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Monica and the Black Fortress

by Richard Alexander (Gromets Plaza)

(story continues from Monica and the Black Fortress)

Chapter Ten  –  Dog Day Afternoon: Trish’s Story

We stayed on all fours for perhaps half an hour, locked in the neck restraints and joined at butt and pussy by the plugs on the poles.  It was Sunday morning.  I wondered what Jill and Emma were doing.  Were they searching for us?  What leads would they have?  Would they go to the police?  Were we bringing the whole Bilboes enterprise down in Monica’s absence? The day was starting to warm up and I could feel myself sweating inside my pvc dress – partly due to the sun and partly due to my own thoughts.  My discomfort because of the heat turned out not to be a big problem as I was soon to lose it when Bennelli returned after presumably knocking off his beer.

I was the first to experience his next level of humiliation as he again climbed into the cage, and proceeded to unzip my dress and pull it free, one arm at a time.  A gentle breeze played over my skin, and pleasant as this was, I felt even more vulnerable in my nakedness.  Bennelli seemed to appreciate this, as he lay down beside me and played with my defenceless breasts, cupping them and fondling them, then pinching the nipples so I squawked into my gag but could not prevent them hardening in response.  When this happened he made appreciative noises and took his time in tying a length of thin string around each nipple.  I whined as he pulled each knot tight, then took the left length back to tie the other end around my left thigh, just above the knee.  It was still a lose connection, but I realised if I tried to straighten up I would come to a rapid and painful halt.

The other nipple-thigh connection followed and then he began to mess about with the poles and plugs.  The lower one was easy, and after presumably cutting the tape, he slid the big phallus out with no forewarning.  I gasped under the mask and hood, as the insert was withdrawn, leaving a weird, empty void that was at once a relief but also left an unsettled feeling.  He gave me more warning with the butt plug.

“This is coming out now,” he said, waggling the thing inside me.  “And it better be the only thing coming out  - understand me, bitch?”  I grunted an affirmative, but I was terrified that my body might betray me.  Fearfully I clenched my sphincter muscle as he twisted the plug then slowly eased it out.  As the widest part passed through, I held my breath and closed my eyes, straining to control my muscles down there.  Then the plug was gone, and I was sucking in air for all I was worth.  He slapped me on the butt.

“Good dog.”

Now he felt able to release my neck restraint, and that was not a moment too soon as far as I was concerned.  I could finally sit back on my haunches, easing muscles that were starting to tremble under the strain of not having any alternative positions for resting until now.  I was still chained to the post, and this lock was next to be undone.  Had he left me then, with my hands taped up I doubted that I would be able to free myself, but that was not his intention anyway.  

“Out of the cage,” he commanded.  Trailing the chain around my neck, I turned around and slowly eased myself through the door.  Forgetting myself, I instinctively tried to stand up straight, only to get halfway there when the nipple strings grew taut and pain shot through my breasts.  I stood there momentarily, bent over, before he slapped me across the backside with a rubber hose of some sort.

“On your hands and knees, stupid!  Dogs can’t walk upright!”

I dropped to the ground and the pulling ceased on my nipples.  But just when I thought my poor butt hole had had more than its share of torture, a new torment offered itself.

“Stay!” he commanded, and a new invader was nuzzling at my back passage.  It slid in relatively easily, but I then felt the familiar pressure of an expanding plug, accompanied by a faint hissing as he squeezed the hand pump.  I whined again in protest, which probably only drew a couple of further squeezes as the thing inflated inside me, pressuring all my sensitive parts.  I panted and groaned, but probably this was audible to nobody but me.  

He fiddled about for a few seconds, then pushed my head down between my arms.  I could now just see what looked like a tail hanging behind me, probably the inflation hose with the squeeze bulb removed.

“Like your new tail, bitch?” Bennelli grinned.  It almost touched the ground.  “I want you to wag it for me.  Go on, swing that tail!”

I waggled my butt as best I could – a humiliating display which Bennelli evidently thought was sufficient, for he laughed at my efforts.

“Excellent!”  He picked up the loose end of the neck chain and stepped out, pulling me behind him as we headed towards the house.  I had just time to look at Mary, and was shocked to see that her leather hood had two leather ears standing upright, above the muzzle and eyes staring at me through the eyeholes.  So that was why the hood had felt different.  Mary looked at me sadly, trapped still in the cage with the two poles from between her legs resting on the floor of the cage.  She still wore the lycra skirt and pvc top, but I suspected they would shortly be deemed surplus to requirements.

It was a long way to the house on one’s hands and knees.  Bennelli was not going excessively fast, but fast enough for me as I struggled to keep up.  Every time I took a longer ‘pace’ than usual, the string tugged fiercely on my nipples, and I was making little grunts and yelps of pain as we walked through the grass up to the house.  Now I wished I had worn my own thigh boots, for if Mary went through the same process as this, at least her knees would be protected.  My white knee-length boots were still going to take a drubbing, though, as I dragged my toes through the grass.

We reached the house and I painfully dragged myself up the front steps, to kneel naked, hooded and masked beside one of the verandah posts to which Bennelli locked my chain.

“Stay!” he said with a grin, then turned and walked back down to the cage to fetch Mary.

I say there on my haunches, conscious of the inflated plug in my backside and rapidly realising how powerless I was without the use of my hands.  I pawed at my nipples, but had no chance of undoing the strings.  Nor could I undo the buckle on my muzzle, nor could I work the valve on the inflatable plug.  I was frustrated as all hell, and found myself making garbled noises to myself.  Even if I could have freed myself of some of these impediments, however, I was still chained at the neck, and it was pretty evident that I was going nowhere in a hurry.

Five minutes later Bennelli was coming up the hill again with Mary at his side, her muzzled head bobbing up and down as she struggled to keep pace scurrying along on all fours.  Mary was now naked as well, save for her thigh boots.  I could see the momentary distensions of her nipples as her ‘strides’ became too big and the string tugged hard on her tender nubs.  Behind her swung a black tail the same as mine, and I knew she was also the victim of an inflatable butt plug. 

I could hear her ragged breathing through the filter as we made eye contact at the top of the steps.  The pair stopped momentarily and Bennelli fished a blindfold from his pocket.  It was of leather, and was able to be fitted to Mary’s hood by means of press-studs.  She would now be blind as well as silent - a situation that always seemed to make whatever followed a hundred times worse, simply through heightened sensitivity and heightened helplessness.  She was led around the verandah to the side of the house out of my sight and they were gone some ten minutes.  Bennelli returned alone.

Now it was my turn, and on went a second blindfold, his fingers pressing down hard on the studs as the sight disappeared and I found myself in a darkened world.  There was the faint sound of the padlock being undone from the post, then I was jerked along and had no alternative but the crawl along the verandah in hot pursuit of my now unseen jailor.  

I sensed the turn at the corner, and a few paces after that I was made to climb over a low protrusion on the floor.  More specifically, I was positioned over it, and I immediately knew what it was.  Seconds later my ankles were trapped in a pair of stocks as I knelt there.  My booted ankles rested in two wooden semi-circles of wood, and I felt two separate upper curves of metal being placed over the top and then screwed down, somehow, so that my ankles were snugly secured, by the metal top pieces, about half a metre apart.  

It got worse from then on, when Bennelli reached between my legs and grabbed my left wrist, pushing my head down to the floor and pulling my wrist between my legs, level with my ankles.  I tried to struggle, but with my legs already immobilised, and unable to see what I was doing, it was quite futile.  He was sufficiently strong that one hand held my taped fist in a further wooden semi-circle while the other screwed down another top section of steel.  

The securing of my right wrist was a formality, for my cheek was already on the floor and my right arm was the only part of me left that could still move about.  That problem was soon taken care of and I found myself trapped immovably with my wrists and ankles side by side in stocks, my head on the floor and my bum sticking up in the air, about as vulnerable at it was possible to get.

I knew Bennelli was now going to get down to business.  He was going to torture us for all that we had done to him, and for what we had put him through, and there was no doubt that it would be painful and protracted.

Bennelli paced alongside us – for I assumed Mary was somewhere close beside me – and I found myself trembling in anticipation with a mixture of fear and physical strain, for the position was quite stringent.   A hand was laid on my buttock, massaging it, then the other, then tugging at my tail which was connected to the inflated plug inside me.  I snorted, then let out a stifled cry as the hand smacked down hard.  Bennelli then stood astride where I half-knelt as though in supplication, and beat out a wild tattoo on my upturned cheeks.  I writhed and moaned but could barely move. 

The hands stopped finally, leaving my buttocks on fire, but he had barely begun.  He moved away and the next moment there was a stinging pain as something cracked across my taut buttocks again.  It felt like a doubled up electrical cord, delivered with all the force he could muster.  I jerked and tugged at the metal restraints screwed down over my wrists and ankles as the cord flailed down on my backside.  Following on after the spanking my bottom was now hot and sore, and the striking cord saw me screaming into the ball trapped in my mouth.  I turned my head to rest the other cheek on the floor, but that was pretty much all the movement I could manage.  I was crying under the hood and breathing was really hard through the filter.  The blows continued to rain down on my bare back, bottom and legs.

By the time the beating stopped I was crying my heart out, my body wracked with sobs, but such a display counted for nothing, except perhaps Bennelli’s vengeful satisfaction.  Things went quiet for a bit – or at least as far as the flogging was concerned.  Not surprisingly, he had turned his attention to Mary, and I could sense the movement of air over my skin and the occasional brush of his jeans as he moved around.  The old floorboards creaked with each blow as he shifted his weight and I could hear muffled grunts coming from somewhere very close. 

The open handed smacks turned to crisp cracks of the electrical flex, and Mary’s grunts turned to stifled screams.  I was even harder for her since she had been the target for a beating the previous day, when we were tied up in the dungeon.  Whatever I had felt, Mary’s pain would be a lot worse, coming on top of her existing bruised and welted skin.

When Mary’s beating ceased I was almost under control again, but hurting all over.  A few minutes passed and I could still sense movement going on around us.  There were scrapes across the floorboards and intermittent vibrations that might have come from some sort of heavy object being dragged around.  We, of course, could do nothing but wait with trepidation for the next torment that this lunatic had planned for us.

The first inkling came when the plug in my arse was deflated and roughly extracted.  I groaned some more, but the relief was very temporary, for the inflatable was immediately replaced by another phallus, which seemed to be connected to something.  It was pushed halfway in, then stopped.  There was a further pause and the sense that Bennelli was arranging things.

His voice was close to my head when he next spoke.  He must have been squatting just in front of me, and slightly to my right.  I felt like I was kneeling at the executioner’s block, waiting for the dreadful blow to fall.

“I’ve waited months for this moment,” Bennelli said, his voice heavy with satisfaction.  “Let me tell you a little of what you two bitches put me through when you boxed me up in that crate and sent me to Sydney.  Yes, you will be pleased to know I wound up with the Bi-bikers and Dykes on Bikes.  And that letter you put into the box sure worked a treat.”  Letter, I thought?  What letter?  I’d put no letter into the box.  It must have been Mary.  God, what had she said?

“You described what I’d done in great detail, though you said nothing about what you’d done to me, you sluts!” I could tell now that his tone was changing with the memory, and he was now spitting his bitterness out.  “I was treated as guilty.  I got no chance to put my side of the story!”

What side of breaking into our property, tying up Jill and attempting to rape her did he want to put, I wondered?

“They kept me in a garage for three months, chained to a bed which was bolted to the floor.  They used to work on their bikes there, and work on me when they’d got tired of that.  The dykes in particular took pleasure in doing me over regularly with a strap-on or anything else that happened to be handy.  Have you ever been gang-raped by males and females?”

No, I thought vindictively, and I hope it hurt like hell!

“Turns out I can’t get it up any more,” he said harshly.  “Which makes it all the more frustrating that I can’t personally give you the thorough going over you’ll get.  Instead I’ve thought about what I’m going to do over several months, and I’ve had time to build my little machine here.  Of course, you two can’t see it, though you will in time.  I like to keep you in the dark, ya see.  This time you’ll just have to pretend it’s me giving you a screw in person.  The best thing going for me is that I can do both of ya at once.”

So that explained some things, such as why he had not attempted to screw us when we were in the cage, and why he didn’t seem to get physically aroused as we were forced to climax.  He was impotent now, and it couldn’t have happened to a more deserving person, I thought cruelly.  Bastard!

He had now moved, stepping between us and somehow re-positioning himself behind us.  The dildo jammed in my butt hole began to move, forcing its way in, driving its full and not inconsiderable length up my arse, before withdrawing halfway and repeating the cycle.  It was a sizeable phallus and I caught myself groaning with this new indignity on top of the whipping I had just endured.  

“Is that good, Trish?  And Mary?  I can just sit here and pedal away to my heart’s content.  This is the ultimate exercycle.  Not only do I get some exercise, but I have the distinct pleasure of seeing you two take it in the arse.  Would I be right in thinking that dommes don’t particularly enjoy being on the receiving end like this?”  It was a totally rhetorical question for he knew he was doing everything right when it came to degrading us.

Of course we had both taken it this way many times, and under the right circumstances I will be the first to admit it could be quite pleasant, but when you’ve just been whipped, are bent over into an immovable and shaming position, and the thing going up your backside is an inanimate, unfeeling object, it is about as low as you can get.

The piston-like intruder seemed to speed up and slow down and I could feel the floorboards moving slightly with the effort that Bennelli was obviously putting in.  He would be loving this, I thought, screwing the two women who had punished him.  Revenge would be sweet, and there was nothing we could do about it.  However my thoughts that this was an all time low changed when on top of the thrusting, filling driving motion there was a sudden burst of pain.  My God, I thought, he’s got it wired up as well!  This was no butt plug with an electrode that at least had the decency to give you a jolt while locked in position.  This was a moving dildo with one or more electrodes that delivered the aforementioned jolt in a different location inside you, depending on the depth of penetration at the time.

I gasped and tried to wriggle, making pathetic mmphing noises of protest as another shock hit my insides.  He must have been activating it by hand, for the shocks were not regular, like a machine.  It must have been like ringing a bell on a bicycle.  I could hear him sniggering each time he pushed whatever button lay under his thumb, as he watched us jerk and struggle futilely in out restraints.  This was the day he had been thinking about for so long, and everything was going according to plan.  What a shame it was that he could derive no sexual release from all of this, I thought bitterly.  It meant that the punishment would just keep coming and coming until we were probably driven insane,.  Perhaps just like he had been, though he had clearly been a few light bulbs short of a candelabra before he ever came anywhere near Bilboes.  Or maybe the light bulbs were just incorrectly wired… 

The torture went on and on.  Our only hope was that eventually he would get tired, and this was what finally happened.  Without a word in our direction he stopped his exercise, leaving the dildos fully inserted, climbed off the exercycle and went into the house.  My body went limp, for I was strung out in every muscle, and now a fit of trembling set in.  I had almost got past crying but more tears seeped out into the leather hood and blindfold which by now was soaked with my sweat.  The rigid position I was forced into did nothing to help my muscles, some of which were in danger of cramping. 

I tried to relax, to focus on some yoga techniques I practised, but yoga presupposed you could actually move, could change from one position to another.  I turned my head for the umpteenth time, resting my left cheek on the floor and facing towards where Mary must be in a similar position only a foot or two away.  I let out a long sigh that was a release of pain and despair, and was rewarded with an answering moan from Mary.  I made some grunting noises and Mary replied.  They meant nothing, other than that she was still there and suffering the same as I was.  It was moral support in our emotional nadir.

The sun climbed and beat down on our exposed and whipped skin as we knelt on the verandah, trapped in the shackles screwed around our wrists and ankles.  This had to be a part of Bennelli’s plan as well, I thought.  Give us a nice all over case of sunburn into the bargain.  Any more floggings would be twice as bad from here on.  This man had thought everything through and that scared me.  He was like an evil version of Steven, who had such a love of planning and building stuff, and who I held in enormous regard.

My mind drifted off.  I wondered where Steven was now?  Probably swanning around in some ritzy hotel by the pool, pretending to be Monica’s technical assistant.  God, I wished he was here – not suffering with me, but unlocking these vices at my wrists and ankles like some sort of knight to the rescue.  I would never think bad things about him again, nor would I take advantage of him… Well, I was sure he had no complaints concerning the times we had got it together… He was like a brother, really, not that I’m into incest…

My mind was wandering, my thoughts becoming a jumble of confusion between pain and reality.  I might even have dozed off, lulled by the warm winter sun but distracted by the cramped position and the fullness of the dildo jammed up my backside.  My brain was playing strange tricks, part of it convincing me that I would somehow wake up soon and it would all be a dream.  I would be back in my bed at Bilboes and there would be a book on my chest where it had dropped when I fell asleep….

*   *   *

I was jerked away by another searing pain across my rump as Bennelli laid into me again with the electrical cord.  Moments later I was screaming into the gag and was well and truly awake.  There was the sensation of the dildo being slowly withdrawn, and the further admonition to keep my cheeks well and truly clenched unless I wanted another flogging.  Sniffling in my darkened world, I had no choice but to do as he commanded, then to sigh with blessed relief as he undid the terrible steel band that had anchored my wrists for the last few hours.  I stretched out slowly in front of me, like a cat, but I was brought back to earth as my nipples were abruptly tugged by the twine tied around them and still attached to my lower thighs.  The pain these caused had of late been superseded by pain from everywhere else.

Bennelli undid the restraints on my ankles and tugged me by the neck chain.  Obediently I swivelled stiffly and grovelled after him on all fours, hating myself as I did so.  We went down a set of steps which I only just negotiated without falling on my muzzle, before we were in the long uncut grass again.  

We had only gone a matter of metres when he halted me and I felt some sort of cuffs being attached to my ankles.  He held me there, then eased me back on my haunches.  I raised my head, trying to work out what was going on.  A pleasant breeze riffled through the grass as I sensed him crouching down beside me.

“I don’t tolerate lazy dogs on my property,” he told me.  “Dogs have to work, and must be adaptable and intelligent, or else they’re shot.”  His words sent a chill down my spine and I could not tell if he was talking metaphorically or applying the rules to me and Mary.  “In order to test your intelligence, you will be required to follow a little maze.  Well, it’s not really a maze.  It’s a single wire, and you will be set astride it, and you will have to make your way to the other end.  Sounds simple, eh, but then you can’t see the wire – you can only feel it.  And feel it you will, since it is connected to a solar generator.  They use it for keeping dogs and cats in the garden.  It won’t kill you, but after few touches you’ll know all about it.”

Oh God, I thought.  This is unbelievable!  What is he going to come up with next?

“And just to make it interesting, since we guys have very sensitive dangly bits, it seems only fair to give you some as well.”  He unlocked the chain around my neck.  Then he was down fiddling about in my pussy, and I felt a sudden sting on my labia as first one side then the other was on the receiving end of some sort of screw clamp or clip.  Moments later there came a further painful bite on each nipple, and I sensed some sort of clamp dangling below each.  He must have given them another turn for the pain went up again, then subsided to a fierce ache.

“All right – back on your hands and knees!”  I did as he said, and sensed the dangling chains from pussy and breasts.  I brushed those parts with my taped-up fist and figured they light chains were perhaps ten centimetres long, unconnected to anything other than the clamps.  

Now he was attaching something to the cuffs on my ankles, and a sharp swat from what felt like a riding crop on my butt persuaded me to crawl forward.  I immediately discovered that some sort of dead weights were chained to my ankles, like a ball and chain on each leg.  They dragged through the grass with a smooth motion, like a small tray or board with some weight on it.  

There were more swats then some on my left shoulder.  I soon figured they were urging me to straighten up.  I moved two metres further then was told to stop.

“All right, Deputy Dawg.   I think I’ll call you that.  Yes, and the other one can be Huckleberry Hound.  The hound and the dawg.  You ain’t nuthin’ but a hound and a dawg!”  He thought this was hilarious and laughed fit to bust, before eventually deciding I was there for a purpose.  “All right, Dawg.  You’re now precisely over the wire – it’s goin’ straight between your legs and arms.  That’s the direction you have to go to get to the other end.  I’m gunna time you and the hound to see who’s slowest.  Whoever’s the slowest gets a good flogging.  Whoever’s fastest… doesn’t.  Oh, and don’t try to stand up and climb off.  Apart from the fact that you’ll probably trip yourself up and fall on the wire, there are other wires around and I’ve also got a big stockwhip here.”  There was an almighty crack from beside me which made me jump.  “Fancy a blind dog taking on a guy with a gun in the middle of a minefield?  That’s what it would be like.  Think about it, Dawg.  Now git!”

There was a sharp swat of the crop on my backside and I began to inch forward.  I didn’t know what was going on.  Then one of the nipple chains must have brushed the wire, for I got a sharp jolt in my right nipple.  I jerked and got a zap into my pussy as one of the chains down there must have contacted when I moved back.  It was unpleasant and I immediately stretched up on to my haunches as best I could, tentatively feeling about with my taped fist.  I found the wire – at the expense of another shock to my arm – about fifteen centimetres above the ground.  It seemed quite substantial – not something easily knocked over.  I wondered how long it was.  It could be five metres or five hundred… Another rush of despair flooded my brain.  It was like getting off one treadmill on to a faster one…

It was all about being in control – any domme worth her salt could recognise the mind games he was playing.  He was pitting me against Mary, with the object being to avoid a flogging.  But he was also pitting me against the clock, and against my own self control.  I suspect he was too tied up in his own vengeance to recognise the subtleties of these, but I knew they were there, and I also knew that the only way I would survive this was to keep control of my own mind.  I was sure he would have harder and sicker tasks for us to undertake, and only by staying focussed would I be able to compete against him.  Now I had to concentrate on my breathing and think past my blindfold, to only deal with one step at a time, to not hurry, but to consider the problem methodically.  The clock really wasn’t an issue when a moment of panic could be a disaster.  A thought occurred to me that while I was suffering this distress, Mary could well be still clamped to the stocks on the verandah, unable to move at all.  I wasn’t sure which might be worse after another hour.

I breathed deeply, picturing in my mind the wire beneath me, and focussing on a single step in a line.  Then another.  How well could I crawl in a straight line?  I managed maybe a metre and a half before I got another shock, this time in my pussy as one of the chains clinked against the wire.  I stretched upward, for I was sure the only reason I had been shocked was because I had slumped too low in my posture.  I arched like a cat and pushed forward.  Another zap, this time on my inner thigh.  I mmphed instinctively, correcting my angle and taking a couple more steps.  

The wire then touched the inside of my left arm.  I corrected again, but it happened twice more, and I realised the wire was curving round to the left.  I followed it painfully, making small grunts of pain whenever some part of me touched.  As I dragged along the weights behind me, which I now decided might be sandbags, I could see why it would not be easy to just stand up and step away from the wire.  For a start, I couldn’t stand up straight  - not without pulling my nipple off.  I couldn’t lift the weights with my taped fists, and I couldn’t see the wire.  I also had no idea what other traps he might have laid for me.

Abruptly I got a jolt to the outside of my right forearm.  Damn!  The wire turned right through ninety degrees and I’d banged right into it.  I tried to be as careful as I could in turning, but without being able to see the wire, I zapped myself twice more.  The shocks were very unnerving and quite painful.  I was starting to hmmm to myself almost in expectation of getting hit.  Then the wire turned to the left and again I was shocked.  I felt like a rat in some bizarre horrific lab experiment.  I couldn’t hear Bennelli, but I was sure he must have been almost wetting himself with amusement at my struggles withy the wire.

A few paces further on, after a short straight stretch, I received another jolt to my labia.  I moaned in frustration and arched myself higher, but again there was a zap to my pussy.  I reached forward tentatively with my fist and discovered – in the usual painful fashion – that the wire was rising up from the ground – or rather, the ground seemed to be descending, while the wire stayed roughly level.  

I was faced with no alternative but to rise into a sort of half-crouch, the strings tugging at my nipples and my back now aching as I staggered forward.  The ground did indeed slope down, and abruptly I found myself in slurpy mud at the bottom of a shallow ditch, or maybe it was a stream.  The high heels of my boots sank into the stuff and I swayed about, trying to keep my balance while dragging the weights on my ankles and trying not to pull my nipples off by standing erect.  In amongst all these difficulties was the damned wire, now giving me brief jolts to the inside of the thighs and occasionally to my pussy as the swinging chains touched it.  I was very unhappy, to say the least, and continued to make grunting noises of exertion, concentration and moral comfort as I slowly inched my way across the ditch.

I only fell once on the opposite side, getting horribly shocked on my breasts and right through my crotch before I could recover.  As best I could, I made considerably more than just grunting noises under the muzzle and hood.  Screams of pain was what they were intended to be, but gagged as thoroughly as I was, they were probably pretty ineffectual protests to an outside listener.  At the top the wire returned to its previous level a few inches above the ground and I paused on all fours to catch my breath and gather my thoughts.  I was rapidly tiring in the sun, and starting to lose my concentration.

The wire swung around to the right, and did several more painful zigzags.  I was seriously beginning to wonder if I had the strength to finish this, for I would not have put it past Bennelli to make the torture course a kilometre long.  Or maybe form it into a closed loop and just leave me there for the afternoon.  When he finally slapped me on my backside I was almost past caring.

“Forty-four minutes and seventeen seconds.  Good Dawg.  You can sit down now.”

Fearful of what might be in store, I felt around with my fist, but I was out of reach of the wire.  A collar was now fastened about my neck.  It was wide to the extent of being a posture collar, and coupled with the hood and muzzle, my head was now totally encased and pretty much immovable.  The collar was tight and uncomfortable, and was attached to a lead of some sort.  This seemed to rise up above me to something.

“You can stay here and explore, while I go and see if your friend can do any better.”

Then I was alone.  I got tentatively to my feet, careful of my tender nipples which remained not only tied with the twine but pinched painfully with the clips and chains.  Not caring what I might have looked like to an onlooker, I waved my arms around me and above me as best I could, encountering some sort of horizontal wire at around normal head height, to which my lead was locked with a padlock.  I was secured on a dog run – a wire that must stretch between two trees and which normally allowed the dog to run along its length while still being tethered by the lead.  

My back was aching from being unable to straighten up for so long, and I got back onto my knees.  It was the least painful position, though far from comfortable.  My taped fingers were cramping and my knees were bruised and scraped from all the crawling I had been doing, but I was still determined to check out my situation while I had the opportunity.  

I assumed from the proximity of the end of the electrical wire to the dog run that I was probably in view of Bennelli, so there would be little I could expect to get away with.  Cautiously I crawled along the wire, still dragging the weights on my ankles, but no longer fearing a sudden shock to my most tender parts.  His time, however, when I’d gone perhaps ten metres, I bumped into something that made a metallic sound.  I sat on my haunches and felt with my taped fists.  It was an old water tank, I reckoned, made out of corrugated iron and turned on its side, with what had been the roof access hole now serving as an entry at ground level.

Cautiously I stuck my head inside the hole and sniffed, not losing the irony of how doglike I had become.  I banged the side of the metal with my fist and listened for movement inside.  I had a nasty picture of snakes and spiders in my head, but there was no sound from the tank, no rustle.  I put my hand inside and encountered what I reckoned were sacks or maybe an old blanket.  This was obviously a makeshift kennel meant for a Dawg and a Hound.

Tempting though it was, I knew I had to check the other end of the dog wire.  It was about twenty metres long, ending where the wire ran around another tree.  I could just reach the wire with my fists, but could not untwist it.  My strength was fading so I took the opportunity to relief myself near the tree, pulling as hard as I could on the lead to get away from what might become a very travelled route between tree and kennel.  Then it was back to the water tank and blessed relief from the sun in the shade inside.  I managed to haul inside the two sandbags that were attached to my ankles, but could not undo them.  I tried to undo the various buckles on my collar and muzzle, but it was futile with my hands taped up the way they were.  At length I gave up and curled up foetally on the sacks, before dozing off in a haze of pain and despair. 

*   *   *

I awoke with a bang that might have been a stick thumped on the side of the tank.  For a moment I had no idea where I was or what was happening.  Awakening in a bondage situation can be totally disorienting, especially when you find yourself blindfolded and gagged.  In my case my entire head and neck was encased in leather and rubber, and as I came to my senses I was acutely aware of the pain from the clips still fastened to my labia and nipples, not to mention the soreness on my back, thighs and buttocks, and a very sensitive feeling in my pussy and arse.  My body was reminding me in no uncertain terms that it had received a very thorough mauling during the day, and it was decidedly unhappy about it.

“C’mon Dawg!  Out!”  There was a tugging on my leash and I was dragged out of the tank in ungainly fashion, having to haul my sandbag weights after me in a tangle of ropes.

“I bet you two are both itching to know who won the test,” said Bennelli from close by.  I had to assume that Mary was also near, and that she too, had now been through the shock torture as well.

“And the loser is…can I have the envelope please… Huckleberry Hound!”

I didn’t know whether to be relieved or upset.  Mary had been slower, and was now dragged along the overhead wire, so I assumed, as Bennelli told me to get my arse along there as well.  I followed meekly, compliantly, all thought of resistance long since gone.  After twenty paces a kick in the arm told me to stop.  I sat on my haunches, fearful of what was to come next.  There were a few indistinct noises then a swishing sound that might have been a thin cane or perhaps a flogger.  There was a sharp crack and I heard Mary’s indistinct, gagged cry.  Another crack, another cry.

I didn’t know exactly where Mary was, but her stifled cries and transmitted vibrations rattling through the wire to my leash told me she couldn’t be too far away.  I crawled about blindly, making plaintive gagged cries of my own, trying to find her by sound location.  Her cries were becoming more and more agonising when I finally bumped into her.  She was on all fours, tugging at the leash, trying to back away from an assailant she couldn’t see.  I hugged her, and received a fierce blow on my arm from a flogger for my troubles.

“Oh, you want some too, Dawg? Happy to oblige!”

From there on the flogger seemed to come from every direction, catching us all over our bodies, as we huddled together helplessly.  It was futile to attempt to evade the blows.  All we could do was protect our more vulnerable parts and limit the agony to our backs and arms, as we kneeled together, our arms wrapped around each other.  Some blows caught us high on the shoulders and curled around our necks and heads, but fortunately the hoods and collars protected us in these instances.  Bennelli alternated between flicking and striking with a full swing, and there was nothing we could do in defence.  The flogger danced over our flesh already bruised and tortured by previous beatings and exposure to the sun.

Finally, as his strength wilted, Bennelli pulled us apart.  Mary was dragged to somewhere nearby where I could still hear Bennelli’s voice.  I didn’t know what was going on and again my tears were soaking in to the soft leather over my eyes.  After a few minutes it was my turn, and after being towed a few metres I was forced to stand up with my feet apart.  He backed me up a pace, and I felt I was being positioned over something that might have been a shaft of some sort.  It was, the head of it being a large solid dildo that he extended up into my pussy.

I gasped and mmphed as he kept on extending it.  I was standing as straight as I could in an effort to accommodate the beast, but the strings were taut on my nipples and the pain was horrendous.  Finally he stopped and must have screwed the extension in place, for I found myself well and truly impaled.  

“Enjoy the rest of your afternoon,” he said smugly and I thought I heard him walk away.

“Mmrree?”  I grunted.

“Mrrrph,” came a grunt from very close.  There was not much more I could say or moan that might have made sense, but it was comforting to know that she was nearby.  She was presumably suffering as I was, and it was going to be a long afternoon.

*   *   *

Such proved to be the case.  I managed to turn myself to face the sun, hoping to take some of the painful heat off my back and the backs of my legs.  It only partly worked, but a short time later clouds must have come over, for the heat became less and the temperature dropped somewhat.  The worst thing about the position was not being able to straighten up, and this seemed to be made worse – or at least more frustrating by the fact that I had my hands free – well, my arms, anyway.  I could support a bit of the weight of my torso by resting my fists on my knees, and managed to make a bit of slack by working the twine up my thighs.  Ultimately this allowed me to straighten a little more, but also caused much pain where the string bit into the flesh of my thighs.  So I bent over once more, only to become more aware of the discomfort of the big dildo jammed up inside me.  

There was no way I could get comfortable, and my strength was seriously being drained.  I was hungry and thirsty, and the afternoon seemed to pass incredibly slowly.  I tried to imagine what we must look like, two naked women hooded and muzzled, bent over and impaled on some sort of adjustable poles.  We must be out in the middle of a field of long grass.  Probably the poles were almost hidden, barely noticeable.  They must have been concreted in to the ground, for there was no way I could tilt mine sideways without doing myself a serious injury.  I wondered if we could even be seen by anybody.  Wherever we were we had only the feel of the breeze for company, trapped here in some remote backwoods valley.

In the course of my squirmings, what was probably inevitable finally happened.  In between trying to orient myself towards the sun, then trying to slide the string up my leg, and then trying to ease the tightness of it by bending over again, certain reactions began to take place in my loins.  Warm fuzzy feelings started to exude, despite the immovable nature of the invader jammed up inside me.  I had found by standing on my tiptoes I could ease the pressure of the tip of the prong, and this I did, several times.  It was probably not unexpected when my juices started to flow, inevitably leading to further squirmings.  Having my arms free was a novelty, and I couldn’t help but thrust my taped fists into my crotch to create some further pressure down there, and suddenly I exploded with a rush.

“Mmmph! Urrhh!  Urgghh!” I grunted into my gag, my breathing abruptly turning into a kind of rapid snuffling pant that turned into a high drawn out wail as I climaxed, not caring who heard me, but in reality doubtful that even a close bystander would hear much.  Involuntarily I tried to straighten, and again my nipples were painfully tugged and tormented by the twine. 

“Mrrff?” said Mary.  Then “Urrrffh!”  by which I assumed she had understood where I had temporarily been.  I wasn’t sure whether her comment was meant to be encouraging or some form of rebuke, to the effect that our situation was serious, and we should be saving our strength.

The problem with that sort of climax is that it is like drinking in the pub.  You can hold off going for a pee for quite a few drinks, but the moment you go the first time, the dam has burst, and you seem to be off every ten minutes.  Climaxing like this and having the big intruder remain in place did nothing to calm me down.  It was getting colder and I was starting to shiver, and it felt like it would be getting dark soon.  Unfortunately this meant nothing to my loins, and ten minutes later I was climaxing again, lifting myself up and down on the pole like one possessed.  Mary made more gagged noises that this time seemed definitely disparaging.

We were finally rescued by Bennelli.  I wondered if he’d been watching – I was sure he had but I was past caring.  I nearly collapsed as he dropped the pole down by whatever clamp mechanism he used.  The big dildo slid out with a wetness that trickled down my inner thighs.  I sank down on to my haunches, so grateful to be able to bend my legs again.

“Go to your kennel, Dawg,” Bennelli said, obviously turning his attention to Mary.  I crawled the length of the overhead wire and bumped into the water tank, still dragging the sandbags behind me.  I was physically and emotionally exhausted, and the evening chill was starting to become uncomfortable.  A cold wind was now blowing and I thought that getting a sweat up while naked in the middle open field could be decidedly bad for one’s health. 

I sensed Mary crawl up beside me and again we embraced, hugging each other tightly, despite the pain from a clash of nipple clamps.  Then Bennelli was there.  

“Ya dinner’s here,” he said, unbuckling first my blindfold and then the muzzle, then unzipping the mouth zipper.  “You’ve got ten minutes.”  He did the same for Mary and sat back on a small stool he’d brought.

It was as I surmised, almost dark.  Even then the light momentarily hurt my eyes after so many hours in darkness.  I focussed and saw two dog dishes in front of me on a patch of flattened grass.  The first held what looked like stew or something, while the second was full of water.

With great difficulty I managed to compress the sponge ball in my mouth and start to squish it out through the mouth opening.  It took a minute and I watched while Mary did the same.  I was appalled by the red welts and black and blue bruising all over her body, overlaying a nasty case of sunburn.  I guessed I would be the same.  I looked down at my own body as the yellow ball popped out of my mouth.  Two steel clamps were screwed to my nipples, a short length of silver chain dangling from each.  They were definitely not devices I fancied trying to pull off.  Similarly my labia were clamped painfully, but again I could not think about how painful they would be to try to pull off by force.

I dipped my face into the water.  It was cool and sweet.  I don’t think I had ever tasted something so good.  Then I tried the stew.  It was cold, and probably had come out of a tin, but I didn’t care.  I got it all over my nose and around my mouth, through the zipper and inside the hood.  Getting my lips past the metal teeth of the zipper was a real problem and I ended up sucking the stuff through pursed lips, rather than trying to lap it up.  Bennelli thought the whole scene terrifically entertaining, and he continued to throw wisecracks and to sneer at our humiliating downfall.

Darkness was falling rapidly and he looked at his watch.

“That’s ten minutes.”  I hadn’t finished either the water or the stew, but he was on me again, stuffing the ball back in my mouth and silencing my pleas for more time.  He splashed some of the remaining water over my mouth so that he could get the zipper closed up, before the muzzle mask went on again.  This time he didn’t bother with the blindfold, and a minute later Mary was similarly secured.  His final present was an inflatable butt plug up the backside again.  It seemed that he wasn’t happy unless one or other of our orifices was filled.

“Can’t have dogs without tails, can we!” he jeered.  

We both sat there on our haunches like two guard dogs, watching as he retraced his steps back to the house about fifty metres away.

Darkness closed in with black clouds scudding in over the mountains.  A change was on the way, and I was glad we would have the shelter of the water tank.  Life was miserable, but at least we were together.

*   *   *

Mary and I huddled together on the blanket in our kennel.  We had again tried to undo the buckles but they were too small and fiddly for our ponderous tape-covered fists.  Sometime during the night it began to rain, pounding on the corrugated iron.  It was like lying in a drum, but we were so tired that it didn’t keep us awake long.  We finally managed to get the blanket around us with much grunting and snuffling, before drifting off to sleep oblivious to the ache in our nipples and labia, and the awful tenderness of our backs and other beaten and sunburnt skin.  At one stage during the night I went out to pee, albeit with difficulty given the plug firmly expanded up my arse that made everything feel full and different.  The rain soothed my burning skin, and Mary joined me for some relief.  Then we got too cold and returned to shiver under the blanket like two lost puppies.

The morning dawned damp and miserable.  There were showers around but it was not actually raining when Bennelli came out to see us.

“Broughtcha some real doggy breakfast,” he said with a malicious grin.  Again he unfastened our muzzles after we had climbed out of the tank and sat on the wet grass.  He tossed a couple of bones on to the ground in front of us.  They were roasted lamb knuckles, but with most of the meat cut off.  Somehow we had to gnaw off what we could, under the handicap of the discipline hood.  

Again we went through the rigmarole of forcing out the sponge balls.  Bennelli watched us for five minutes as we then struggled to get to grips with the problem of how to gnaw on a bone through the zippered hood opening, before another rain shower drifted across, and he decided he would be more comfortable inside and wandered back to the house.

A thought crossed my mind that this might be the chance we had been waiting for. 

“Mary!”  I hissed, as our captor disappeared.  “Get inside!”

I crawled into the tank, dragging the sandbags behind me.  Mary followed.  We both shivered in our nakedness.

“This is our chance – to get the tape off our hands!”  Mary grasped my meaning at once, and we set top with our teeth, tugging and tearing at the silver duct tape that had become creased and seamless over the last twenty four hours.  We couldn’t find the ends, and had to bite and rip it as best we can, but this ultimately proved effective.  My spirits soared as the fingers on my right hand came free, stiff and cramped, but otherwise none the worse for wear.  Five minutes later my left hand was free, and I was able to undo the terrible clamps that had been making my nipples and labia ache.  Then came the twine, finally removed from my legs and nipples, making me groan with pain as the blood returned to those most sensitive extremities.

It took only moments to remove the neck collar and untie the ropes from the ankle cuffs.  The hoods were locked in place, but at least they would keep our heads warm in the cold outside.  The final glorious act was to undo the valves to the inflatable butt plugs and slowly ease them out.

At this point we both looked at each other, for neither of us had thought about what to do next.

“Which way do we go?” I ventured.

“We could go to the house and beat the crap out of him,” Mary suggested, but I had the feeling that even she thought this was dodgy.

“With that shotgun at the ready?  Are you crazy?”  I think Mary was only sounding me out, and simply wanted reassurance that this particular option was not a smart one.

“Then we make a run for it – find a farm house and get help.”

“He’ll come after us.”

“Of course he will.  But we don’t have a choice in the matter.”

“So which way?”

“If we follow the road that means back out through the valley, the way we came in.  I reckon this place is a dead end.”

“It’s farm country that way – not much cover and nowhere to hide, from what I saw last night, looking down the valley,” I said.

“Then we do a big circle.  Up into the hills with the bush cover and double back.”

“He’ll still come after us,” I repeated.

Mary gripped me by the shoulders as the implications of being hunted by a lunatic with a shotgun and nothing to lose suddenly dawned on me.  The cold and hurt of the past day and a half all seemed to catch up with me at once and I started to cry.  I couldn’t explain why – it just happened.  Mary shook me.

“Stop it Trish!  This may be the only chance we get!  If we get caught – assuming he doesn’t kill us there and then – life will be ten times worse!  We don’t have time for tears now – we have to go, quickly!”  She pushed me out of the tank and thrust the old blanket after me.  

Then we were away, naked and running from the psycho with the gun who would surely be intent on silencing us, for there would be no leniency for him should we escape.

*   *   *

07.02.05

story continues in Monica and the Black Fortress

o0o