Chapter 5

Jane stared helplessly at the side of her cage, its metal bars and the cloth draped over it. She was packed too tightly to move, and her whole body ached. She would have given anything just to be able to lie down on the floor outside, but she had nothing to give anyway.

Whatever kind of vehicle she was in, some kid of van or lorry, it had been moving fast for what seemed like forever, violently jerking her around with each turn and change in speed. There were no voices here, just the deafening sound of the engine.

The roaring eased into a low rumbling as it had at every traffic light so far, but this time was different. After a few seconds, it finally turned off, silence returning to her at last.

She fought the urge to shout. It was highly unlikely that the driver or his assisant would have forgotten about their cargo, however much they might have got a kick out of her imagining otherwise. With slavery legalised again, there was no point crying for help either. No one would dare come to her rescue even if they wanted to. At best, such an attempt would get any wannabe hero a stern talking to, and at worst, he would end up a slave himself. So people played it safe, and Jane ruled out that line of possible escape.

She listened carefully. Eventaully, she could make out the rattling of keys, shortly followed by the opening of the lorry's back padlock and the almost deafening noise of the whole back section rolling up overhead. At last she could hear her captors talking again.

She could feel her cage being let loose of the taut straps that had held it in place during the journey, then lifted up by the two men and lowered onto the road. She just barely managed to lift her head up off the cage's damp metal floor in time to avoid taking the brunt of the impact.

She let out an involuntary whimper as the two men hoisted the cage again.

"Shut up," said one of them, as if talking to a pet dog that couldn't stop barking.

Jane tried her best to keep quiet, but she started sobbing uncontrollably again, the tears running down her cheeks and joining the puddle of hosewater on the cage's floor.

The men put her down again and rang the doorbell. After a short while, another man answered.

"So this is the package," she heard him say. His voice was all nasal and pinched. She didn't recognise it.

"Sign here, please," said one of the other men. Then there was a brief silence. "Have a good day, sir."

She heard footsteps walking away, back to the van or lorry or whatever it was, then the doors opening and closing. Another momentary silence. Her cheeks were wet and cold. For that matter, the lower half of her body, which at the moment was her feet, shins, and face, were all wet. Her whole body was cold, and ached, and she just wanted to go home and make herself a hot cocoa and have a bath.

The engine started.

Jane tried to convince herself that it was all some elaborate practical joke, that any minute now one of her friends woud turn out to be right next to her, one of her cute guy friends who gave her tips when she was practicing going down on mannequins on weekends that suddenly seemed so distant now. Even the guy she'd gone to in order to try to remove her belt. Anyone.

She just wanted to be hoisted inside the house, for the cloth draped over the cage to be pulled off, and for her friends to exclaim "Surprise!" At this point, she wouldn't even mind. She'd forgive them. She just wanted it to be over.

She heard the other man struggling as he tried to lift the cage.

"Jesus Christ, what've they got in here?" he asked. The cage's cover was lifted back, and crouching down to look at her was a middle-aged man with a goatee.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. Not disapproving, nor excited, just taken aback. Whoever he was, he seemed genuinely surprised, as if ordering a real live slavegirl had slipped his mind. He looked around the street, then dropped the cover again.

Maybe he'd bought her online while he was drunk, she realised. How embarrassing. How pathetic that would be, to be owned by someone who didn't even really want you.

What was she saying? Being owned, being someone else's property, was embarrassing enough! She was not going to start thinking of herself that way, to just accept what had happened to her, who she'd become. It was something that had been forced upon her. It's not like it was a choice or anything.

She heard him walk away. Without meaning to, she started screaming and hyperventilating all at the same time, which was no small feat.

"Quiet," he said in a casual voice, that same mindset of talking to a mischevous pet. "I'm coming back."

Jane briefly wondered if that's how everyone had always talked to slaves and she'd just never noticed before. She always tried to avoid them as best she could, which was pretty easy given that hardly any masters let their slaves go outside with them, and none of her friends were rich enough to own any slaves by a long shot. This was a complete change of setting for her, a brutal introduction to a whole new world that had been secretly intermingled with her own all this time, always just out of view.

The door opened again. "Listen," said the man, "you're not gonna try anything funny, are you? Because I'm fully dressed and you're not even wearing any shoes. With those chains on you, you can't outrun me, plus I'm guessing you're no more thrilled about the neighbours seeing you than I am. So if I pop open that lid, can I trust you to come with me like a good girl?"

Like a good girl. No one had talked to her like that since her father had last admonished her as a child. She felt the urge to protest, but thought better of it. "OK," she said in between sobs, as calmly as she could.

"Good."

The cage's cover was lifted again, and this time the man unlocked the padlocks to the lid, and swung it open. She could see he was holding a leash. "Come on, let's make it quick."

Jane carefully arched her back, sat up on her knees, then got to her feet. She felt dizzy.

"There's a good girl, come on," said the man. He clipped the leash onto her collar. Jane looked down at the chain dangling from the man's hand all the way down to her neck, and tentatively touched her collar. Sure enough, there was a semicircular ring fixed to it, like a big, metal letter D.

"Come on, I'm not kidding." The man tugged at the leash, pulling her towards the door.

It was all Jane could do not to fall over, tripping over the cage. She tried to step over it, but the chain between her ankles prevented her from raising either foot more than a few inches up off the floor.

"Here," said the man, "let me help you." He let go of the leash, letting the chain drape down between her breasts as the handle swung around her hips, brushing against her chastity belt. He lifted her up over the side of the cage and put her back down on the gravel of the driveway next to it, little pieces of grit sticking to her naked buttocks and feet.

Great, she thought. The last of the true gentlemen.

She tried to get back on her feet.

"No," said the man, "stay on the floor. I think it'd be better that way, start to teach you your place. You're clearly new at this. Here, just follow me." He picked her leash back up and tugged on it again.

Jane wiped the pieces of grit off her bottom in one swift motion, then crawled along after him on her knees, trying not to think about how much the grit now sticking to her knees hurt, and trying not to wonder if any of his neighbours could see her.

"That's better." The man grinned. "See? It's not that difficult."

He led her inside, then into the lounge of what seemed to Jane like a luxurious house, practically a mansion. The floor was made of a finely varnished wood, and the seats looked like expensive leather.

Once they stopped in the middle of the room, the man walked behind her and lifted her hair up. Not enough to hurt her, just enough to look at the back of her neck. Then he mumbled some numbers as if trying to memorise them. "Stay," he said. No "wait here" or anything so friendly; evidently he was used to treating people like he was treating her. He went back to the front door, and Jane heared several beeping noises.

When he came back, he looked somewhat relieved.

"Maybe there's been some kind of mistake," he said. "I didn't order any more slaves. I've already got one, see?" He shouted into the next room. "Hey, Lanny!"

Jane turned around to see another woman enter the room. She looked like she was barely an adult. She wore a cami top -- the lingerie kind, not the outer wear kind -- and a microskirt that revealed almost as much of her chastity belt as it covered. If it wasn't for the metal enclosing her vulva, Jane would actually have been able to glimpse the bottom of her labia peeping out from under the skirt. Then again, if it weren't for the chastity belt, she'd probably have been wearing a thong or something to cover herself. At least, Jane hoped she would. With an outfit like that, it was hard to tell what her master considered the boundaries of decent taste. The only thing working towards Lanny's sense of dignity appeared to be the fact that, apparently unlike Jane, she was allowed to walk upright.