Chapter 22: A Learning Process Begins

Jenny slowly came round, her eyes tightly closed against the bright light that surrounded her. A headache of epic proportions was accosting her brain while her throat was sorer than she had ever known it. Dimly, she began to realise that she was laying face down on a cold, concrete floor and that her hands had been restrained behind her by some method; a coldness in the small of her back hinted at the use of handcuffs. Wherever this place was, Jenny thought that it smelt foul. Then her sight began to dim again and she slipped back into a healing slumber...

Some indeterminable time later, Jenny's senses started to return again. This time she managed to open her eyes and, after struggling to her knees and blinking for several minutes, those orbs started to focus on the bare walls of what was now perceived clearly as a small cell. There wasn't a stick of furniture in the place, though it was dry and the temperature pleasantly warm. A solid metal door was set into one wall and a camera mounted high up in a corner. The floor sloped gently towards a large drain cover sunk into the centre of the floor and, above her, Jenny could see that an array of pipes was attached to the high ceiling. Several men with little hammers were still busy in Jenny's head though, she suspected, some of their colleagues had either gone home or were having a tea break since the pain was now bearable, at least. As for her throat, it was still sore and, more to the point, very dry. The smell remained all pervasive and it didn't take Jenny long to figure out that it came from her for the latex pants she still wore bulged out like a badly inflated balloon while small trickles of urine made their way slowly though the gussets and down her legs before dribbling across the floor towards the drain. Some more solid material remained trapped between her buttocks and the black rubber of the knickers. Jenny tried to stand, failed, and ended up sitting back down rather sharply, her own shit being squashed flatter and wider within its latex prison. Jenny rolled her eyes in disgust...

An hour or two later (it was hard for Jenny to judge the passage of time incarcerated as she was) the door opened and a male slave entered the cell; he stood at least six and a half feet in height and had a massive frame with impressive muscles to match. His skin was the colour of pitch and it shone beneath a sheen of oil that had been massaged all over him. Not a single hair showed anywhere upon his magnificent body. Unbidden, Jenny's eyes travelled down and settled upon the man's groin. Jenny gasped, her eyes opening wide for the giant's penis must have been at least seventeen inches long with the entire organ, apart from the glands at the tip, being wrapped in thin silver-coloured metal wire. Jenny vaguely recalled having seen a documentary program once about a tribe from Africa that thought that the length of a woman's neck was proportional to her desirability and, clearly, the same principle of stretching utilised by that tribe had been applied here. Jenny seriously doubted that the man could ever get a true hard-on for the wire would never allow it though, from the way the organ swayed without flexing, the metal held him stiff enough to pleasure a woman easily. The thought crossed her mind that sex with this black mountain of muscle would be wonderful for the woman, agony for him. Regrettably, Jenny realised that she couldn't expect an answer to this question even if she dared ask it for the man's mouth was filled with a ball-gag lashed into place by a leather thong that circled his head and was locked in place by a small padlock that connected it to his black slave-collar at the base of his neck. Just above the man's right nipple, in white ink, was tattooed the name, Wee-Wee. "Somebody's got a perverted sense of humour," Jenny muttered to herself.

Wrinkling his nose against the odour, Wee-Wee motioned with one finger for Jenny to turn round and, once she had done that, the man used a small key to release the handcuffs that had been restraining Jenny... who promptly took the opportunity to start to massage her aching wrists. Wee-Wee took a step back towards the door and indicated to Jenny that she should pull off her pants. Before she could even begin the action, Wee-Wee stepped quickly through the door, slamming it closed behind him.

"Guess I can't blame him for making a speedy exit," Jenny thought to herself before gingerly hooking her thumbs into the waistband of the knickers. With only a sudden gurgle to warn her, freezing cold water poured from the pipes above her, drenching her in seconds. Jenny's body immediately started to shiver and it was a minute or so before she remembered the instructions she had been given. Again, the latex proved to be rather 'sticky' and hard to move over her skin, but she managed it in the end so that it wasn't long before all the crap was washed down the drain in the floor. By now Jenny had realised that the water was just that - pure, cold water and so she tilted her head back and opened her mouth, allowing the refreshing liquid to pour in, lubricating her throat and quenching her thirst. As suddenly as it had begun, the cascade ceased.

Jenny looked about her and waited for something else to happen - it didn't. It began to dawn on her that life as a slave was a little like life as a soldier - everything either at the double or at ease with nothing in between. As time passed, the warmth of the room began to dry Jenny out, her hair proving to be a problem lacking, as she was, any comb or brush.

The waiting went on and on. An overweight and middle-aged female slave brought in some thin gruel, bread and water and left without saying a word or even acknowledging Jenny's presence in the room. After eating the rather bland fare, Jenny curled herself into a ball and started to doze...

She was awoken by the sound of the door being flung open and, before she could even collect her thoughts, a boot landed heavily in her back, just over one of her kidneys. A voice she was beginning to know well shouted at her to wake up and to position herself on all four facing the door. Fearing more punishment, Jenny hurried to obey and immediately had her suspicions confirmed for, standing before her was Bernard, the chauffeur. The man turned and after whispering briefly to someone stationed outside the cell, he shut the door. Bernard then removed his jacket and tie, hanging them on a rusty old nail that protruded from the wall. He then crouched down before Jenny and took her chin in his hand. Looking deeply into her eyes, he started to speak. "I've been making a few enquires about you, young Miss Panties. I get the distinct impression that you don't like men much. Not to suggest that you're a lesbian, 'cos I don't think that you are. You just don't like sex much, do you? You don't like being used. Well, tough shit, this isn't the sort of place that you'll like. Here you'll be fucked and tortured and tormented and used and abused several times a day... and photographed doing it for later publication or broadcast. Better get used to it. Now, I think that we had some uncompleted business to attend to, don't we?"