Earning Forgiveness Ch. 02byMechanicalAngel©
Morning came far too quickly, and when the buzzer went off at eight am, Emma couldn't think why she was naked and in a cage. Then everything came flooding back; the humiliation she had endured yesterday, the situation she found herself in; and she blushed a deep red. The orders William and James had given her the previous afternoon rang in her mind, and she dutifully pushed the cage door open and crawled out.
Her knees and back were throbbing from being cramped all night, and her arse still felt like it was on fire. She stretched slowly, and gently moved her neck back and forth in an attempt to ease it. She found her way to the bathroom and stepped into the shower, the hot water soothing her aching muscles. She washed her hair and found a women's razor on the side. Carefully, she removed all her body hair, paying particular attention to her pussy. She had never much bothered with it, doing only enough to look neat and presentable, and before long her arm was aching with the effort. Eventually she ran a hand over her pussy and arsehole, and felt that it was good enough.
She stepped out and dried herself off, then padded over to the spare bedroom, praying they had left her something more comfortable to wear today. She found another pair of ridiculously high-heels, red this time, and a red thong. Again, there was nothing else for her to put on. With a sigh, she slipped into the clothes and glanced at herself in the mirror. They had provided a hair-drier and brush, and she assumed she was supposed to make herself look presentable.
When she was finally satisfied that they wouldn't complain about her appearance, Emma glanced at the clock. It was nine am, so she tottered down the stairs, hoping they hadn't asked her to prepare anything too complicated for breakfast.
She quickly found the menu: toast and cereal for breakfast, fish and chips for lunch, and nothing for dinner. That gave her pause, but she didn't think much about it. She just thanked the heavens that William and James seemed to have decided to go easy on her, and set about making the toast.
At exactly half-past nine, William and James came into the kitchen. Emma had laid all the cereals out on the table, placed a jug of milk and a tray of buttered toast next to them, and set two place-settings. She didn't expect to be allowed to eat with them. When they arrived she was stood, as ordered, in the corner with her eyes cast down.
They ignored her through breakfast, chatting about other things and generally taking their time. Eventually, James stood up and took the dog-bowl out of the dishwasher. Emma heard him scraping and slopping the leftovers into it, and didn't look up.
William cuffed her hands behind her back and pushed her in the direction of the bowl. "Eat."
She knelt down and looked at the food she had been given. Bits of toast were mixed in with coco pops and muesli, swimming in milk. Had they picked the worst combination of cereals, just to get at her? She could feel them getting impatient behind her, so she lowered her face into the mush and began to eat. When she had licked out the last crumbs and drops of milk, she turned her attention to the other side of the bowl. They had slopped the left-over cold coffee into it, and when she began lapping it up, she tasted sugar. She had always insisted that coffee with sugar was undrinkable, but they both had two or three sugars in their hot drinks. She felt faintly sick, but finished it all.
When she was finished, she licked up the food and drink that had spilled, then picked up the dishes and the bowl and put them all into the dishwasher, turning it on before washing herself in the sink. Bits of muesli had already dried onto her bare chest, and she had to pick them off. Without looking at William and James, she dried herself and walked into the living room, standing in the corner and waiting, as she had been told to.
After a few minutes they joined her there, lounging back casually on the sofa. "You've learned well," William said approvingly. "The food wasn't half-bad either."
"Although it was only toast and cereal, so we're not holding our breath," James said lightly.
"The house is a mess," William told her. "Your first job today will be to clean it, top to bottom. I figure it will take you a couple of hours. The cleaning products are in the kitchen. We'll be checking, so it had better be pristine." He got up and removed the cuffs, and then both men ignored her.
Emma had been expecting something much worse, so she didn't hesitate to go into the kitchen. She took all the cleaning products out of the cupboard under the sink – they never cleaned up after themselves, and she didn't even know they had cleaning products. They must have got them in just for her. She set about wiping down the counters and cupboard doors, before moving onto the oven, which needed scrubbing. Finally she swept and mopped the floor, feeling relief that she could be certain of its cleanliness for her next meal.
She moved through the house, tidying and polishing, throwing away rubbish and emptying ash-trays. She picked up all their clothes and put them in the laundry basket, and vacuumed the carpets. She bleached the toilet and scrubbed the shower. Finally, she felt confident that it would meet with their approval, and returned to the living-room.
William and James weren't there, so she stood in her corner and waited for them to come back. "Not bad, bitch." James was grinning; she could hear it in his voice. "It's nice to know we've got a full-time maid as well as a sex-toy living in the house."
Emma blushed, but didn't say anything. She was tired and wanted to sit down, but she knew she wouldn't be allowed. Worse, the coffee and the milk were taking effect and she was starting to need to go to the toilet. They had told her she was allowed to go, but the thought of asking permission like a child felt humiliating.
Still, she couldn't ignore it much longer, and who knew what they would have her do next. "Master?" she said in a small voice.
"What is it?"
"May I go to the toilet, please, master?"
There was a moment of agonising silence, and Emma prayed they would let her. Then William said, "Of course you can." She almost smiled and began to move towards the stairs, but before she could get anywhere, James had clipped the lead onto her collar.
They were going to lead her up there, she realised. But James wasn't walking towards the stairs. He was leading her into the kitchen, towards the back door. A slow understanding crept up on Emma, and she hoped she was wrong.
James unlocked the door and led her out into the garden, William following behind. She hesitated, and William gave her a push. "Go on, then."
"I don't think she understands," said James.
"We've explained it to you over and over again," William said in a bored and mocking voice. "You're not a real person; you're nothing. You sleep in a cage like an animal, you eat like an animal, and you will piss like an animal." He pulled her thong down, exposing her newly shaved pussy to the cold air, and pushed her onto her knees. "Go and crawl over to a suitable bush and do your business," he told her.
The thong was tangled round her ankles, but Emma hadn't been given permission to remove it, and she didn't want to be punished again. She awkwardly crawled over to a bush and stared at it, wondering how on earth she was going to manage this without spraying herself. Finally, she realised she had no choice but to do it like a dog.
Flushing red, Emma lifted the leg nearest the bush and tried to piss. Nothing came. She closed her eyes and tried to relax; tried to forget that she was outside peeing up against a bush like an animal; tried to forget that William and James were standing there watching her. And relief followed, as she emptied her bladder and managed to avoid getting any urine on herself. Awkwardly, she crawled back over to her masters and pushed herself back onto her feet.
James handed her a wet-wipe and told her to clean herself up. She felt humiliated beyond belief, but she did as she was told. Once she had pulled her thong back up, they lead her back into the house.
Emma sneaked a look at the clock in the kitchen, as they passed through it into the living room, and saw that it was about midday. She had got through almost three more hours already, she told herself. Time was slowly ticking past, and she could cope with it.
The men ignored her for a few more hours, and when she finally thought she would die if she had to stand still any longer, William told her to get the lunch on. With relief she went into the kitchen and started to peel potatoes. Short though her time in the house had been, she was already used to mealtimes by now, and she got through the leftovers in her bowl quite quickly.
Far too soon, she was back in the living room again, and waiting for them to give the next order. It came immediately. "Stand in front of the sofa and look at us."
She did as she was told. They were both sat comfortably on the big sofa, feet up on the coffee table that she had polished that morning. They were drinking cans of beer and grinning at her. "We're going out this evening," William told her. "We don't want a repeat of last night's performance, ok?"
"Yes master," she replied dutifully, trying to look at them while avoiding their eyes. It was much worse when she looked into their eyes.
"Good. Tonight we'll be meeting up with some friends, and we want to be able to show off what you can do," continued William. "You will give them the same respect and obedience you show us. You'll address every man you meet as sir, and every woman as miss. Do you understand?"
"We don't want to be embarrassed by you," James said warningly. "You will be punished severely if you show us up."
"We want to be proud of you. We want to be able to show that you are the most obedient slave ever. So we're going to spend the afternoon preparing."
That sounded ominous to Emma, but she just nodded. "Yes, master."
The men smiled at each other, and William disappeared. James stared at Emma, looking faintly amused and mocking. "You didn't think I'd go through with this," he said softly. It wasn't a question so Emma said nothing, thinking silently that he was right. "But you're a cheating whore who needs to be taught a lesson, and then I might be able to trust you."
"Yes, master." So he was just teaching her a lesson, getting back at her, before he took her back. Emma could cope with that, she thought. She was just getting what she deserved, she told herself. She had brought this on herself; besides, she had gone too far to stop now. If she backed out, she would have eaten off the floor and pissed outside for nothing, and she didn't think she could handle that.
William returned carrying a cardboard box, which he put on the ground in front of Emma. "We're going to play a game," he said lightly. "Have you ever played lucky dip, bitch?"
"Excellent, then you'll understand how this works. You're going to dip your hand into that box and pull something out. Whatever you pull out will determine what we're going to do first." She waited for an order. "Go on, then."
With trepidation, Emma closed her eyes and felt around in the box. She touched something long and hard that felt like a dildo, and moved her hand away from it. She closed her hand on something soft and pulled it out. Whatever it was, it wouldn't hurt her, and surely it wouldn't be something sexual.
She opened her eyes and saw that she held a simple ball. What on earth were they going to do to her with that? James' eyes lit up, and he took the ball from her. "So you want to play fetch, do you? Come on, then."
He took her lead and led her back out into the garden. Her nipples hardened instantly in the cold, and William laughed as he cuffed her hands in front of her, removed the lead, and attached the cuffs to the ring in her collar. He pushed her down onto her knees and, without her hands to steady her, she fell onto her elbows. "When one of us throws the ball, you will crawl over to it and bring it back to us, as fast as you can." William took the ball from James and grinned at her. "OK, bitch – fetch." He hurled the ball as far away as he could manage, and Emma crawled as quickly as possible over to it, using her elbows as an extra limb. She felt, as they had no doubt intended, exactly like a dog as she shuffled along, arse high in the air and face close to the ground.
She found the ball lying in some undergrowth, and knew how she was expected to pick it up. Opening her mouth she bit into the ball and struggled to pick it up. Before she was half-way back to them she lost her grip and the ball fell onto the ground. They laughed as she wrestled with it again, and William called out, "you'll have to do better tonight, bitch." She flushed, but focused on picking up the ball and getting through the ordeal as soon as possible.
Thankfully they seemed to get bored after a short while, and led her back into the house. Standing in front of the box again, Emma felt extremely reluctant to pick anything out: if they could get such a humiliating task just from a ball, she dreaded to think what else they might have in store for her. She realised she couldn't predict what they were going to do with any particular object, so she just pulled out the first thing she touched.
She went cold when she saw what she was holding. It unmistakeably was a butt-plug, and Emma had always refused point-blank to let James put anything in her arse. They both looked delighted at the sight of it, and William stepped forward. She knew he had a thing about anal sex: he had told her one night that his favourite porn films were the ones where two men were fucking one woman in the arsehole. It was one of the reasons she hated him: he was always talking about sex in that repulsive way of his.
She had told James that night that she found William and his love of anal-sex disgusting. Judging by the glee in his expression, James had passed the message on. "Do you want me to stick this up your arse, bitch?"
She remembered what had happened last time she had said no to William. She understood now that she was supposed to just agree with them both, no matter what they said. Reluctantly, she muttered, "Yes master."
"In that case, I want you to turn around, take down your thong, spread your legs wide and bend over." She did so. "Good. Now, hold your arsehole open wide with both hands." Miserably, she pulled at her arse-cheeks and made some effort to hold them apart, presenting her arsehole to him. She could feel their eyes on her behind, and she blushed. William walked around until he was facing her, and crouched down. "Open wide," he said. He pushed the butt-plug into her mouth and instructed her to suck. "Get it nice and moist, bitch. This is the only lubrication you're going to get."
That information made her suck hard, trying desperately to get the butt-plug as wet as possible. He pulled it out of her mouth and walked back round towards the sofa. He nudged her arsehole with the butt-plug, but didn't push it in. "Now say, 'Please ream my arse with that butt plug.' And you'd better make me believe you mean it."
Emma knew she was likely to get punished if she didn't satisfy him, but she had no idea how to do as he said and sound believable. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and tried to imagine that she was asking them to let her go. "Please ream my arse with that butt plug, master," she repeated obediently.
She heard the two men laughing behind her. "Wow, you're gagging for it, aren't you?" William said, sounding delighted.
"I guess you don't hate anal as much as you claim," James said snidely. "That's no surprise, given what a filthy tramp you really are."
Emma didn't even care about the taunting. She just felt relieved that she'd been successful and wasn't going to suffer through more spanking. Without warning, William pushed the butt-plug into her, all the way up to the hilt. She moaned at the intrusion, and her body instinctively tried to push it out.
"You're going to have to control yourself," James said sternly. "That butt-plug will stay in your arsehole until we say it comes out, and if you try to get rid of it before we give you permission, we'll just replace it with a bigger one. Do you understand?"
"Yes master," Emma moaned.
"Get used to it," William said. "We're going to be increasing the size of butt-plug over time, and by the end of the month you'll be able to fit the philharmonic in there." He smiled at his own imagery, and told her to stand up and turn around.
Conscious of the warning James had given her, Emma tensed the muscles in her arsehole as she stood, and held the butt-plug in place. It felt even more uncomfortable now that she was standing up, but she tried to keep her expression neutral. She didn't want to give William the satisfaction of seeing her in pain.
"Take the next object," James ordered.
She picked out a bag of sweets and wondered what on earth they were intending to do with them. She soon found out, when James bound her hands behind her back and told her to kneel up and beg for the treats like a dog. She had to follow each sweet with her head when they moved it back and forth, and when they held one high above her head they expected her to try and jump up in an attempt to get it. Of course, jumping on her knees with her hands cuffed, she fell on her face more often than not, and every time they laughed at her and gave her no help in getting up. It was almost impossible for her to keep the butt-plug from falling out, but somehow she managed it. The biggest humiliation came when William balanced a sweet on the end of her nose and told her to keep it there until he said it was OK for her to eat it. They even expected her to whimper like a puppy if they took too long giving her the treat. When she got one, she had to thank them for it.
The next item was one of those awful fake vaginas, which James made her hold. "William's going to get his cock out and you will toss him off into the vagina. We want it to be nice and wet inside for you," he told her.
She was dreading this: the first time she had to actually touch William's penis. She could cope with him putting his fingers inside her; she could cope with him mocking her and humiliating her; but she didn't want to touch his cock. It felt too real, somehow. But she knew she had no choice, and she crawled over to him and waited. When she reached out for his cock, William smacked her hands away sharply. "What do you think you're doing, whore?"
Emma hesitated. They had told her to touch him, hadn't they? "I'm sorry master," she began falteringly. "I thought –"
"You're a filthy fucking object, and my penis is worth more on its own than the whole of you. You will show it the respect it deserves."
She bit her lip, unsure what they expected of her. "If someone allows you to touch their penis or vagina, you will thank them for it, and kiss the feet of that person to show your gratitude. Then you'll thank the penis or vagina in the same way. Do you understand?"
Emma didn't look up at James when he spoke, but she nodded. "Yes, master." She turned back to William's cock. Did they really expect her to thank him for the privilege of touching it? She took a deep breath, and looked up at William. "Thank you for letting me touch your penis, master." Sickened by her own words, she bent over and kissed each of William's shoes, and then straightened up so she was, once again, level with his cock. "Thank you, master."
Then she reached out and started to stroke it, feeling it grow hard in her hand. She fought the urge to hurt him, dreading what the punishment might be, and tried to ignore what she was doing. Before long she felt him stiffen further, and knew instinctively that he was about to come. She thrust his cock into the fake vagina and he sighed as he came into it. When he was done he withdrew carefully, not spilling a drop of semen.