Anne's Obedience

Anne’s Obedience

Anne had been told of the dangers many times. Her mother had warned her, never to walk alone in the city at night. Since being at college, she had taken care.

Her long light brown hair was tied back in a pony tail, and she wore jeans and a nicely fitting silk blouse that showed off her breasts without being too slutty. She knew that her body was an advantage that could be useful at any moment, such as when she had flirted with a ticket agent to get an upgraded seat. She was cute, too. While she was 21, she was always carded in bars because she looked 18. The light freckles helped, and girlish cute looks.

Walking the few short steps from the theater to the parking garage seemed safe enough. There were plenty of people on the street. She walked with a confident air, a light bounce in her step that made her an attractive sight. A number of men turned to gaze at her lovely shape as she walked down the sidewalk, as well as one woman. She noticed them all, without showing it, and smiled the quirky smile that was so endearing.

She entered the parking garage, a huge concrete structure 6 floors high. She had parked on 5, having arrived late, and rushed to the theater. The elevator had three others in it. Two got off at the second floor, and one at the fourth. She was alone when she stepped off the elevator on the fifth floor.

The garage was quiet. A few cars, here and there, but for the most part empty. The business crowd must have left, and this area of the garage was virtually deserted.

Anne hesitated a moment, but realized there was nothing she could do. She walked toward her car, keys in hand.

She passed a blue late model minivan, and just as she pressed the remote to unlock the doors of her car, she saw a sudden motion to her right. Something had come out from behind the minivan, quickly. Just as she turned to see what it was, the world went black, as a heavy cloth hood was forced over her head. Adrenalin surged through her body and her arms and legs suddenly flailed out in an attempt to get her balance.

As she instinctively took a deep breath to scream, she felt a sudden, severe pressure around her neck. Something large and heavy, like a rope or leather strap was being cinched around her neck... cutting off her air and any chance of making a noise. Panic ran through her like a hot fire as she felt the garrote tightened and then pulled backward so that she fell.

Anne's fingers clawed her necked, mouth open, tongue protruding involuntarily as the pressure in her throat and head built up. As she was dragged on the concrete floor, the pressure built up inside her head until she thought it would explode. Her chest burned with the need to breathe. Unseeing eyes bugged out of her head and a different kind of blackness descended on her as she felt her weak body being pulled up and in to the back of a car.

The blackness became complete as Anne lost consciousness at the same time as she lost bladder control.

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The minivan hit a rough spot in the road, and the jolt brought Anne around, slowly and painfully.

Her throat hurt, and she seemed to be paralyzed, unable to move. She couldn't remember at first what had happened, and wondered if she was unconscious or sick. Then the memory of the parking garage and the abduction came washing back to her, and the thrill of panic energized her body.

She could see nothing, but she quickly realized it was because of a hood over her head, not because it was dark. A covering of course, thick cloth like burlap covered her face and head, making it hard to breath. It was tied tightly around her neck, preventing her from removing it, though not restricting the blood flow.

Her arms and legs were both numb and in pain. She couldn't move them. She wondered if she had been beaten and injured, but quickly realized as she attempted to move that she was bound. Her wrists were handcuffed together behind her back, ankles cuffed together as well. Her entire body was bent back on itself because her wrist and ankle restraints were also tied together, creating waves of cramping across her back and shoulders. Her struggles increased the pain, as she strained against the bonds.

As she quickly came to, she took in deep rasping gasps of air, struggling against the cloth surrounding her head, trying to get some air. Once she had lungs that were filled she automatically began to scream, opening her mouth wide to signal her distress to anyone that might hear. The scream was pitiful, just a rasping croak more than anything. Something had happened to her throat, it hurt terribly and she was unable to make much noise at all. Nevertheless her panic compelled her to continue sucking air in as best she could, and releasing it in the throaty, croaking scream that was all she could muster.

Her legs jerked at the restraints, pulling on the wrist cuffs. The hard metal began to dig in to her wrists, cramping setting in, panic overwhelming her. She wasn't thinking right, she tried to calm herself and reason but all she could do was jerk and try to get free and breathe. Suddenly, she heard a voice saying "shut up, you are annoying me."

With a splash, her hood was suddenly soaked in water. One of the men had dumped water over her head. Perhaps it was to help her calm herself and relieve her panic, that’s what you do with someone that is panicking, right? Slap them, splash them with water? That didn't make sense.

The water permeated the hood and she suddenly realized why she had been soaked with water. She could no longer breathe through the cloth. Whatever air she had been getting through the fibers was no longer coming through. The wet cloth clung to her face and all her body and mind now focused on trying to get just a little air. The thin layer of water held in the cloth wrapped around her head was enough to drown her. Short wheezing gasps came, but no screaming as there was not enough air to scream. Struggling was no longer an option, there simply was no oxygen in her body. Arms and limbs screamed out for oxygen, and her sharp short breaths came more rapidly.

Dizziness swept over her, the result of insufficient oxygen and rebreathing her own breath. She shook her head, an instinctive reaction, as she tried to deal with the spotty blackness that was overcoming her. She began to relax a little, floating from the lack of oxygen.

The minivan continued to drive over a rough road, though Anne was almost completely unaware. An occasional bump or dip reminded her she was still moving. She no longer struggled, except to simply breath. Her mouth wide open, she moderated her intake, pulling a little air through the cloth, just enough to keep her conscious.

The hood had partially dried out and she was breathing a little more normally when the van finally stopped. She was no longer struggling, or making any noise when the door at the side of the van opened and rough hands dragged her forward.

Anne was rolled on to her stomach, an action that disoriented her and almost made her vomit. Tears began streaming down her face, though no one could see them. She felt a heavy pole run over her head, threading through her arms and leg bindings and then lifting her up. She was hanging by her arms and legs from the pole, bent in an inverted circle which was immediately painful to her back and shoulders. Cramps spread suddenly, and she grunted as she attempted to straighten out and relieve pressure.

The pole was lifted and then began moving as the two men carried her between then. Her body swayed, handing inverted from the heavy rod, and her head jerked up and down as she wavered between unconsciousness and the driving pain in her back. The only noise coming from her hood was rapid gasps and light whimpers.

She was carried in to a building, then down stairs, sliding back and forth on the pole and even whacking her head hard once against a wall or post of some sort, she couldn't tell. The shooting pain in her head made her see flashes of stabbing light, and for a moment she could think of nothing else. Then, as they reached the bottom of the stairs, she was dumped on the floor roughly, the impact forcing air from her in a loud "oomph".

The floor was hard and cold, concrete of some kind. But it was such a welcome support from the horrible inverted backward stretching of the pole, she simply lay and enjoyed the comfort of not moving. Her breasts and hips pressed against the floor, as well as her head, which lay sideways in its hood. The cloth was dry now, allowing her to breathe, though the air in the hood was stale and stank of vomit.

Where did the smell come from, she thought. She may have felt sick, but the smell of vomit in the hood was so clear, unmistakable. Then it came to her. The hood smelled of vomit, but not hers. She was not the first woman to wear this hood. At least one other poor girl had been captured and imprisoned in this darkness, and had responded by spewing her stomach contents out, filling the hood.

Anne's breathing was still labored, her hands felt like two numb clumps of rock on the end of pained arms, her legs were numb, lower back ached, and the shooting pain in her head still threatened her consciousness. Anne became more and more aware of her surroundings as she rested on the floor. The place was cold, there was the hard concrete floor, and sounds of shuffling and equipment being moved around her. The smell of vomit and wet canvas masked all other smells.

In between the sounds of metal equipment being moved and the occasional grunt of one of the men, she heard something else. Lying calmly, she listened carefully. There it was again... distant... or perhaps simply muffled. What was it? Machinery? Metal scraping against metal? It was too random to be anything mechanical.

Suddenly, Anne realized what it was. The sound of a girl, crying out in despair and pain, far away but still audible. With a sudden rush of fear and hopelessness, the vomit smell of the hood overwhelmed her. Bile rose in her throat and spit out of her mouth as she added her own vomit to that of previous occupants of the hood. Her stomach continued to convulse, pumping more and more vile liquid in to the hood, covering her face, entering her nostrils, squishing around to her ears.

Death was an option to Anne, she was beginning to accept that she would die here, now, choking and suffocating on her own vomit. Her attempts to breath in drew slime in to her lungs, which caused a coughing mix of vomit to be expelled once again.

Just as she thought she was gone and life was slipping away, a sharp jerk on the strap around her neck was followed by the hood being jerked off her head. With a small splash her vomit was emptied on the the floor surrounding her head. Cold air surrounded her face, bringing her back to full consciousness, immediately and completely. She coughed, expelled puke from her lungs and began breathing fresh air deeply and hungrily.

Life became an option to Anne, once again. Her breathing began to stabilize, and as the bonds around her ankles were removed, she felt a certain sense of exhilaration from the simple ability to straighten her legs. Such was her distress that she did not even think of escape at this time. The ability to breath unhindered and to lay in a normal position was a gift to her better than anything she had ever received, and she simply lay and experienced it.

Her simple delight was not to last long. A bar was strapped to each of her ankles by the two men, spreading her legs apart about two feet. Then, with a slight rasping noise, a chain was slowly cranked over a pulley, lifting her legs in to the air. Anne rolled over on to her back as her legs were pulled up toward the ceiling, the dim light of a concrete cell surrounding her. Observing her bare feet ascending toward the ceiling as the chain pulled the spreader bar up, she felt her back dragging, hips and waist moving up to follow her legs. Finally, her head dragged and then left the concrete floor and she was suspended upside down, hands cuffed behind her back, legs spread above her, vomit covered hair brushing the floor below her.

Shock after shock surrounding her abduction had left Anne no time to think or to orient herself. Hanging upside down was another torture that assaulted her sanity. She could breathe now, though it was harder to do so upside down than it was on the floor. The blood rushed to her head, making it feel as if it would explode. She wanted to scream, but she was still struggling to simply keep breathing and not bite her tongue.

Large metal shears were introduced. The black clad legs of her captors walked around her as her clothes were methodically cut from her body. First her jeans, which were cut with some difficulty, but eventually, came off. Then panties, which seemed to almost drop off, they were sliced so quickly. Her blouse was literally ripped off her torso. Quick snips removed her bra, and she was naked.

Hands began to feel her body, obviously appreciating the taught stretch of her naked skin. Every inch of her body was explored, and finally the area between her legs was fingered and explored and she was penetrated. The hands were gentle, as if caressing a work of art or some fine animal specimen.

Her situation began to sink in. She had been kidnapped, almost killed during the abduction, then methodically hung upside down and stripped. It was clear her captors were practiced at their craft, and that she was not the first. At least one girl like her was still here, somewhere in this basement dungeon, from the sounds she had heard.

Anne was in deep shit.

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Being upside down is not a pleasant experience. Blood pooling in your head makes you feel like it will explode, your eyes bug out, it is harder to breathe; your bowels and stomach start to move in the wrong direction. Hang there long enough and you lose consciousness, and can die from the strain on your heart. It sucks. It sucked for Anne, as she began to feel each one of these effects on her body. Pressure hurt in all the wrong places, joints were being pulled apart, breathing was labored, and her breasts hung the wrong way.

For the first time since the ordeal began, Anne felt embarrassed of her exposure. She became more and more aware of her nakedness and exposure. Hung like this, every bit of her naked body was visible to the men working around her and no amount of struggling would allow her any covering or privacy.

Suddenly, a high powered water spray hit her back. It was scalding hot, and made her scream, in spite of her inverted state. The water was sprayed across her back, and then up and down her legs. Her body began to struggle and wriggle involuntarily, reacting to the pain of the hot water. She tried not to wiggle, as straining and struggling hurt her legs and jerked her head painfully back and forth, but it was impossible. The scalding water spread across her ass and lower back, making her skin feel as if it was in the process of peeling off.

The water sprayed across her pussy, between her spread legs, and then burned the inside of her legs as the stream continued higher. The hot water ran down her legs, over her open pussy, some of it burning the inside of her vagina. Her screams were continuous, rasping croaks that stopped only long enough to suck in air.

The water suddenly turned cold, ice cold. The shock almost sent her in to black unconsciousness. Her front was sprayed, her pussy again and stomach and breasts. The water was draining down directly in to her face again, and in to her inverted nose. Screaming became a problem as she began choking and coughing on the water.

Scalding hot water once again spread across her body, and then alternated back to freezing cold. Back and forth, one temperature extreme to another. Anne felt as if she was on fire, her flesh crackling and being brushed away exposing new, raw flesh to be burned by the next spray. The pain was so incredible she began to lose her mind, and started babbling in between her choking screams.

Then all at once it was over. The last of the water drained off her body and down to the concrete floor. Her entire body screamed out in pain, inside from joints being pulled from her inverted suspension, inside her skin from the alternating hot and cold water. The remaining water on the floor went down a small drain in the center of the room.

Anne had begun to beg for mercy in her damaged voice. She knew the two men were there, saw their legs as they walked around her and prepared the room in some way. One of the men began lowering her slowly, and her head touched the floor, then her shoulders, back, and finally legs. Blood began flowing in the right direction and the sense of relief was overwhelming, once again.

The two men lifted her, and then placed her on a metal bed frame. There was no mattress, simply the metal frame and a metal mesh which was designed to support a mattress if there had been one. The thin metal strips dug in to her back and ass, irritating her already sensitive flesh, as the men stretched her arms and legs apart. Wrists were secured to two metal bed posts, and then her ankles. She was stretched taught on the hard metal bed frame, arms and legs spread wide, looking at the faces of the two men dressed in black as they leered down at her.

As uncomfortable as the bed frame was, it was still the most comfortable she had been since the ordeal had begun. She was able to lie in a proper position and breathe normally. No undue strain was being placed on any part of her body. As a result she was able to pay attention to some aspects of her surroundings.

She was in a concrete cell, about 10 feet by 10 feet. The cell was bare except for a single light bulb in the ceiling, the drain on the floor, and a variety of oddly placed metal hooks, rings, bolts and a pulley or two fastened to the ceiling or walls. And of course, the bed she lay on, and the two men, who had now brought a rather strange, incongruous piece of equipment in to the room.

It looked so strange because it was out of place. She had seen one before. It was a hospital IV rack, the kind they used to hold solutions for slow injections in to patients. It had a box with controls on it which she recognized could be used to regulate the flow of some liquid.

Anne began babbling once again, asking for mercy, begging to be released, promising anything if they would just not hurt her. The men ignored her.

A large bag, filled with a light brown liquid was produced and hung from the rack. The tube from it was placed in the regulator, and then out to Anne. While one of the men held Anne's head firmly, the other took the tube and shoved it up her nose. Struggling really did her no good, but she tried anyway. The result was a rather painful insertion, her sinuses getting jabbed by the tube more than once.

Then one of the men said "Swallow." She did, and the tube went down her throat and in to her stomach.

The machine turned on, and began to slowly measure and deliver the liquid in to Anne's stomach.

"You are receiving a direct stomach feed of a nutrient liquid. It will meet all your needs for water and food. Enjoy dinner. And breakfast. And.... whatever. "

With a laugh the dark man turned and left the room, followed by the other man.

The light went off and Anne was plunged into complete darkness. All she could hear was the sound of her breathing and the occasional sound of the machine pushing a little more liquid in to her stomach.

It seemed like forever since Anne had been walking in the parking garage downtown. For all she knew, it had been just a few hours, or it could have been a day or more. Her body felt ravaged, bent, broken, violated, torn, and simply damaged. She lay quietly for a while, resting after the horrible ordeal.

In the quiet and peacefulness of the cell, Anne fell asleep.

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Anne woke with a start. Her body ached horribly, and she tried to move but could not. She was still stretched tightly, bound by wrists and ankles to the bed. The room was still pitch black, and completely silent except for the sound of the machine.

How long had she been asleep? The ordeal and torture she had endured had exhausted her, and she must have slept some time. Her bladder was full and she needed to pee badly. The tube in her nose was uncomfortable, and her throat was raw from abuse.

She tried to call out, but between the damage to her throat from before, and the tube, she could only muster a weak croak. There was no response. She tried several more times, to no avail.

Her bladder hurt. She had to go. What was she supposed to do here? They had to know that she would have very basic bodily function needs. Then she remembered the smooth concrete floor, sloping to the drain in the center. She knew.

The cell was a cage, and she was to urinate and defecate in it. She was an animal, perhaps even a sub-animal.

The pain in her bladder grew to the point that tears rolled down her cheeks, and she suddenly let it go. Urine sprayed from between her legs, out over the bed frame, over the inside of her legs and over the floor. When she was done, she cried, hard, sobbing at what she had become.

She tried to remember things from her life. Her family. Her boyfriend. School. Work. The images danced in front of her eyes, and she began to imagine them, looking at her shame, seeing how she had just urinated on herself.

It seemed like hours passed, though Anne had no way of telling the time. It was more like an eternity, broken only by the repetitive hummmm and click noise of the tube feed. She counted the number of cycles the tube feed made a minute by counting heartbeats. Heartbeats began filling her world, a clear noise, something she could almost see. The blackness around her began to be filled with strange shapes, lights that moved and hovered over her.

Then came the need to defecate. She was stretched out, legs pulled tight, which made it significantly harder to do. She had to push hard, but she finally got it out. It plopped on the floor, and immediately smelled. The first new smell she experienced in this hell was her own bowels. She urinated again.

The total darkness began to feel solid, as if she would be able to touch it with her hands, were they free of their restraints. The air felt black, tasted dark on her tongue. Her boyfriend came in to the room, and chastised her for soiling herself, which made her cry. He eventually faded, and her psychology instructor was there... he held her hand, but too tightly so that it hurt. She tried to talk to him but he ignored her and eventually left... she realized she was hallucinating and wondered why. Was there something in the tube feed? She concluded it was the sensory deprivation.

"Hummm.... click". "Hummmm.... click". The tube feed continued... she hallucinated. She urinated again. She defecated again. "Hummmm... click." The tube feed became her friend. Conversations were difficult, but she was getting better at it. If only she could move her hands....

And then suddenly, the routine "Hummm... click" stopped. It came so suddenly and unexpectedly that she actually screamed. The silence of the room assaulted her as if she had been hit over the head with a bat. Her friend had died. She was out of food. She began sobbing hysterically...

Hallucinations became more frequent and wilder now. She began to believe she had been buried alive, or that she was in the morgue. She screamed out that it was a mistake, that she was still alive! Nothing...

She no longer could tell the difference between her waking and sleeping dreams. Thirst overcame her, hunger cramped her stomach. Defecation continued, which seemed the ultimate insult and violation as she was no longer getting food.

As Anne lay quietly watching her boyfriend and father slowly merge and separate like golden ghosts above her, the world suddenly exploded. Light, so bright that her eyes closed tightly and her head turned away in pain, flooded the room. It was an atomic explosion, it had to be, nothing could be that bright, she thought.

It was only the light bulb in her cell. She had been days without light, and was blinded by the sudden illumination. She squinted, blinked, trying to orient herself.

Two men came in to the cell and checked her tube feed. They rolled the rack with its empty feed bag away, and then removed the tube from her nose. They were both tall men dressed nicely in casual clothes, slacks and decent shirts.

Anne was so glad to see something, anything, to hear something, that she opened her eyes and look at the men. They seemed like angels, normal men not like the dark torturers from before. She had been so deprived of anything at all for so long, she was eager to see these men even though she did not understand their intentions or what would happen next.

And so, when one of the men leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips, she kissed back. The sensation of that kiss was one of the most beautiful things in her entire life. It was loving, caring, sensual and kind.

"I am Doctor Flotsom," he said in a low kind voice. "I am sorry you have been mistreated, but I am doing my best to help you. Here, let me undo these restraints."

The two men undid the shackles on Anne's wrists and ankles. Pain immediately shot through her body as she tried to move. Her body had been stretched in one position for so long that it was hard to move. The Doctor and his assistant began rubbing her arms and legs, getting the blood flowing. In a few minutes she attempted to speak, and in her croaking voice began to ask where she was.

Placing his finger on her lips, the Doctor indicated she should not speak. "Only speak when asked a direct question, dear. This is your new home, and I am here to help you adapt to it the best you can. I will do my best to make this as painless and even pleasurable as possible, but you must let me help you. If you do not, I will not be able to stop the enforcers from doing their job."

Anne was shaking in the Doctor's arms, and she became suddenly aware of her nakedness. She attempted to cover herself. Sensing her embarrassment, the Doctor gently spread her arms and legs, and said "There is no reason for you to cover yourself here. In fact, it will be much easier for you if you get used to being exposed at all times. For example, I see you have made quite a mess of yourself and this cell. We need to get you cleaned up. Stand up."

It was true, the stench from Anne's urine and feces which lay on the floor beneath her bed frame was strong. Anne herself needed to bathe, and smelled of various body odors. She stood, and the Doctor took Anne's hands and raised them above her, fastening them in restraints to a hook hanging from the ceiling. The other man came in with the spray hose, and Anne reacted, remembering the scalding pain from her last cleaning.

The spray was milder this time, not causing her significant pain. Anne stood with arms stretched above her head as the two men carefully sprayed her off, cleaning all aspects of her body. Soap and water was produced, and the Doctor's assistant spent time lathering her body, soaping her breasts, arms, stomach, ass, between her legs and on down to her feet. She was rinsed, the soap carried down the drain in the center of the room by the water. Her hair was shampooed and rinsed as well. Then the spray was turned on her cell, washing the floor and rinsing away the smelly mess beneath her metal bed.

When all was complete, the men left her, arms pulled taught above her head. It wasn't painful, and she took the opportunity to stretch and move her atrophied limbs in various ways. She tested her voice, and learned that while she could talk, some damage to her vocal chords remained and her voice was still soft and raspy.

After about an hour, the Doctor returned. He had a few items with him, including a leather harness of some sort. He worked sorting the straps out for a moment, and then began fitting it on her body. One strap went around her waist, and was cinched tight and locked. A large dildo was inserted up her vagina, making her shudder with the contradictory feelings of pleasure and pain.

Another strap went between her legs, pressing hard between her labia lips and pushing the dildo inside her. The strap also ran inside her ass crack like a parody of a G string. A leather strap went around her neck, tight enough to feel restricted and encourage her chin to be raised, but allowing breathing. A final assembly went around her breasts, lifting them slightly while leaving them completely exposed.

As the final straps were tightened, Anne felt the horror of what was happening to her wash over her in a wave. She was having trouble remembering her life before this place. It was there, in her memory, and she clung to it, clung to the hope that someone would rescue her.

The Doctor produced a bottle. It looked like a large baby bottle. It was filled with more of the same light brown liquid she had been tube fed. He held it up to her mouth. A wave of hunger and thirst struck her and she started suckling on it. It tasted terrible, but it was liquid, and rich, and she needed it desperately. She drank and drank, satisfying herself by sucking on the baby bottle and drinking the nourishing liquid. When it was empty, she felt a twinge of fear that she needed more, but realized her stomach was full to bloating.

Petting her hair like a puppy, the Doctor murmured assurances and approval.

"Are you feeling better? I hope so. Let's finish our exam of you."

The Doctor did a thorough exam of Anne, checking her eyes, ears, mouth and throat, blood pressure, heart rate, listening to lungs and checking reflexes. When finished, he announced that she was in good shape, and would do well. He then reached down and adjusted the dildo which penetrated her deeply, and then left the room silently.

Anne hung from the ceiling, waiting for something to happen. She peed once again, thinking about how she had lost most of her pride. It felt normal to simply pee in this place. Her back and shoulders began to ache, and her legs were tired from standing.

The dildo distracted her somewhat. She noticed after a bit that it was vibrating very slightly. She wiggled her hips, trying to find a more comfortable position, and suddenly felt a wave of pleasure sweep across her. The dildo felt good inside, and was slowly but surely stimulating her. The idea of actually having an orgasm while standing in her cell seemed deeply embarrassing to Anne, and she did her best to suppress her feelings. Then she noticed the slight vibration of the dildo radiating through the strap that held it in, and thus to her clit. No wonder she was feeling the pleasure, her clit was being subtly but definitely stimulated by the vibration in the strap.

Anne wiggled her hips again, trying to move the strap or the dildo to reduce the growing feelings of pleasure. She desperately did not want to climax here, where others undoubtedly knew what was happening, and perhaps were watching. But the wiggling simply served to push the dildo deeper in to her and slide the leather strap across her clit. Her hips were moving slightly, in an involuntary thrusting motion, and suddenly Anne gasped and bit her lip as an orgasm swept over her body. The flush on her chest and neck was obvious to anyone watching, and her breathing came in short gasps until the orgasm began to recede.

The flush of orgasm was replaced by the blush of humiliation. By orgasming here, in captivity, she felt as if she had lost a major battle and succumbed to her captors. She was their plaything; she was beginning to accept it. Her head hung down from between her raised arms.

-----

The cycle of very slow pleasure building through the vibration of the dildo and eventual orgasm repeated several times. Each time, Anne was humiliated at her loss of control. Each time, she swore not to allow it again. Each time, she succumbed with a mixed feeling of humiliation and excited pleasure. Each time, her moans and cries were a little louder, a little less inhibited.

After what seemed like hours, the Doctor returned and took her down from the ceiling. Anne sensed he knew exactly what had been happening, and turned her head in embarrassment. The Doctor took her chin and made her face him. "It's ok, dear... this is part of your training. You must become accustomed to pleasure as well as pain. This is really a pretty good place once you understand it. You will come to love it, and the faster you let go of yourself and become the slave you are destined to be, the faster you will become happy."

Anne looked at him. Slavery... her, a slave. It slowly sunk in what the Doctor was saying. She began to struggle suddenly, tried to bolt for the door, hysterical. There was nothing for it but to run, and she tried. She had almost lost herself, but still had a shred of dignity left and would fight, fight for freedom.

Her chains prevented her from exiting the room, and she jerked to a stop. As she fell on the floor, the two dark men, the enforcers, came in to the room. The Doctor left the room, pausing just long enough to say "I am very sorry but I must go for now. I hoped you would adapt a little faster. It is out of my hands now, and up to the enforcers. I will be back later, soon. How soon depends on you. I hope you do OK. Remember that I am the person that is trying to help you."

The two dark men, the "enforcers" returned to the room. A chill of fear ran through Anne when she realized who they were. They unfastened her wrists from the hook and attached a leash to her collar. She was led from the room and saw the concrete corridor for the first time. It was dimly lit, and extended down to her left a ways to stairs which rose to blackness. Several doors lined the corridor. She was led by her leash to a door about halfway down the hall, which was opened and gave way to a larger room with a variety of items of equipment in it. In the center of the room was a large dentist's chair, equipped with very serious looking restraints as well as leg stirrups.

She immediately backed away and began to struggle, but the two men picked her up, deposited her in the chair and strapped her down efficiently. She struggled, but it was clear the chair was designed for bondage. She wasn't going anyplace. Besides, it was probably the most comfortable she had been in a long time.

The enforcers worked for a moment on the side of the room.

When they returned, they took some thin, soft leather straps that were soaking wet, and stretched them across her chest, fastening them tightly under the chair. Strap after strap went on, down the chest and across her stomach. They were tight, but not painfully so. When the straps were all on, one of the enforcers forced a dental gag in her mouth, spreading it wide. Her jaw distended and sudden pain streaked the side of her head.

"You need a filling," said one of the men. "The wet leather straps around you are drying at this very moment. As they dry, they also shrink and will place increasing pressure on your rib cage and diaphragm. It takes about 20 minutes for them to dry completely, after which you won't really be breathing any more and will be lucky if you don't have a couple of cracked ribs. When we are done with the filling, the straps come off. Cooperate with us, it will all go faster and we will get through this quickly. Fight us, and it goes slower."

Anne looked at them with fear in her eyes. She believed them. She could feel the tightening process already beginning. In order to get through this quickly, she was going to have to let them drill all they wanted, regardless of the pain. As the whine of the drill began she closed her eyes tightly.

At first, it didn't hurt at all. There was the familiar rasping of the drill on her teeth, will small bits of smoke from the friction of the drill. Suddenly, a searing lightning bolt of pain shot through her tooth as the drill hit a nerve. She scream and jerked her head uncontrollably. The drill stopped and she began sobbing, the pain in her mouth subsiding.

The false dentist waited, patiently. Anne had turned her open mouth away from the drill, but her crying reminded her of the increasing pain in her chest as the straps dried and tightened. Her breath was coming in shorter and shallower gasps, and finally she turned her head, holding her wide open mouth still for the drill once again.

The pain was horrible, and she screamed and cried as best she could. But she held her mouth available for the drill as its pain shot through her jaw and flooded her chest. Her rasping screams became smaller and shorter as the straps tightened until she was hardly breathing.

Finally, the drilling stopped. Her eyes shot to her torturers, thinking that the straps would be released. The man laughed momentarily... "No... this is a filling, not just a drilling. We need to fill your cavity, you know."

Anne's tears streamed down her cheeks, but without sound, as the straps had all be removed her ability to breath. Her chest struggled against the straps, her stomach pushed and heaved, pain shooting through her chest as her ribs were compressed. She knew she would faint soon, if not from lack of air, then from the pain of crushed ribs as they cracked from the pressure.

The man filled the cavity, quickly and expertly. Just as the room was beginning to go black the straps were released and Anne gulped air in to her lungs. The burning sensation was quickly relieved, and she realized no ribs were cracked, just bruises.

Obedience and cooperation had paid off. She had accepted the pain, and had survived. This time.

------

Anne's training continued, with small but sure steps. She was degraded and humilitated continually, to the point where she lost all identity of self. Her life became one of acceptance and survival. Obedience was rewarded; failure to please resulted in commitment to complete isolation. She craved the attention of anyone, even the enforcers... though the Doctor was the one that provided the rewards, and she craved his approval more than anything.

One day, she was taken to the Doctor's private room, upstairs. A great treat, as there was actual sunlight, though the windows were slits that prevented any escape. She was being trained to accept any sexual advance at the Doctor's whim, including prolonged penetrations, oversized penetrations and flexible positions. She was working on spreading her legs as wide as possible, an exercise that was very painful, though the Doctor was providing plenty of encouragement. Her goal was to reach 180 degree spread.

She was spread across two chairs, a foot on each. Her arms were tied behind her back securely, bound at the wrist and elbow. Her hair was tied back in a pony tail, and her face was looking at the Doctor, as he prefered. He coached her, telling her to move forward, spreading further, helping her reach her goal. Her face was a mask of pain, as the cramping and stretching in her groin felt like two ice pics digging down her legs toward her pussy.

Straining, she was almost in compliance with the Doctor's orders. But... at the last moment, her muscles gave out, one leg bent and the chair fell over. She fell forward on the Doctor, who broke her fall. He left out a large "oopphh" as her head struck his stomach. As she rolled off of him on to the floor, she curled up in a ball, crying, the pain in her groin expanding. She was sure she had pulled something, the pain was not going away, and she writhed on the floor.

The Doctor helped her to her feet, and looked at her with a sad expression. "I am very sorry you touched me in that way. You know the rules, touching without permission is not allowed. Its true, you fell, but you should have taken the pain and injury rather than breaking the rules."

Panic welled up inside Anne as the enforcers came in to the room and took her by each of her bound arms. The pain in her groin continued, and she limped down the stairs, down the dimly lit hall and in to her cell. The choked, muffled screams of another prisoner wafted down the hall and were cut off as her cell door closed.

A new apparatus occupied the center of the room. Made of heavy wood, it reminded her of a gallows, tall, with an overhanging beam. A rope with a noose hung from the beam. Metal eyelets were screwed in to the upright post. But the most unusual thing about it was a short, heavy beam that protruded from the upright at 4 feet above the floor. This protrusion was about 3 inches wide, rough hewn, and had an elongated wooden spike sticking up, perhaps 7 or 8 inches long and 3 inches wide at the bottom.

A platform, like a bench, was placed below this protrusion.

As Anne was led by the enforcers and lifted on to the bench, she suddenly realized what was happening. The protrusion was a horrible parody of a seat. She was going to be placed, sitting, on this wooden beam, legs hanging down on either side. The blunt spike was to be inserted inside her as she sat on this thin, painful saddle. It was a painful twist on the ancient traditional pony torture.

The enforcers lifted her up, forced her leg over the protruding beam, and lowered her on to the spike. It had been lubed, thank god, but that was a small favor for as it sunk deeper and deeper in her, its widening base spread her lips farther and father apart until she began to whimper with the pain. Compounding this pain, the tip of the horrible wooden dildo pressed up against her cervix, pushing it up as the spike sunk deeper. Her feet finally rested on the bench below, and she pressed up with her toes as much as possible to relieve the pressure. Her whimpers were continual now, bordering on cries.

Her groin was already in pain from the pulled muscle, and the cruel impalement was simply making it worse. Her feet were extended down as much as possible, lifting herself an inch or two. The hard spike was unforgiving in its rigid penetration.

Her bound wrists were pulled roughly behind her and fastened to one of the metal eyelets in the upright post behind her. The raising of her bound arms forced her body forward, which in turn made the hard dildo scrape and almost puncture her vagina wall. She struggled to keep the bottom part of her body straight, while leaning forward some to relieve pressure on her arms. The pain from this position was extending from the muscle cramps in her legs as they tried to support and raise her body, to the groin and inside where the spike was digging in to her, and her back and shoulder muscles being pulled in the strappado.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as Anne cried pitifully from the pain wracking her body. Crying too hard resulted in motion which caused even more pain, so she concentrated on remaining motionless as much as possible. Even so, the huge dildo pressed painfully inside her, and the beam on which she sat dug more and more in to her ass and legs.

One of the enforcers kicked the bench out from under her legs, and she settled suddenly and very painfully down on the wooden beam driving the dildo in to her, through the cervix. She screamed in agony and her legs began flailing to find some support or stable surface. The flailing simply caused more problems, jabbing and jerking the dildo point inside of her, and pulling her extended arms. She tried hard to keep her legs hanging straight down and motionless, but it was nearly impossible, as she was terrified of losing her balance and falling to one side. If she were to fall to the side, the dildo inside her would tear a hole inside her and rip her uterus, and possibly her bowels. She didn't know if she would survive that damage. Staying straight and stable on this horrible seat was her only option.

One of the enforcers slipped the noose around her neck, and then looked directly in to her tear streaked face.

"We will lift you off the dildo, all you have to do is ask. When you are ready."

She knew what they meant. That was the noose's job. To be lifted off the dildo meant to be strangled by the noose, hung, kicking and struggling at the end of the rope.

She sat for a while, enduring the agony of the dildo post. But she knew in her heart that she would eventually have to ask to be removed. It might was well be sooner than later.

"Please sir. Lift me off the dildo," she squeezed out between sobs.

The noose slowly tightened around her neck as the rope was pulled up. It began cutting deep in to the flesh, cutting blood flow and making it hard to breath. Tighter, and tighter it got, slowly but surely as the enforcers played with the rope. There was no quick relief for her; she began begging for the rope to tighten, for the enforcers to pull harder.

At last the rope tightened around her neck so tightly she could no longer breathe, and she felt the pull as it began lifting her. Her lungs began burning, her chest heaving in an attempt to draw breath as her body slowly began slipping up and off the dildo. Her arms also lowered behind her, relieving the pain in her back.

The relief of being lifted from the torturous dildo pole was replaced with the agony of suffocation. The pressure in her head was building. She could actually feel her eyes bulging out, and began to lose her eyesight to a sheet of red which seemed to descend on the room. She felt her legs uselessly struggle, her bowels loosen and empty, and her bladder releasing. Her body screamed for air, but the cruel rope tightened even further, her head uselessly hung over its side at an odd angle. Her tongue protruded, and she felt the strength to struggle drain away from her. Her last thought before losing consciousness was that she wished she had endured on the dildo post longer.

The Doctor came in, and looked at Anne's still form lying on the concrete floor. She was breathing, in small slow rasping breaths. It would take a while to recover from this ordeal, but it had been a necessary part of her training. He leaned down, and stroked her naked body lovingly.

------

Several weeks later, Anne lay in her cell. Still on the metal bed frame, but no longer tied spread eagled to its four corners. A simple chain secured her collar to a ring in the wall. The light was on in the room, and there was some bread on a plate nearby. She was still naked, but she was washed, groomed, and her nakedness no longer appeared to bother her. Her long hair was brushed, her body fit and healthy. She looked positively sexy and seductive sitting on the edge of the bed.

Anne had come so far, in so little time. She had worked hard, accepting the pain, reveling in the pleasure, learning what cooperation meant. And most off all, learning obedience. For obedience led to survival, rewards, and pleasure. Anne had had more orgasms in the last week than in her entire life before coming to her new world.

The Doctor came in to her cell and she looked up eagerly. She knew that with the Doctor came new lessons, lessons that might result in punishment. But learning those lessons was also the way to increasing pleasure and happiness. Ultimately, when the Doctor was happy, she was happy, and her world was good.

"I think you have almost learned to control your choke reflex, dear. I think I would like to progress to the next stage with you. No ring gag today." The Doctor was unzipping his pants and taking out his rather large member. A thrill ran through Anne's body, for she knew what a step forward this was. She was going to please the Doctor, completely, and achieve a new skill that would result in more pleasures and rewards for her.

She positioned herself sitting on the floor, obediently taking "the position", legs bent under her, sitting with knees spread wide and hands behind her back. The Doctor came to her. For the first time, she opened her mouth without a dental gag and took the Doctor in to her. He slid in, past lips and tongue, pushing slowly but surely in to her throat.

It wasn't that Anne didn't gag when he was fully inserted, extended down her throat almost to her vocal chords. Instead, she was able to control her gag reflex, direct it to squeeze and stimulate the Doctor Feeling him inside her like that had become a very pleasurable feeling to her. She loved feeling each part of him, the ridges, his head, and the muscles in him contracting and moving with her. Giving him pleasure was her life now.

When he was fully inserted like this, she could not breathe. Any attempt to breath resulted in choking, coughing and a very unpleasant result. Not only would the Doctor become unhappy, the consequences were dire. She recalled one of the first times she had failed to take the Doctor in and pleasure him properly.

So many teaching tools at this place were so simple, and yet so effective. Such was the strappado. The enforcers had come in to the room, and tied her hands behind her back. Her tied hands were placed on the hook which was continually suspended from the ceiling of her cell, and the hook was slowly raised behind her, lifting her wrists in to the air. As her arms were lifted, she naturally bent over forward, feeling the pressure in her back. Her fine ass was exposed, and the enforcers stopped when her arms were vertical, pointing to the ceiling, and she was bent all the way forward.

They took her then, as they did sometimes. First one, and then the other. Penetrating her, pleasuring themselves in her as they wished. The pain in her back, while significant, was not enough to distract her from the feeling of being fucked hard from behind, and she responded to the men's rough penetrations with several orgasms of her own.

When they were finished, they continued the process of twisting Anne's body in unnatural and painful ways. The hook continued to rise, and as it did, the pain shot through Anne's shoulders and chest. She felt her arms rising up so high she thought that surely they would be twisted out of their sockets, and she began crying, screaming as the pain grew worse.

Her feet off the floor, she swung, hanging by her arms behind her back, or rather above her back. She tried to cry out, to scream, but the strappado position was simply too severe and caused too much pain in her shoulders and chest. The painful pressure on her body kept her from taking deep breaths, and the only noise she could make was a sort of pitiful mewling.

Her first reaction was to kick her unrestrained legs while suspended. This proved very unwise, as it caused jerking on her painfully stretched arms. She quickly learned to stay as still as possible. She felt the semen from the two men trickling down her leg, and tears down her cheeks, as she hung suspended and whimpered.

The contrast between the pain of that suspension and the relatively minor inconvenience of postponing breathing for a bit while the good Doctor came in her throat was an important lesson learned. A lesson she had learned well. The Doctor took his good time as she stroked him with her tongue and throat, working her muscles to squeeze and stimulate him, gasping for small breaths while she could but most of the time simply working on him deep inside her.

He finally came, pouring copious amounts of his cock down her throat. It was a good thing, because she felt like she was going to black out from lack of oxygen soon. That would almost certainly result in a punishment she did not want to face. But as he came and she swallowed, she floated in her own land of pleasure, experiencing a slow warm orgasm of her own as she felt his muscles contract and push his cum out and down her throat.

When it was over, he held her. His touch was everything to her now. His approval was all she craved. She would do anything for him.

And he knew it.

-------------

The time came when the Doctor came in to her cell and told her she was to be given the opportunity to prove herself and her obedience as the ultimate submissive. Anne could feel the desire rising in her body. She wanted the chance to prove her obedience to him, even if it was the last thing she did. She told him so. He smiled and took her face in his hands, and kissed her gently.

"I believe you," he said.

They made love that evening. Not in her cell, but in his suite, above ground. In the fine bed with the drapes and tall posts and soft sheets. She could never remember such luxury, and she was in heaven as she rode him, pleased him, sucked him dry over and over.

When they finally fell exhausted in each others arms, she whispered "I Love You" to him.

"I love you too," he whispered, and they fell asleep.

----------

The next day, Anne returned to her cell. Still cold and hard concrete, she had accepted it as her home, indeed, it was all she knew of home now. She had forgotten her life before coming to this place. Her training was total and complete. She had learned obedience to the Doctor, and that was all she cared about.

That afternoon, the Doctor came to Anne and removed her from her cell. For the first time ever, she was allowed out without a leash attached to her collar. She felt naked without the leash, though she also felt proud in some way, that the Doctor trusted her, and that she had advanced to this level.

They ascended the stairs, and moved down a long hall and entered a large room with a central stage. The lighting in the room was dimmed, except for bright lights illuminating the stage, but Anne could still see that the room was filled with perhaps 50 people, all turning to look at her as she followed the Doctor to the stage. She bowed her head, immediately confused and embarrassed, but obediently followed the Doctor and climbed the steps in to the illumination.

She assumed the position, sitting on her legs with knees spread apart, hands behind her back. The Doctor provided her with the items they had discussed the day before. She had no fear, only anticipation and excitement. She was about to achieve more than she had ever believed she could in life. It would be, quite literally, the climax of her life.

The Doctor descended to join the rest of the audience, and Anne began.

The obedient slave took a large heavy plastic bag, spread it wide, and put it over her head. Next, she took a length of thin rope and wound it several times about her neck, securing the bag tightly. The rope was tied off, restricting but not preventing blood flow to her head, and sealing off her air supply. As she breathed, the plastic bag collapsed tightly around her head and face. When she exhaled, the bag expanded to a large balloon like bubble.

Anne sat on the stage, looking through the clear plastic. She saw the room about her, and even caught sight of the Doctor sitting in front of her in the audience. It was surreal, how she was completely free to move, no restraints of any kind, naked with knees spread on the stage with people looking at her, as she slowly ran out of air.

She moderated her breathing as she had learned to do. Her lovely breasts rose and fell with each breath, and the inside of the bag fogged over with humidity. As the oxygen level in her body dropped, she felt the twitch of urgency in her arms and legs. There was a need to move, to struggle, to breathe once again. She controlled the urge as long as she could, breathing steadily and not moving.

Sweat from the heat of the lights and the stress of the slow suffocation glistened on Anne's naked body. The audience was appreciative, and it seemed to Anne that she could hear excited talking, approving of her suffering.

As oxygen levels plummeted inside her, Anne felt an insane urge to rip the hood off and gasp for fresh air. She began to float, the lack of oxygen producing a poisonous euphoria. She redirected the need to struggle and tear off the hood and reached her hands down between her legs. Masturbating hard, the sexual sensations mixed with the joy of obedience, and the euphoria of oxygen deprivation. She climaxed, and as she did the strength of her body gave out and she fell over on the stage, no longer able to sit up.

The audience stood, straining to see Anne's convulsing body writhing on the stage. The struggle for air was reaching a climax for her, chest heaving, head thrashing back and forth, eyes staring and mouth wide open as the same air was sucked back in to her lungs, over and over. Even laying on the stage with strength disappearing, she was still massaging between her legs, reaching a second climax with seeming ease compared to her attempts to breathe.

Finally, the thrashing slowed. Anne felt her eyesight begin to blacken, her heart weakening. The burning desperation of her lungs had not lessened, but it felt as if she no longer had the will or strength to struggle for air.

As her arms fell to her sides and legs slumped over limply, her head turned toward the audience. Her face was clearly visible, eyes wide open and staring ahead. One hand reached up to the rope around her neck, the other out to the Doctor. Neither reached their intended objective. The expansion and contraction of the plastic bag had diminished now, as her breath came in shallow slow gasps.

Movement in her body ceased, except for a very slight movement of the plastic bag. When that finally ceased, there was a sound of simultaneous satisfaction and appreciation for the ultimate obedience that had just been witnessed.

The Doctor climbed on to the stage, and he leaned down, removed the bag and closed Anne's empty, staring eyes. He kissed her once on the lips.