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From: edwardt@interlog.com (Mr. Ed)
Subject: Pooch's Story Part 6 (BnD, SM, Slave F/F)
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This is my first effort at fantasy literature. Constructive criticism
and story ideas are welcome and encouraged . The story is bondage and
discipline based. If this is not your cup of tea  please read no
further 


The New Order

The only sound heard in the darkness was the occasional creak of the
wooden beam that bore the weight of a Pooch suspended between life and
death. The events of the past few hours had changed her life forever.
Obedience that had come, deep down, from the love of her master had
been replaced with obedience that came from the fear of the
consequences of disobedience. The part of her heart that had been
filled with love and contentment was now vacant. Where there had been
trust that her master would never go to far because he loved her now
she was in the hands of people that were not even sure that she should
be kept alive. This part of her heart was now also taken over with
fear. The last vestiges of human dignity had been cruelly stripped
from her. The men and women now deciding her fate had found pleasure
in watching her beg for her life through the performance of the most
degrading acts imaginable. She had been told, in no uncertain terms
that in the hierarchy of life her status was somewhere below that of
an animal. The friendships she had made with the people at work were
over. She would never see them again. Instead she would see only
people that enjoyed hurting her with no love as compensation. In every
picture, that her imagination conjured up of the future, she was
crying and there was no one to wipe away the tears.   Ed would have
never left Pooch alone hanging by her wrists for such a long time.
The feeling in her hands was just about gone replaced by ever
increasing pain in the shoulders.

All the salt in the urine she had consumed dehydrated her body
creating a tremendous thirst. Her bladder was now filled to
overflowing  and she was just too weak to hold back the stream that
found its way down her legs. Pooch winced as some of the pee wet her
raw pussy stinging the torn up flesh. She knew Marla would be pleased.
Upstairs  the conversation centered around experiences with other
slaves, methods of disciple, levels to which slaves had been pushed
and other fun things. The decision that Pooch had great potential as a
slave in a fully non consentual bondage situation had been made even
before all her tasks had been completed.   Everyone thought that she
had shown tremendous self control when confronting physical pain. She
had shown creativity in her own debasement when servicing the four
men.  When driven to the psychological breaking point by Greta she was
quickly able to reconstruct an altered personality that allowed  her
to continue and even be stronger. The control she showed over her own
body, after being tortured and debased to the point of exhaustion,
when forced into being a human toilet, impressed  everybody. If Marla
was looking for a slave that could be pushed to the limits of human
tolerance she had found  one. Pooch could be taken past her breaking
point and then, like the Phoenix, rise from her own ashes. Marla
thought to herself that what a fool Ed had been to posses this
creature for ten years and barely scratch the surface of her
subservience. Marla was determined to squeeze the last ounce of blood
out of her. It would be so much fun.  Marla was in no hurry to let
Pooch of the hook. She knew that her tortured toy must be in both
physical, and more importantly, mental anguish. Marla imagined that
the lingering passage of time in the solitary blackness of the
playroom would be playing on her mind making her feel that the jurors
were having a difficult time determining her fate and that the
possibility of a very painful and slow death was very real. It was
nearly five in the morning when Pooch was led back into the makeshift
courtroom, clasped in irons, and instructed to kneel before Marla. All
was quiet.   Pooch's heart could be seen to be pounding in  her chest
from twenty feet away. She remembered every mistake she had made, her
blackout. Had she shown enough enthusiasm?  "O God", she thought,
"there were all sorts of reasons for which they could fail her".
Marla broke the silence.  "I know the jury's decision and have
listened to their recommendations. They really have a lot of
experience in these maters. I can assure you that this is not a
decision that was made easily". Marla knew that this phrasing would
make Pooch feel doomed.   "After long deliberation the decision of the
jury is that despite the disobedience, lying and totally
unsatisfactory performance in the past you show sufficient promise to
allow you to continue living as a slave".   O God thank you, Pooch
thought to herself. She was momentarily elated.  Marla continued.
"Before you start celebrating I suggest you pay close attention to the
rest of what I have to say.  Your behavior when serving Ed was
disgraceful. You virtually mocked his authority over you and you will
be punished severely for that. You have shown that you cannot be
trusted when not watched so I will be instituting measures that will
keep you under surveillance at all times. You will also be under some
form of restraint at all times and you will not be allowed off this
property except for reasons of extreme necessity at which time you
will be securely bound. One of those times will be when you visit
Steve's surgical clinic for extensive physical modifications.  When no
one is here to watch you, you will be confined to the pit. That's the
punishment you earned for your past misbehavior. As you know I work as
a lawyer. My job revolves around laws and rules. I have an affinity
for them. During the next couple of days I will produce a preliminary
set of rules which you will learn by heart. With time new rules will
be added. You will live by those rules. Any violation will be
punished. You will be asked to confess any violations which have not
beam caught by someone else on a daily basis. Remember that you will
be under constant surveillance. If you lie during confession the
punishment will be tripled. I will not tolerate a lying slave. You are
not a part of this family. You do not eat with us, you do not sleep
with us, you do not share our affection. You are simply my property.
To help you remember that you are a thing and not a person you will
refer to yourself in the third person from now on. Do you understand
what I mean"?  "Pooch understands mistress", she answered in the
correct manner.  "Remember you are here to serve. Don't expect any
reward for perfect service because that is the minimum that I expect
from you. However you should expect severe sanctions for imperfect
service. I have a great imagination and my imagination is not going to
be your friend. Since you will not be leaving this property any more
you have no need for clothing. Gather up every stitch of cloths that
you have and put them in the cardboard box that you'll find in the
kitchen. They will be given to the needy. You will go naked at all
times, except for maybe some specialty items I might get for you in
the future. Now go".  Pooch hurried as best she could considering her
ankles, wrists, and waist were connected by chains. She wondered if
this was what Marla meant when she had said that Pooch would always be
in restraints. Being chained made everything slower and more
difficult. The chains  were heavy and tiring. They made reaching above
the waist very difficult. She would have to rush around looking for
things to stand on so that she could reach a hanger in the closet or a
candle in the middle of a kitchen table. Pooch also had to keep the
chains from touching anything and making scratches and noise. Since
her ankles were hobbled Pooch could only make quarter steps so it
would take four times longer to get anywhere. In order to accomplish
anything  in a reasonable time she had to run so in no time at all her
shins would be bleeding  from the constant abrasion against the Coarse
edges of the rusted manacles. The constant rubbing of the rough iron
on an open wound leads to tremendous pain that only gets worse as the
wound is cut deeper. This is the type of maddening pain that she would
have to endure. The worst part about this pain was that to the
outsider it looks like something very minor and she is not allowed to
either do something to stop the cutting or let it effect her
performance. Her legs have to be kept spread when walking and standing
so that the chain doesn't drag on the floor.  She is expected to move
just as fast as she could before being cut. When you are in manacles
you walk as little as possible. Manacles are considered light
restraint here.   Pooch knew where everything was so she didn't have
to search for anything. When she returned with a half full box and
Marla had asked if that was all?, Pooch answered that it was
everything. She really hadn't had much clothing anyway. Marla asked
her if she was sure? Now Pooch knew that she had been trapped.
"Marla  knows about something I missed and now she is going to get me
for lying and failing to complete my assignment", thought Pooch, "and
I have been serving her for less than fifteen minutes. My ass is
really cooked", she thought.   "Why aren't you kneeling?", Marla
asked.  Pooch thought about how she should answer. Should she state
the truth and say that it was because she didn't know she was supposed
to kneel now and sound argumentative. Or should she just apologize for
forgetting and take what would probably be a minor punishment?  Before
she could make up her mind what to say Marla half shouted "too late"!
"What the hell are you doing?. Making up some lies?, Maybe I should
come back in an hour? Marla hissed.  "When I ask a question I expect
to get an answer as soon as my lips stop moving. DO YOU
UNDERSTAND!!!!!!!!!", Marla screamed loud enough for everyone within a
block to hear. "Go downstairs and bring up the Singapore cane. You
know, the two handed one sitting in the brine bucket. I noticed your
rear end has been barely touched so I'm going to do something about
it".  Pooch was terrified. It wasn't so much the prospect of being
caned, rather it was Marla's severity and ability to find fault with
her every action. She had to believe that the discipline Marla would
administer would be as harsh as her attitude and between her ability
to find fault and her eagerness to punish, Pooch would be living in a
perpetual hell.   As Pooch hurried to fetch the cane the magnitude of
Marla's other pronouncements began to sink in. Ed had put her in the
pit only once. It was a couple of days that she would never forget..
Ed thought the pit would be a good place to leave Pooch while he
entertained a girlfriend upstairs. it was totally sound proof so Pooch
could not signal her existence to anybody. She would be out of his way
the whole weekend. Feeling a bit cruel Ed made Pooch jump down into
the pit Friday morning before leaving for work instead of after
returning, even though he would have been home hours before his
girlfriend got there.  Pooch heard Ed push the lid bolts into the
holes in the concrete walls. That was the last sound from the outside
world that Pooch would hear for the next 68 hours. Because the pit was
so narrow she scraped her knees, elbows, shoulders, nose and forehead
against the cement walls.  There wasn't enough room to sit down. The
best Pooch could do was lean back against one wall with her ass
against it and then slide down until her knees wedged  against the
opposite wall. This got very uncomfortable after only a few hours. The
air became grimy from being breathed in and out repeatedly. The bad
air, quiet, and physical exhaustion made Pooch want to just lie down
and sleep but she couldn't. Her body soon began to ache. First it was
her back, because the position she was in kept it arched almost all
the time. Then her knees and hips started to hurt from the pressure of
being wedged against opposite walls. Time passes so slowly in such a
place. You can't sleep. You have no clues to help you gauge time.
After only thirty hours Pooch thought she had been in the pit for a
week and Ed had abandoned her to die there. She was literally in her
grave. A total panic began to engulf her. It was a panic that haunted
her for the remaining thirty-eight hours that she would be in the pit.
As the pit stayed closed her mind told her that the longer the door
stayed shut the less chance there was that it would ever open. She
started to do crazy things like start spinning around hoping that she
could make herself so dizzy that she would pass out, surely when she
recovered this would all be behind her. It didn't work. It only made
her hotter, wasted the air and made her more tired. Then she thought
that she could use up all the air be continually jumping up and down.
She would use up the air faster than any fresh air got through the
cracks and pass out or die. Right then she would have welcomed either
one. She was sufficiently used to far worse pain to ignore the hunger
but there was no way to ignore the thirst. Pooch was so dry it hurt to
breath. Her eyelids stuck to her eyeballs. She hadn't succeeded in
using up all the air but she had lost a lot of water. When Ed opened
the pit on Monday Pooch was rolling her head around on her shoulders.
Her eyes seemed to be taped open. She didn't have the strength to
raise her arms so that Ed could lift her out.  Ed never put her back
in.   What body modifications did Marla have in mind? Would she tell
her before they were done? Pooch was afraid of being irreversibly
mutilated.  Back in the living room Marla mentioned to Greta how she
had noticed that Pooch had fallen for her.  "You understand that I
intend to totally smash Pooch's ego and I don't think it's helpful
that she have any warm and fuzzy feelings towards anybody. I want her
empty of any comforting thoughts".  "I think that I can change her
attitude pretty quickly", responded Greta. "Would you let me apply the
cane?   I'm sure I can make her never want to see me again".  "Sure
you can. I always like to learn from the best and from what I've been
told you are the best".  "You're making me blush", answered Greta. "If
you notice the way I operate the most important thing is to always
keep the slave off balance. If she doesn't know what to expect then
she can't prepare herself and her own imagination becomes her worst
enemy. Her own imagination will turn the edge of a ribbon running
across her back into the blade of a knife cutting her apart. Just
think of what her imagination can do if you really are cutting her
apart".   Everybody laughed.  Pooch returned with the cane and
promptly kneeled before Marla. She had heard the laughter. It made her
feel even more uncomfortable.  "Bring the cane to your girlfriend
Pooch", Marla said in a soft voice.  "We all saw how your mouth made
love to her turds. You could hardly wait for the next mouthful".
Again everybody laughed as Pooch turned crimson.   "Look everyone
she's blushing. Isn't that just so cute".  Pooch was deeply humiliated
by the comments made while bringing the cane over to Greta.   "Love
hurts" "You always hurt the one you love".  She knelt before Greta's
perfect legs, holding out the cane for her to take, careful to keep
her eyes cast down to Greta's feet.  Ed removed the chains.  "Nice
cane", Greta commented To Marla. "It's got a nice heft and yet it's
still springy. Where did you get it"?  "At Maxis Leather shop over on
Charles Street. They only carry the best", answered Marla.  "Has this
been used on her before?", asked Greta.  "Not yet. Ed and I thought we
would hold on for a special occasion".  "This is her first disciple
session since you became her owner, it is a special occasion. You know
Marla maybe you should do this I don't feel right".  "Don't worry
about it. I'll have plenty of opportunities with her", answered Marla.
I'm just going to sit back and watch a professional".  "Thanks, I'll
try not to disappoint you".  "O, I'm sure you won't". Marla went on,
"Pooch would have received five strokes for her delay in answering me
but since she spent that time thinking about a lie to tell me she will
get fifteen. I am determined to cure her of this problem that she seem
to have. The sooner she is cured the better off she will be. You will
do what Greta tells you to and when she's finished I expect you to
thank her for disciplining you".  Pooch was just mortified about how
they talked about her and her punishment as if she wasn't there.
"Take my shoes of dear", Greta said, "and I really enjoy getting my
feet kissed when they come off.   Remember that if you serve me in the
future. You know that you just can't get a good swing when you're
balancing on high heels".  Gently each shoe was removed and set aside.
As the shoes came off each nylon clad foot received a sincere, slow
kiss. Pooch was still mesmerized by this woman, She just didn't
understand why.  Greta stood up from her seat beside Shandra. She
adjusted her tight skirt.  "Would you kneel here on the cushion that I
was just sitting on, your knees and thighs against the seat back and
your waist over the top of the seat back. Good. Now spread your knees
a little bit, about a foot, but keep your feet together. I don't think
it's right for a slave to have her knees together even if her pussy
isn't a target.  That's good, now bend right over the back rest and
try to touch the floor with your fingers.  SWICCHHH, the cane sung in
the hands of the professional and crashed without any warning with a
sickening TWAK!, not across the slaves posterior but across the arches
of both her feet, that had lain perfectly positioned on the front edge
of the seat cushion. It had been a two handed stroke delivered with
perfect accuracy. The quickness had made everyone in the room flinch
in surprise.  Pooch let out a horrific scream. Her arms began to reach
back instinctively, to grab her smashed feet, when the cane screamed
again painting a stripe across both Pooch's shoulders setting them
ablaze in white heat.   The blow knocked her back down into position,
stunning  the slave and causing her mind to loose every thought,
except for the pain. Even her voice was silenced. The stroke of the
cane across her shoulders, had inflicted deep muscle bruising in both
shoulders. The skin immediately went purple from bleeding in the large
muscles. When she tried to pull back her shoulders the whole area
between the shoulder blades erupted into a blaze of pain that was well
above what she could stand. Her mind went into overload. Her feet felt
as though they had doubled in size. They throbbed with every beat of
her heart and she just couldn't let anything touch them again.   "I
didn't say you could move", Greta lectured in a cold steady voice.
"How do you think this works? I hit you and you go cover up? I think
you know better then that. You're really lucky that I was able to stop
you before you were able to touch your feet or I am sure your owner
would have called for a lot of extra strokes".  "You know that Greta
is right", added Marla. "If you would have touched your feet I would
have ordered twenty more. It's very important that you learn self
discipline. We won't count that stroke across the shoulders since it
was a preventative measure. I think you should thank Greta for her
quick action".  "Thank you very much for stopping Pooch from doing a
bad thing mistress Greta", Pooch whimpered in a trembling voice.
"It's the least that I could do for someone who loves my shit so
much", Greta answered back. You do love to eat my shit don't you"?
"Yes mistress Greta". Pooch's feelings of humiliation kept escalating
to new levels.  "Do you love to drink my pee too"?  "Yes mistress
Greta".  "Do you love to eat everybody's shit and piss or just mine."
The nightmare for Pooch kept getting more and more terrifying. She was
trapped again not knowing how to answer this question. She had learned
to answer right away. Pooch chose the truth this time.  "Pooch just
loves your shit and piss mistress Greta".   "That's not good", said
Greta. "A slave should love the gifts that come from any of her
masters. I  think your new owner will be looking into correcting this
attitude problem of yours. Come over and take off my skirt. If I would
have known that I would be so active tonight I would have worn looser
fitting clothing.   This tight skirt of mine is still keeping me from
getting a good stroke and we don't want to short change you on your
correction now do we"?  It had taken only two strokes of the Singapore
cane to nearly cripple Pooch. Her arms hung limp from her shoulders
while the pain in her feet showed no signs of subsiding. She
straightened her back and proceeded to slide her knees of the front of
the sofa careful to stay off her feet.  Greta changed her tone from
one that had shown some compassion to one of loud, heartless, anger.
"On your feet you pathetic shit lover!! If your looking for sympathy
you won't get any from me!!  YOU MAKE ME SICK!!! If I thought that you
wouldn't love eating it so much I'd puke right now.   Pooch tried to
put some weight on her feet only to fell them pierced by a hundred
needles. She gasped from the pain but knew she had better obey. With
tortured steps she made her way around to the back of the love seat
were Greta was standing. Careful not to move her shoulders she undid
the snap and zipper of Greta's skirt and pulled it down revealing
Greta's hairy snatch. Greta steeped out of the skirt, Pooch folded it
and laid it down on the coffee table.   "You really stink", taunted
Greta. Did you piss yourself when you were downstairs"?  "Yes mistress
Greta". Pooch was now bawling like a baby. It was one thing to handle
the physical abuse but this constant humiliation was too much to bare.
"That's just another thing that I will have to deal with tomorrow",
said Marla.  "I think that in that case you better not go back on the
couch.  Somebody spread some newspaper on the coffee table". Greta
asked.  "I want you on all fours on the newspaper, knees apart and
feet together hanging over the edge of the table like you were when
you were on the couch.  Got that"?  "Yes mistress Greta".  "Can
anybody else smell this old used up scum bag or is it just me?, asked
Greta.  A volley of disparaging comments followed the weary slave on
her way to the table. She walked to the table carefully and slowly.
She knew that kneeling doggy style would force back her shoulders to
the position in which they were in the most pain. Her feet had swollen
a lot though not double. She did not look forward to getting at least
fourteen more strokes of the cane from this mad woman. To Pooch, Greta
now seemed to be out of her mind. There was just no way to figure out
what she would be doing next, or what her demeanor would be.   Pooch
began to think that her sentence of slavery for life was a fraud. She
began to think that they had really decided to kill her and weren't
telling her in order to make it easier to keep her under control. In a
way she was now cooperating in her own death. She was doing it because
not cooperating would make things even worse. Pooch believed more and
more that she only had a short time to live. The fear of death that
griped her mind held her more tightly than the thought of the fourteen
remaining strokes. She was a weird one. She was more afraid of dying
than anything else. The fear was so strong that right now at this
moment of agony she would choose eternal, non stop, foot canning over
death.   As the strokes were laid on Pooch would begin to reconsider.
Greta was going to apply the cane over Pooch's  rear end starting at
the line between the tips of the pelvic bone down to the backs of her
knees. She would work her way down trying to get all the lines
parallel to each other. Crossing lines led to a lot of bleeding with
no additional pain. With the force that Greta would get out of each
stroke there would be bleeding even without cross strokes. She had to
remember to cut the force on the stroke to the back of the knees or
Pooch wouldn't be able to stand for a month, if ever.   She swung the
cane like a home run hitter in baseball going for the wall. It was a
long swing, the batter stepping into the ball or in this case, the
slaves ass. It was the only area Greta could really abuse without
permanently damaging, and even on Pooch's ass the damage would be
substantial.  When Pooch heard the whistle of the cane she had no idea
where it would land. She tensed her whole body, She heard the slap of
the rattan cane as it connected in a line across the tops of her hips.
It sent the maximum pain message possible racing up her spine. It
didn't matter where the cane came down, the effect would be nearly the
same.   For any one of the lashes Pooch received that early morning a
normal person would have run wailing to the nearest hospital emergency
room. Pooch had to take thirteen more and not move at all, and after
they were finished they would probably humiliate her some more. Was it
possible to humiliate her more, she thought?   They would then deposit
her in the pit where she would go insane and die, because, she
fantasized,  they had no intention of letting her out again.   Pooch's
fear of the pit was almost as great as her fear of death since in her
mind the one relentlessly led to the other. Like the cruelest of jokes
this terror kept a large part of her mind from being occupied with the
pain of the canning and helped her get through it.   There was also
the very, very small part of her mind, a part that she was not even
conscious of, that watched Greta perform with all the grace and skill
of a magnificent athlete.  The image of the tall Amazon straining to
get the most out of every muscle  and maximize every brutal stroke,
naked from the waist down except for her black hose, was wildly
erotic.   This first stroke across the uppermost boundary of what
would be considered her ass bit into flesh that was not heavily
padded. The force, instead of being absorbed by fat and muscle, was
absorbed by tendon and bone. The first sensation was not unlike an
electrical shock followed by a duller pain that started high and kept
on building. When she reflexively clenched her buttocks the pain
turned dagger like. There was no scream, as might have been expected
only a grunt that like the clenching was reflexive. Pooch's voice was
now almost gone anyway as was nearly all her strength. The best she
could do was to start to tremble. Her sobbing was continuous.  Greta
was in no rush to take the next swing. Experience told her that a cane
such as the one she was using created a pain curve that kept
increasing for more than a minute. She would make sure that every one
would be felt to the maximum. Instead she would use the time to talk
to her victim.   "So that's the second time tonight that you pissed
yourself and you shit yourself too. At your age I would think that you
would be toilet trained. Do you think that you were adequately toilet
trained as a child?  "Yes mistress".  "Well if it's not your toilet
training, then what could it be? Have you been getting too much to
drink"?  "No mistress", answered a parched Pooch.  "You now I have a
pet dog and she would sometimes go in the house as a sign of defiance.
Are you being defiant Pooch"?  Before Pooch could respond the next
lash struck home eliciting the reflexive gasp and clench. This time
there was more meat though it still was not very deep. The muscle was
severely crushed between the cane on top and bone beneath. The skin
broke in many spots along the cane line, going purple in just seconds.
droplets of dark blood oozed out of the tiny breaks.  After just two
strokes on her ass the  large muscles of her buttocks were rendered
useless. Any tightening brought on those daggers of pain. Twelve to
go.  "Well answer me cunt. Are you being defiant"?  "No mistress",
Pooch whimpered barely audibly.  "It must be old age then. You've
become incontinent. I guess your mistress is going to have to keep you
in diapers. Do you think that could be the solution dear? Do you need
to wear diapers?  "No mistress". Pooch had to struggle to get out the
words, Her breathing was labored.  "I'm at a loss then. You say you've
been toilet trained. You haven't been drinking too much. You haven't
been defiant and you aren't incontinent. The only thing I can think of
then is that you have no self control".  Greta paused to let the pain
build. "That has to be it. You have no self control".   And the cane
whistled through the air again this time digging into much more fleshy
ass meat just above the level of her anus.  This time the extra
cushioning kept the skin from breaking though the welt and color
change was still almost instantaneous. Greta stood back to admire her
handiwork. Each stripe stood at least a quarter inch high above the
surrounding skin. The coloring followed every nook and cranny of the
cane, presenting almost a photographic image of the instrument on her
skin.  The lines were indeed parallel to each other and evenly spaced.
Swelling of Pooch's posterior had begun.  "Self control can be taught
you know. All that you have to do is impress upon the subject the
consequences of the lack of self control", Greta went on. "I'm really
quite a good teacher. Would you like me to teach you"?   Why  was she
being tormented like this, Pooch thought. Why didn't Greta just finish
the whipping and  leave her to her suffering? Her rear end was ablaze
and she knew the fire would only spread. She also knew that there was
no escape, she might get more than the number stated but there was no
chance she would get less.  "No mistress", Pooch managed to whisper.
"You at least didn't lie. Maybe you are capable of learning", Greta
went on. "Too bad for you that you don't get a choice in the matter.
You don't seem very talkative".  Once again a shock raced up her spine
as the cane left a fourth line right across the two outcroppings of
her pelvic bone that formed her seat and her anus. Pooch actually saw
a flash of light just before feeling the fresh jolt of pain. She now
depended exclusively on her arms to maintain her position. She no
longer controlled her legs. Her buttocks twitched in a random pattern
as injured nerves fired beyond her control.  Pooch stopped breathing
as she tried to hold her self together.  "Now if you hadn't thought
about fibbing to your mistress the punishment would now be over.
Instead you now have to pay the price for your deceitfulness. You will
learn that it is always better to be honest and take your medicine
than try to hide something from your mistress. You can't blame anyone
but yourself for the rest of this session".  The next two strokes also
caught part of the slaves pussy lips which protruded between the two
globes that made up her ass. Breathing was now made up of irregular
gasps.   "Move your knees together for the rest of your punishment",
Greta ordered.  Agonizingly Pooch used the muscles of her inner thighs
to obey. Both globes were now enveloped in a fire that felt even more
intense than her breasts had felt from the red hot needles.  Greta was
now going to work on her thighs. Right after another surprise blow to
the soles of her feet.  Again the cane landed on Pooch's insteps a bit
closer to her heels. It would be a week at the very least before she
would be able to put any weight on them and even then they would hurt
like hell.  Seven lines striped the back of Pooch's thighs when Greta
finally finished. Pooch was aware that Greta had been talking to her
almost continually but her mind had stopped registering the words. She
was aware that when her whipping was over everybody was clapping and
shouting things like "Bravo" and "well done".   Pooch reasoned that
Greta was being congratulated for coming so close to killing her
without actually doing the deed. She didn't want to see how she looked
back there imagining that there was only torn flesh loosely covering
bare bone left. The whole area from the top of her hips to the back of
her knees was on fire and the fire showed no sign of cooling down.
Worst of all she was so profoundly alone. She didn't have a single
friend in the whole world. She needed a friend so badly, somebody that
would hold her and tell her everything would be all right, somebody
that would take care of her, comfort her and bind her wounds. There
was no one. Everybody around her just wanted to hurt her and humiliate
her. The one that she had reached out to for some compassion had now
hurt her the worst. Greta placed the end of the cane in front of
Pooch's lips. She remembered what she had to do and kissed the end of
the cane.  "Thank you mistress Greta for punishing Pooch for being a
bad slave and thinking about lying to Pooch's mistress. Pooch is sorry
for causing you so much trouble. She won't do it again". She then hung
her head and continued sobbing, her body still trembling.  Greta then
lifted her right leg placed it on the slaves ribs and pushed her over
onto her side. She then leaned  over, lips approaching Pooch's face
and spit. She was followed by everyone else in the room except Ed.
"Throw her in the pit", ordered Marla. 
  



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