past. Imagine the dirt and smell of the barbarian peoples," said John.

"A dirty life of grime," I said apathetically, enjoying playing with the words.

"That's life for them," said Abigail, not looking up. "That's what they get. Most people get what they want, I think, and if you want to live in filth and muck, you deserve it."

----

I was naked. And I was near tears.

My ass was in the air as I tried desperately to grab an apple with my teeth. I could hear the laughter of a crowd of barbarians - their jeers and taunts filled my ears. I had been at this for what felt like hours and managed to get maybe half a dozen smaller apples. Now I was running into the bigger ones that were harder to grab onto. I was covered in cold water that made my nipples rock hard. The fact that my hands were tied behind my back meant I nearly fell in multiple times.

I bit at the apple in front of me and it bounced off my teeth. I grunted in frustration. I tried snapping at it a few more times and it just kep slipping under my grip.

"Look at her ass shake as she goes for it!" I heard a man yell. My ears burned, as much because they saw my failure at a simple task as because of my nudity.

I bit in and finally grabbed it. As I lifted it, there was a sarcastic cheering for me. Suddenly, it fell from my lips back into the bucket. The cheers turned to laughter. I finally just gave up. I fell backwards onto my ass and sat, tears falling down my face. This was so fucking stupid! Why couldn't I manage this?! I felt even stupider as I was sobbing. I felt weak and stupid and naked. The crowd were in helpless giggles. I loathed them for their leering at my body and enjoying my failure.

"Come on, Megan," said Liltok, sneering. "You have a job to do."

"No! This is stupid! Why do I have to do this?" I felt my voice coming out whiny and was ashamed. She simply smirked as I sat there sniffling.

After some time, my captor returned. He looked down at me.

"Megan, why are you simply sitting there? Were you not asked to feed Saint Wendell?"

"It's too HARD!" I sobbed. "How is this even possible?! With my arms tied up and how cold the water is and-and-and--" I was enraged by my own stutter. "NAKED! This isn't fair! It's impossible!"

He looked down at me impassively as I cried. He walked over to the totem and grabbed my leash off the hook. He walked over to me and put it around my neck.

"Stand up."

I obeyed, still sniffling. He pulled me through the town back over to his horse. He then opened one of the bags hanging off the horse, took out a stool, and sat on it.

"Lay across my lap, Megan."

"Oh no, Sir!" I realised what this was about.

"You did not do what Liltok told you. You were warned you would get five spanks for it. Lay across my lap. I won't ask again."

"No! No!" I sobbed again. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me across his lap. "This isn't fair! This isn't fair! ARGH!" The sharp pain of his hand hit my ass. I cried. I shook my legs. I wiggled in place. But I wasn't strong enough. He was holding me down with what felt like impossible strength. "ARRGH! Nooooooo!" The pain of the spanking! It was too much! It was humiliating! "Ohhhhhh!"

"Megan. I've spanked you three times now. You have not been counting them or thanking me. You know I'll spank you an additional time for each time you don't."

"Fuck you!" I cried out through tears. "Fuck you and your fucking horse and your rope and your hand and... and... my leash and... fuck you! ARRGH!" He had waited until my spiel was done and then simply spanked me again! I continued to cry as he methodically spanked me.

And then it was like a switch turned in my brain.

There was no source behind it, no reason for it to happen. It's like my brain simply accepted this. Maybe the physical pain and psychic humiliation had simply reached the point that my pure instinct seized on the only way out. Maybe my pride finally broke.

"Eight! Thank you, Sir."

It wasn't just what I was saying. I was slumped over his legs, passively taking the spanks.

"Nine! Thank you, Sir."

I said the phrase in exactly the same methodical way he was spanking me. The raw logic of it all was overwhelming me. If I had started counting immediately instead of throwing a temper tantrum, I'd be done already.

"Ten! Thank you, Sir!"

If I'd kept working on the apples instead of giving up, I wouldn't be getting spanked at all.

"Eleven! Thank you, Sir!"

If I hadn't taunted that woman or spoke with the pendant on or tried to escape, all those other spankings wouldn't have happened either.

"Twelve! Thank you, Sir!"

If I hadn't murdered a human being, I'd still be allowed to wear clothes and not get tied up or spanked or tickled at all.

"Thirteen! Th-thank you, Sir!"

I was crying again. I couldn't believe the taste of the words on my mouth. I was actually calling him Sir. I was now actually thanking him for spanking me.