Part 2 – A Longer Stay
Even after hours like this, it was still so strange to Catherine to have her eyes wide open, but to see absolutely nothing. The darkness made time twist. She knew she had been here for quite a while, but there was no way for her to actually know how long it had been since Lia left, since she was left to live out her fantasy of being a prisoner suffering in a dungeon. The hours had been both the best and worst that Catherine thought she had ever endured in her 31 years among the living.
At first, the darkness and her self-imposed bondage were exquisite. She had pulled and strained with her wrists and ankles, trying to wrench them free of the old wooden stocks she was “borrowing” from the castle museum. She imagined herself a poor innocent peasant woman accused of witchcraft awaiting her sentence. She imagined the scold’s bridle had been meant to silence her from defending herself in word or by spell, the metal tongue depressor of the apparatus doing its job to hush her protests to little more than whimpers and mewling. The bridle’s metal mouth cover, cold and sealing her mouth. A lattice of unforgiving metal straps wrapping her head and locked on with a heavy metal padlock.
Of course, in reality, she was the one who had applied the stocks and bridle. Still, the inky blackness of her accommodations in the castle museum’s dungeon room allowed her to dream her wonderfully wicked dreams. Catherine had no concept of how long her medieval fantasies consumed her lust filled mind, but eventually the heavy unforgiving stocks, the harshness and chill of the stone floor, and the oppressive bridle started making their discomforting embraces known. For a while, Catherine simply leaned into the growing pain and added it to her fantasies. Over time, though, her imagination gave way to the physical reality, and she slowly shifted from ecstasy at dreams fulfilled to agonizing discomfort. She would try to shift to get comfortable, but the wide wooden stocks made that a difficult prospect.
She soon found that laying on her sides was out of the question as it strained her bound limbs too much. Laying on her back proved viable for a time. It forced her hands and feet into the air, but by bringing her legs and arms in the right way, she could rest them against her chest for some relief. Over time, though, her limbs would ache from the weight of the stocks, and the cold, unforgiving stone floor would torment her back. The other position proved even more degrading. With some effort, she could roll around and rest on her front side, touching the ground with her knees, toes, and either the side of her face or her forehead. The position made her push her ass up into the air as if presenting it to the enveloping abyss of black surrounding her. Similar to her position on her back, though, eventually the ache from the uncaring stone floor would grow too great and she would have to shift her position again.
As the night dragged on, she found herself swinging from the bliss of her fantasies to the dull and painful boredom of resting in her restraints. It was somehow simultaneously the best and worst night of her life. Eventually, the pleasant imaginations faded fully, and only the practical discomfort of her night remained. She was exhausted and ached all over. She wished she had her keys, even though she would have no way to actually use them to set herself free bound as she was. She had gleefully watched the volunteer tour guide and fellow bondage enthusiast, Lia, walk away earlier in the night with her keys, her clothes, and everything else. Catherine had willingly consented to the absurd idea of remaining bound through the night.
The erotic notion that she would have to simply endure a night in her bondage burned through her body. That arousal, though, had faded and now she just wanted out, but could only wait for the cute younger brunette to return and set her free. Damn, she was tired. She tried to sleep a bit to hasten Lia’s return, but it was a futile effort. She could only nod off for a few minutes, but the aches in various body parts would inevitably wake her and she would have to shift her body again. Every little sound in the pitch-black darkness kindled false hope of her jailor’s return.
Laying there for the umpteenth time on her face, knees, and toes, Catherine thought she heard a distant noise from elsewhere in the castle. By this point, her hopes were long jaded, until she heard another unnatural sound. She couldn’t have imagined that, could she? Then she heard the best sound of her life, the distinct click of high heels on stone. Lia, or at least she hoped it was Lia, had returned. The sound of steps grew louder, and Catherine’s anticipation built. Then a flicker of artificial light from under the doorway. A key turn later and the old wooden door to the dungeon room swung open, and Lia stepped in carrying a burning torch.
The light was limited, but enough to make Catherine’s eyes squeeze shut for a second. She slowly started opening them again, adjusting to the new light as Lia carefully set the torch into a sconce on the wall. Catherine could see she carried her bag looped over her smart blue blouse, but Lia also carried another bag. With confidence, Lia approached Catherine’s nude and bound body, quickly releasing the two padlocks holding the stocks and bridle to her body. A soft demeanor matched by a reassuring tone, Lia asked, “How are you feeling? How was your evening?”
Catherine tried to talk, but made more of a croaking noise. Lia quickly retrieved a bottle of water and a smoothie. “Here, I thought you might need some water and energy,” the younger woman informed Catherine. She even helped the weakened woman drink, and drink she did, gulping down both the smoothie and water to sate her parched throat, and helping slightly with the hunger that had grown in her stomach. Finally, Catherine answered, “I’m a little tired, but that was both the most horrendous and electrifying thing I’ve ever experienced.”
A small smile appeared on Lia’s lips, “I am glad to hear that…here, take this to warm up.” Lia placed a soft warm blanket around Catherine before embracing the recently restrained woman. Catherine found it oddly comforting.
As she rested, cloaked in the blanket and Lia’s arms, Catherine noticed tension in the young tour guide’s body, a rigidity that grew with time, a smile that faded slowly to a grimace. Curious, she asked Lia, “Are you okay? Something seems to be eating at you.”
Taking a moment, Lia drew a long, heavy breath, “I am happy we could enjoy our shared interest, and the truth is I want to ask you a question…” The brunette’s words trailing off, hesitating for a brief moment, but then suddenly her conviction returned. Catherine, with no idea where this would go, remained silent. Lia’s lips parted again, and she made an intriguing query, “You enjoyed yourself quite well, it seems, am I correct?” Catherine, confused, nodded. “Gut, so I was thinking, would you…perhaps…be interested in a longer, more involved stay in the castle dungeon?” Trepidation and excitement mixed on the tour guide’s features.
Catherine had a similar look on her face as she sat up, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. “Well, I have to be honest, I very well might, but it depends on what you had in mind.”
Lia nodded and began detailing her thoughts. Catherine’s eyes went wide as she nodded along with the plan the young German woman had concocted for them. She explained that after today, the castle would be closed during the first part of the coming week. With the castle to themselves, Lia thought she could help Catherine enjoy a range of medieval restraints and devices, but more than that, she could actually take it further. Lia seemed to glow when she offered the idea that they could live out a little fantasy for at least a few days where she would act as Catherine’s jailor and treat her like a prisoner.
Catherine couldn’t deny the intense arousal she felt at the prospect of living out such a fantasy, but she was also a practical person with practical concerns, and she knew next to nothing about Lia. She conceded the idea was intriguing, but wanted to discuss the particulars. The two began a back-and-forth exchange sharing ideas and specific dos and don'ts of the roleplay scenario. A basic framework took shape. Catherine would be kept in a constant state of restraint and bondage for the duration of their play, an enticing situation for her.
Additionally, Lia would treat her harshly as if she was a real jailor, or at least their shared imagined fantasy of what a jailor should be, admitting to anachronisms to make it more 'fun.' Catherine, noticing the slightest glint of sadistic delight in Lia’s otherwise innocent eyes at the idea, dug down into what being treated harshly would entail, explaining to Lia that while she enjoyed fantasizing about being tortured, she actually didn’t like pain. Lia seemed a bit crestfallen at the words, but she agreed not to do anything that would constitute severe torture such as long-term markings or the like, but she pushed back that for Catherine to get the best and most ‘authentic’ experience, the possibility and occasional use of some form of minor to moderate torture would be essential. She explained it would give Catherine incentive to behave as a prisoner, and help build dread like a real prisoner would feel. Catherine was unsure, but there was a logic to it.
Lia patiently awaited Catherine’s decision as she contemplated. Eventually, the auburn-haired woman resolved she would never have a chance like this again, so she should go all in. To help, they agreed upon a hard stop safe word, "red,” and a simple safe gesture, clenching her hand into a fist and then raising her pointer and pink fingers as if making horns. Catherine felt better knowing no matter what happened, if Lia took the torture or anything else too far, she could always put an end to it with their safeties.
The conversation then turned to other details of the extended roleplay. For one, there was the duration. Lia was home from university for the summer and seemingly had no responsibilities that would significantly impact them. Catherine admitted she had checked out of her local bed-and-breakfast yesterday, as she had planned to leave town after her little self-bondage last night. She also still had just over a week left on her holiday. Catherine had hoped to use that time to scout a few other promising candidates for her castle museum excursions, but she had booked nothing in particular.
This left them with a great deal of flexibility. Lia purposed two or three days straight of the play, but Catherine’s devious mind offered more, “What if instead of a pre-established number of days we agree to a range, and as the play progresses you get to decide the exact point at which I will be freed, but keep it from me?”
Lia’s mouth was agape, surprised, but it soon turned to a predatory vision. “You are not expected home for eight days, so why don’t we make the term from two days minimum to a full week at maximum?”
Catherine looked aroused. The idea of not knowing when she would be released and the possibility of living her fantasy for a full week was nearly enough to make her cum here on the spot. She could feel how damp her pussy was, and she could see Lia gawking at her exposed and wet sex. As they always did, practical thoughts rushed into her mind though, “But how would that work?...I mean, with the other volunteers and guests?”
Lia seemed unconcerned, as she explained, “When I am home during the summer, the other tour guides who volunteer often let me have every shift I ask for. I think since they are all elderly, they see me as a granddaughter or something. I’m already signed up for most shifts over the next week, and I am sure I can get the others.” Tapping her chin absently, Lia continued, “As for guests, we are closed most of the weekdays, so we would only need to account for Friday through Sunday. I think we can find ways to hide you away while any visitors are here.” Shrugging, she added, “We usually don’t get many, anyway. Yesterday was a real rarity.”
Though not an exhibitionist, Catherine had to admit that the idea of being bound somewhere in the castle while guests looked around was surprisingly erotic to her mind, and Lia’s confidence was surprisingly convincing. Catherine agreed. They quickly worked out a few other minor details and reviewed their agreed to parameters.
Lia then urged Catherine to use the modernized bathroom of the holdfast to clean up and get ready, but she needed to do it quickly since the castle would open in just under an hour. Catherine, only cloaked in the soft blanket, rushed to use the restroom and splash some water in her face.
Looking in the mirror, she felt the pressure of anxiety and fear grip her. Could she go through with this? Could she trust Lia? What had that odd, almost sadistic glint in Lia’s eyes meant? Then another question overshadowed her apprehension. When would she ever get an opportunity like this again? The answer was simple: never. Having decided, she made her way quickly back down to the dungeon room. Lia stood there as Catherine dropped the blanket at the door and entered the space fully nude.
There seemed to be a bit of nervousness on Lia’s face as well, her voice almost trembling as she asked Catherine, “Um, so are you are okay with our terms, and to spending the next several days as a prisoner? With me in complete control of you?”
Instead of immediately answering as Lia probably expected, Catherine walked briskly across the small cramped room and kneeled down in front of the younger woman, her legs spread open exposing her womanhood, she laced her hands behind her head and looked directly into Lia’s dark expectant eyes, “I, Catherine Evers, of sound mind agree to our terms and to being your prisoner for as long as you wish during the next seven days.”
Lia seemed to nearly collapse in pleasure from the presentation, her legs quivering slightly in her smart business style skirt. As a follow up, Lia made Catherine confirm their safe word and gesture. This appeared to give the younger brunette time to recover, and once satisfied, she declared, “Visitors will be here soon, so let’s not waste time and begin.” A finality to the statement. There was a sudden shift in the air as Lia straightened and affected an imperious posture before barking her first order. “Prisoner! Eyes to the floor, and remain in this position. This will be your automatic position when not shackled or bound. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Catherine blurted out, surprised by the tone shift.
“And you will address me formally as Ms. Richter, prisoner!”
“Yes, Ms. Richter,” Catherine quickly corrected herself and averted her gaze to the floor. Her heart raced with excitement. She was shocked at how quickly they both seemed to be taking on their roles. As Catherine contemplated the situation, she heard Lia’s heels click across the stone floor and the sound of a few metal objects being picked up.
Without a word, Lia roughly seized Catherine’s wrists and pulled them down and together behind the older woman’s back. Catherine felt the familiar embrace of cold iron manacles clasp her wrists. They were heavy, and the creaking noises they made as they were closed and locked on made it clear they were an old pair from the castle’s collection. Inside, Catherine smiled at the sensations. Her ankles soon experienced the same, though the clank of metal links told her the chain between her feet was longer to allow some mobility. Lia stepped around and squatted in front of Catherine, showing her the next addition to her restraints. It was Catherine’s own scold’s bridle, and soon the oppressive metal bands and plates held her head and tongue in their controlling embrace.
“Stand and follow, prisoner!” She struggled to stand shackled as she was, but after a brief exertion, she managed. Catherine expected to be led to some closet or storage space to hide her away from guests for much of the day, but her journey was much shorter than expected.
Lia led her prisoner to a standing cage made of metal bands and opened it. Catherine paused, confused, the cage would be a tight fit, but more than that, it would leave her nude body exposed to any visitors. Seeing the hesitation, Lia, in her jailor persona, barked, “IN NOW, PRISONER!”
Catherine jumped at the sharpness of the woman’s voice. She could already feel herself getting wet from the dehumanizing title “prisoner” and the harsh commands. Stepping into the cage, Catherine felt cold iron on her soles and heard the rattle of her hobble chain scrape across the cage’s floor.
She must not have moved far enough into the cramped space as her jailer shouted, “I SAID IN, PRISONER!” Catherine felt a hand seize her auburn hair and painfully drive her against the front bands of the cage. The metal bridle protected her face as she heard it clang against the cage. The rest of her was less fortunate. All across the front of herself she felt the cold iron press, goose pimples flaring across skin from the touch of the metal and her own anticipation. One of her knees banged against the iron, causing a muffled cry of pain.
She felt the hand move and quickly felt cold iron bands press against her backside as well. The distinct clicks of not one, but three padlocks securing the cage. Catherine’s observation about the size of the cage being too small proved prophetic. Her average sized chest and ass were pressed severely against the iron, bulging around the oppressive metal and her hips grazed the sides of the cage.
There was no way for her to do anything but stand at attention. Catherine whimpered at her condition, suspecting she would be in it for a fairly long and arduous period. Suddenly, a tarp was drawn over the cage. As it settled, it fully covered the small prison, hiding Catherine. Lia added, “Prisoner, we have a long day of four hours for visitors. You are to remain like this for the entirety. You will be completely silent and not interrupt our guests or you will be reprimanded.”
Catherine listened, trapped claustrophobically in the cage, as Lia departed. Likely to attend to any visitors. What seemed like an eternity later, the sound of voices echoed down the hallway. Catherine’s body went rigid as she listened to Lia lead a group in with a cheerful laugh. The harsh jailor tones of earlier having vanished. Lia explained a variety of the items in the room. She was warm and engaging as she spoke.
Knowing that many of those implements might be used on her, and the erotic nature of being hidden only by the tarp from a group of five, perhaps strangers, Catherine couldn’t help but let out a small moan. Quickly realizing her mistake, Catherine tried to remain still and quiet. She thought she might have gotten away with it until a male’s voice asked what was under the tarp.
“Our dungeon’s current prisoner,” Lia answered, a mirthful hue to her words that elicited chuckles from her audience. Lia discussed a few more details with her group before leading them onto another part of the tour. Once she was done with the group, Lia returned and coldly spoke through the tarp, “I had better not hear that again, prisoner. You are to remain silent when visitors are here.”
The day dragged on. Aches and cramps flared across Catherine’s body, but the small standing cage she was locked in gave her no room to do much to relieve them. She could shuffle her feet, flex her fingers, and move her head, but that was about the extent of her mobility. It was intoxicating.
Twice more Lia brought visitors through. Each time making the same joke about the tarp covering the dungeon’s current prisoner. Each time, Catherine grew wet at the humiliating joke. After the second tour group, Catherine worked a couple of her fingers tentatively to her pussy. It was just enough to allow her to build herself up to a small, hushed orgasm while she thought no one was around.
The afternoon proved far less exciting as no visitors came through. The cramps in Catherine’s legs and the crushing effects of the slightly too narrow cage made the time until the site closed an agonizing slog, but one that let her slip in and out of fantasies. It did little to help, much with the boredom. Hunger pangs started setting in as well. She hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast the previous morning besides the single smoothie Lia had brought her, and she also had urgent bodily needs that added to her discomfort and pain. The reality of being a prisoner certainly lacked the glamour of her fantasies, yet she still wouldn’t trade it for the world. She spent much of the day, even the boring portions, constantly aroused.
Finally, with little fanfare, Lia entered the dungeon and announced to Catherine that the site was officially closed to the public and it would now just be the two of them. The confined woman had expected to be let out of the cage, but she heard the door close again. She began to wonder if Lia was planning for her to remain here all night. She desperately hoped that wasn’t the case, but she knew it was out of her control now. She had agreed to be Lia’s prisoner, and Lia would make those decisions for her for the foreseeable future.
As the auburn-haired prisoner wondered if indeed she would be left like this, the door opened again. Catherine made out the squeak of metal and something being set down on one of the tables. Without a word, Lia cast down the tarp, the material crinkling as it moved, allowing her prisoner to see the room for the first time since this morning. Lia turned away immediately, ignoring the slightly fidgeting woman and her pleading eyes. Small pitiful noises of distress emanated from beneath the scold’s bridle. Catherine was indeed in a great deal of pain and suffering, but she made no effort to make her safety signal.
She watched, distraught, from her place behind the lattice of cold iron as Lia sat down on a simple plastic folding chair. Almost bored, the woman began eating some kind of food she had brought, but that Catherine could not quite see from her angle. She could certainly smell it, though. The aroma was strong and enticing. Lia occasionally turned to stare blankly at the caged woman. A pang of hunger knifed at Catherine’s stomach, and it enhanced the pain across her body.
The auburn-haired bondage enthusiast shifted desperately from one cramped leg to the other in a pathetic effort to find some measure of relief. Her chains scraping and rattling in the horrid confines of her cage. With pleading eyes and pitiful moans, she tried to make Lia understand her needs. The young brunette’s eyes kept frustratingly staring at her with a maddening, and honestly arousing, blank and unmoved look.
As Catherine’s pathetic pleas turned to more desperate, louder whines, Lia finally appeared to take notice. She strode up to the cage; her face inches away from Catherine. “Prisoner, you were unruly today. I am going to leave you here for another hour, then we will attend to your needs.” The confined woman was forlorn and panicky. Another hour trapped, hungry, and in need of the lavatory? It wasn't human, but that was the deliciously perfect thing about it, and Catherine moaned at her torturous fate as Lia walked back out, leaving the door to the room ajar.
The next hour was unbearable. Her stomach growled fiercely and hunger gnawed at her. She knew she wouldn’t starve, but it still had been a long time without a real meal. The hunger was the least of her concerns though. She had been standing for hours cramped in the confines of her unyielding prison. Her bare feet were numb, her joints groaned from the forced position, every little shift sending a new jolt of searing pain through them.
Muscle cramps seemed to simply migrate instead of ceasing. The only real outlet she had was that straining just the right way, she could barely reach her pussy with her fingers. It caused plenty of extra pain that Catherine didn’t want, but it did allow her to reach another small climax that helped pass the time and lessen the burden of her hellish physical existence.
As she finished, the bondage enthusiast realized she wasn’t alone anymore. At some point the tour guide turned jailer had returned silently. Catherine’s body slumped at being caught in the act, but her heart fluttered at what punishment she, as Lia’s prisoner, might receive. What wonderfully restrictive medieval devices would she endure for her little transgression?
Lia’s eyes said she was beyond happy at having an excuse to increase the caged woman’s bondage and torment. “Prisoner, I must say you prove insubordinate again,” she leaned back, arms folded in a relaxed but authoritative position. “I had planned to attend to your basic needs, but now I am thinking that you need a lesson instead.” Catherine hoped the lesson was more bondage and not physical torture. She had agreed to the latter as being a part of the game they were playing, but she preferred the idea that the punishment could mean more wonderful bindings, not pain.
The answer proved to be a bit of both and a bit of neither. Lia approached the cage, tracing a finger along the iron around Catherine’s crushed chest, occasionally straying onto the tender flesh. Not enough to cause real pain, but enough to surprise the bound woman. “Prisoner, I will let you out of this cage to deal with some basic bodily needs,” her foot sliding an old wooden bucket next to the cage. “But this little indecency,” a hand grazing Catherine’s lower lips, “means you need to be better restrained.” The caged woman moaned into the metal of the scold’s bridle. A heady mix of pain from her hours standing and arousal from the bondage and humiliation. “And no dinner for disobedient and noisy prisoners,” Lia said, delighting in the dismayed look on Catherine's metal ensnared face.
True to her word, Lia released her mercifully from her fiendish enclosure, though the restraints remained in place. It made seeing to her own bodily functions with the bucket difficult, especially with how badly her legs hurt, but she managed. It was degrading beyond words to do this in front of another person, but that seemed to add to this strange mixed feeling of yearning for this crazy fantasy made real and her dread at its reality. When she was done, she turned back to her jailor, who stood there with a metal contraption in hand. Immediately, Catherine's heart sank as she recognized the horrid device as an antiquated chastity belt.
Lia allowed herself a wry devilish smile, seeing Catherine's reaction. “Since you have misbehaved and proven, you cannot be trusted, prisoner. This will be your companion for the entirety of your stay.” Despondence and disbelief wracked the shackled auburn-haired woman. She was going to be denied the one decent distraction that had helped her through her first day as a prisoner. She mewled pleadingly into the scold’s bridle as Lia attached the accursed item, ignoring her.
“Now, for your accommodations for the evening.” Catherine's eyes flicked to the standing cage, fearful she'd be forced back in. Her jailor chuckled slightly following her line of sight, “Don't worry, I have something else in mind, prisoner.” Relief and anxiety swirled in Catherine's chest. Her jailor removed the bridle, warning her not to speak unless spoken to. Catherine worked her sore jaw but complied with the order. Then Lia abruptly seized her by the upper arm and led her shuffling to another part of the cramped room.
Catherine gasped with excitement as she came to a stop by a worn and old horizontal rack. Lia released her ankle shackles and helped her onto the wooden boards before locking the cuffs connected to the bottom of the device to Catherine's ankles. Sitting upright, her wrists were released. Instinctively, she rubbed where they had cut into her skin over the past day, but before she could soothe the pained flesh, Lia barked a new order, “Lay back, prisoner.”
Catherine hurried to follow instructions. Soon her hands were locked away above her head in manacles connected to a crank ominously sitting there. Nervously, yet excitedly, she shifted her wrists and ankles. The metal scraped against wood, a divine sound to Catherine's ears. She made a barely audible sigh as she luxuriated in the moment. She had always dreamt of being lashed to a rack with no way to escape and at someone else's mercy.
Sure, she had cuffed herself to a rack or two over her years of visiting medieval sites, but that was so different from this experience. Her yearning eyes drifted to Lia. The woman's hands rested tantalizingly and ominously on the crank. Her pretend jailor looked just as excited as she did, the mask of her role dropping as she gave a small wink to her captive. With a steady pace, the device creaked and groaned to life as the younger woman turned the crank. The rattle of the chain was the first herald of what was about to befall Catherine.
Her breath quickened in anticipation. What would it feel like to finally be properly stretched? she wondered. Would she detest it like being whipped, or would it be an ache more akin to what she tolerated after hours of being restrained?
Then the pull started. Her breath seized at the sensation. This was it. She would taste a torture only fantasized previously. She feared the pain but relished the experience. Her arms pulled taut. Her body slid across the wood, surrendering every bit of slack to the device. A tug came at her ankles as her body stretched to accommodate the unforgiving rack. Catherine gasped, not yet at any pain, but at the allure of the moment. She was on the precipice. She thought she heard a small laugh from her jailor, but couldn’t be sure.
Then the tension in her joints worsened. Strain became burning, and burning became agony. Catherine's hatred for actual pain warred with her need to experience her fantasy. She clenched her teeth, trying to take the increasing torment. She wished for something to bite down on lamenting the lack of gag.
Another crank and another wave of pain. Catherine squeezed her eyes tight, trying to endure. Another crank and her joints screamed, her mind panicking at the sensation. She imagined her ligaments tearing and ripping. Hold it together, Catherine shouted in her mind, wanting the fantasy to play out a little longer as her body tried to convince her to use her safeword. Another crank.
Despite her best efforts, a pained cry escaped her lips as tears rolled down her face. She rushed to shout her safeword, but before she could, she heard the crank turn. She braced for more agony, but instead felt the tension slacken slightly. A few more cranks and the pain was gone, though she remained stretched out.
Lia's pretty face came into her field of view. She looked concerned, but said nothing. Catherine, for her part, panted, trying to recover from the pain and exhilaration. She still hated actual pain, but the situation had been fantastic in spite of it. Once her breathing slowed and quieted, Lia finally spoke, her concern still there in her eyes but her jailor mask seemed to have partially returned, “Now you know the consequences for disobedience, prisoner.”
The stretched woman couldn’t help but lick her lips. She might have to disobey again to see what other punishments would occur. Lia stalked back to the crank and loosened the restraints by a few more turns, but surprisingly didn't fully release Catherine. She remained shackled to the wooden surface, her arms stretched above, but now with perhaps eight or nine centimeters of give.
“This is how you will sleep tonight, prisoner. And you best get some rest. Tomorrow your labours start.” The words were delivered with an undertone of a threat. Labours? What does that mean? Catherine wondered.
Lia gathered a few items and left the room. The door closed behind her, followed by the familiar sound of a key locking the door. Catherine once again found herself bound and cast into darkness. This time she was resting on something that, while hard and uncomfortable, might pass for a bed.
Using the small amount of slack provided at her wrists, she shifted down slightly to relieve the tension on her ankles. In the dark, the chastity belt groaned against the wood as she shifted and the chains rattled. This was heaven. Humiliating and aching, but heaven nonetheless.
Catherine drifted into exhausted slumber despite the sleeping arrangements and her continued hunger, wondering what delights her captivity would bring next. She only awoke once, briefly. For the few muddled moments of consciousness, she tried to register what had awakened her. She thought she heard someone else panting. That couldn't be, of course, so her tired mind fell back into its rest. Dreams of locked bliss dancing through her mind.
She didn’t stir again until the sound of creaking wood on stone brought her to consciousness suddenly hours later. A sluggish mind struggled to register an assault on her senses. The pitch blackness of the night was now bathed in light. A voice was speaking, Lia’s. Catherine missed the first few words before she could focus on them. “…Are you listening, prisoner? I said, guten morgen.”
The auburn-haired prisoner’s eyes fluttered as they adjusted to the light engulfing the dungeon room. She turned to see Lia smartly dressed, approaching the rack, keys in hand, and an expectant look. Working her jaw, Catherine managed a lethargic, “Morning, Ms. Richter.” Nearly forgetting the proper honorific to their little game. A satisfied smile spread across the German jailor as she set about unlocking the heavy shackles, ensnaring Catherine.
“It’s breakfast time, prisoner,” she said, no crack in her persona. A simple finger pointing to the floor cajoled the unfettered, but still naked woman to slink off her torture device turned bed. Her legs ached, really almost everything did, as she assumed the previously established position for when she wasn’t bound. She waited, eyes to the floor, while Lia stepped away for a moment, returning with a simple wooden plate and mug that she set before Catherine.
“Here, eat, prisoner,” Lia said cooly as she nudged the plate and its contents, a hunk of crusty bread, towards Catherine with her shoe. Without looking up, the English woman turned prisoner, seized the stale bread and tore into it ravenously as her stomach gurgled, a timely reminder of her hunger. “Gut, make sure to eat it all. You’ll need strength. Today you begin your penance with hard labour.” Catherine chomped on the crunchy bread and took hearty droughts of tangy tasting water as two thoughts raced through her mind. First, what wonderful restraints would she endure today? A faint smile emerging on her own lips at the thought. And second, what the hell would ‘hard labour’ entail? She couldn’t wait to see what her second day of lived out fantasy would bring.