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From: "Mr. Ed" <thepooch@home.com>
Subject: Pooch's Story Part 6 (Bdsm, S&M, torture, scat, , F/F)
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Over the next few weeks the entire Pooch story, as written  so far, will
be reposted. New cahpters will appear each Saturday.  After chapter 12
is reposted, the new Chapter 13 Pooch's Punishment will be posted.
As always I look forward to any comments that you may wish to email me
at thepooch@home.com
Mr. Ed


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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