Author's Note: Yet another chapter added to this dark story. As before I must emphasize that this is purely a work of fiction. It would not be nice to do this to another person in reality. So don't do it.
Hannah Gehringer was the first person in my life - and, until today, possibly the *only* person in my life - whom I hated so much that I wanted her dead. After what she had done to Thomas, after it sank in that she had destroyed his life, I saw her face in every dream I had. I became obsessed. I couldn't stop myself from thinking about her, from staring at her on college campus whenever she passed me, from parking my old, shabby VW Polo in front of her student's home at nights. I would sit in the shadows, watch her window and try to collect enough courage to climb out of my car and knock at her door and, when she eventually opened, beat her up.
I could have done that, you know? I'm a woman too, but you can bet your ass that I could have kicked the shit out of Hannah Gehringer. I'm neither helpless nor frail.
I was exhausted at that time, because I worked in three different bars. I still needed to earn money to pay my rent and pay for college. College was important to me, because my family consists of losers of all sorts, and I wanted to break that circle of fuckuppery. I didn't want to be a loser for the rest of my life. I wanted to achieve something.
Which is exactly why I never climbed out of that car: Hannah Gehringer was the antithesis of what I was: She came from a rich, influential family. She was set to be successful and live a meaningful life. She was a blonde, very pretty, small girl with a winning smile and large blue eyes and tiny white teeth. She was member of an influential fraternity. Everybody loved her and she was untouchable for someone like me.
Messing with her would mean that I deliberately would fuck up big time. If I hurt her, if I only did as much as to *attract her attention* and make her my enemy, she would be able to get me into all sorts of trouble. There was no way that a girl like me could win against a girl like her. And so, trying to do the wise thing, I never approached her in those months.
But there are mirrors in bars, and when you work in three(!) bars you see yourself in these fucking mirrors all the time. Here is what I saw: There was this alt girl in the mirrors, tall and in pretty good shape, with strong arms and a nice grin, her short hair dyed blue, her nose and lips and ears pierced and tattoos on her forearms and the sides of her neck. She looked like a tough girl, one you didn't want to mess with. But I knew that her looks were just a diversion from what this alt girl really was: A fucking coward who wouldn't even stand up for the boy who had been her best friend.
And that's why, one evening, I was in my car again, and the car was parked in front of Gehringers' students home again, and I was kind of drunk again, and the anger was boiling in my stomach again.
Usually I would just sit there while hours passed, and finally I would start the engine and drive home and hate myself for being such a douche. But this time, around 3 a.m. on a weekday, I saw a lonely figure climbing out of a cab, paying the driver and, as the cab drove away, turning towards the house.
It was Hannah Gehringer. She wore a black designer dress and held in her hand a black purse of the kind that looked minimalistic and still would be worth at least two of my monthly wages. How much would the diamond-encrusted ring on her hand be worth? I didn't have a fucking idea.
Gehringers had her hair tied into a simple ponytail and still looked fucking great. She walked in her high heels as if she'd been born in them. She looked so confident, so beautiful and so pleased with her life that I had a pretty hard time keeping myself from jumping out of the car and screaming at her.
But as it turned out that wouldn't even be necessary: She had just passed my car, which was parked on the other side of the street, when she suddenly stopped. She turned her head and looked right at me. Her eyes narrowed and she began walking towards my Volkswagen.
The fact that after all this time *she* came towards me was so absurd and so shocking that for a moment I felt the impulse to start the engine and get the fuck away from her. But I managed to fight that impulse down and I got out of the car as Hannah Gehringer approached me. I stood there and was absurdly insecure about what I was supposed to do now, when she put her small hands to her waist and cocked her head a bit to the side, mustering me.
"You know, I'm not fucking blind. Why are you stalking me, punk?"
I didn't know what to say. This was the first time that she spoke directly to me and I was just surprised about how sharp her voice sounded and how intensely she looked at me. I had imagined our confrontation pretty different.
"I'm Jennifer", I said insecurely.
"I don't give a shit about your name, punk girl", she immediately replied. "I just want to know what's going on here. Are you a fucking lesbian?"
I did the worst possible thing: Instead of saying anything I just shook my head, totally intimidated.
"Well, what do you want from me then? I know you from campus, and every time we pass each other you stare at me like a fucking weirdo. And I have seen your car - or what you *call* a car - too often in this street. You come here at nights and I can see your shadow on the drivers' seat, and you look up at my window for hours. So what the fuck is wrong with you?"
"I'm friends with Thomas", I said weakly. "That's why..." My voice trailed away. I had thought that I was tough and now had to realize that all it needed was a girl two heads smaller than me, with that kind of attitude, and I couldn't do shit.
But now Hannah was confused. "You are friends with Thomas? So what? Who is Thomas?"
The shock finally managed to get my out of my trance. "What do you mean, 'Who is Thomas'? Thomas was the boy you dated. *Thomas is the guy who nearly killed himself because of you!*"
Gehringer blinked, still needing a moment to understand what I was talking about. Then, after two or three seconds, she began to smile. It wasn't a pretty smile too... it was a bit weird, much too amused and somehow cold, and definitely not what you would expect to see on such a pretty girls face. Her mouth smiled, but her eyes did not.
"Oh, you mean *Ratboy*. I remember him, of course. Hey, that was months ago."
"His name isn't Ratboy. He's a punk, not a rat. And his name is Thomas, and you broke his fucking heart. Do you know that he overdosed because of you?"
I so hoped she would say no, that she had not known that, and that she would apologize and be heartbroken. I felt sick and I had just realized how stupid my obsession with her had been. Had she told me she had not known about his condition then I might just have gone home.
But instead Hannah Gehringer laughed. Like her smile, the laugh was not at all pretty. It was a sickening sound, amused for all the wrong reasons, and soaked with poison. I began to ask myself if this was a sane woman.
"I know that he overdosed, but what the hell do I care? He was a joke to me, just someone to shock a friend with. Do you know why I said yes when Ratboy asked me out? I had to attend the birthday party of a girl I hate. Going there with Ratboy was like bringing an ugly dog to shit on the carpet, to make a special kind of statement." She shrugged. "You know, he was funny for an evening. I told him that later, and I thought he'd be cool about it." She cocked her head a bit to the side, mustering me very interested. She wanted to see my reaction, it was obvious. "And your friend Ratboy started crying and told me he was into me. *Into* me!" She laughed again. The sound made me feel very cold. "I just hate it when men cry. Don't you too?"
"Thomas was my friend, you damn bitch! He had problems, but he was one of the best guys I've ever known." I didn't know what else to say. My hands had turned to fists without me noticing it. "He was my friend, and he overdosed because you broke his fucking heart, and he's in a coma and you don't give a shit?"
"Oh", she simply said. "I assumed he had died in the meantime. Well, I guess Darwinism doesn't always hold up to its promises."
There had been one last mental thread holding me back from attacking her. Now it snapped.
A curtain came down in front of my eyes and now I saw everything in shades of red. I grabbed the bitch by her shoulder without thinking, and I raised a fist to fundamentally rearrange that pretty, sneering visage of hers. I didn't plan to kill her, but I was furious and filled with rage. It's very possible that I would have accidentally ended her life had I gotten the chance.
But something curious happened: As I grabbed her shoulder she moved so surprisingly fast, especially for a high society girl who could not have a lot of fighting experience (or could she...?). She whirled around, evaded my fist and kicked me so hard against the body that I stumbled two steps backwards and felt a sharp stinging pain in my ribcage. Hadn't I been energized by anger, I might have collapsed.
Instead I flung myself towards her again, smashed into her and grabbed her for good this time. Since I was larger than Hannah I was able to push her backwards. She wasn't smiling anymore by now, but she was definitely less scared than I would have expected. And that was *unsettling*. While we wrestled she planted two, three very fast punches with her little fists against my ribcage and each of those felt as if was wearing leaden gloves. I buried a fist deep in her stomach and she made a wheezing noise as the air was forced out of her lungs. But she did not yet give up: her hand disappeared in the small black purse that was still dangling from her shoulder, and when it reappeared she was holding a small, black device with a bright blue, flickering flame at its tip.
Had I not blocked her in the last second, she would have thrust the taser right into my face.
The crazy bitch was baring her teeth like a dangerous animal. She tried to hit me with the taser again, and just barely I managed to grab her wrist, bend it to the side and protect myself from her attack. We struggled with each other.
"Why so angry?", she asked me with a hissing voice that finally persuaded me: This woman was a psychopath. The pretty mask she showed hid nothing else than insanity and cruelty. "Is it because you wanted him to date you and fuck you and have little ratkids with you? Aaaww did I spoil your..."
I lifted her up, more hateful than I had ever been in my life, and threw her. I threw her against the side of my Volkswagen, and she smashed against the car with her head and her back and then fell to the ground.
For a moment I thought I had killed her. The night around me was very silent, and very dark. I wished it would swallow me.
But then she started moving again. She moaned and sat up on the asphalt. Her hair was like a yellow curtain in front of her face. I couldn't see her eyes, but I could see the pearly shimmer of her small teeth as she grinned. With one she touched the back of her head, and when she looked at her fingers I could see that there was some blood sticking to the tips.
"Game over", she said amused. "You just tried to kill me, and you'll go to prison for this. You are even going to pay for all my medical bills. And I will have a lot of medical bills." She giggled, in the same sickening way as before. "Game over", she repeated. "I'm going to destroy your fucking life, slut."
The taser was laying half way between us on the ground. I took it with a hand that felt ice cold. I could not think straight, but it also wasn't a panic reaction. At that day I had no idea what the fuck it was that drove me to switch the taser back on.
Hannah Gehringer looked up and saw it in my hand, and she was just slightly confused. She furrowed her brow and opened her mouth to ask something, and right in that moment I pushed her back against the car, rammed the taser against her body and unloaded it into her.
She switched and shuddered, I could hear her teeth gnashing as the electricity shot through her muscles and cramped them. Her eyes rolled around in their sockets, her hands grabbed for my face, but she didn't have them under much control and so I could just turn my head a bit to the side and evade them. I switched the taser off and she slumped against me, but still tried to move. She was wheezing and moaning under her breath... I could hear her whispering what a bitch I was. "You're... sso... ffucking... dead...", she mumbled.
So I unloaded the taser into her again, sending her into the same frantic twitching as before. This time, when I deactivated it after a few seconds, she couldn't move anymore. Her eyes had rolled backwards, her body was limp. She was still breathing though.
I looked around, lost in utter disbelief about what I had done. It was like a small miracle, but the street was still deserted and there also didn't seem to be any spectators in the windows of the students' home.
I had to get out of there. I didn't know what to do next, but I did know very well that I had to get the fuck away from that house and off that street. And I could not leave Hannah here.
So I opened the trunk and put her inside, and then I got into the car and started the engine with shaking hands, and I drove off as fast as I could, with my thoughts racing.
I had fucked up my whole life and it seemed that the only question left would be: In what way did I want to go down?
There was a small parking lot at the side of the road, about three miles from the students' home where our fight had taken place. This late at night, the dark spot between trees and bushes was completely deserted. I stopped my car there. I lit a cigarette with hands shaking so badly that I nearly dropped the lighter. I tried to calm myself, but my thoughts were racing. What the fuck had I done?
I had allowed that fucking bitch Hannah Gehringer to ruin my life. And how it had amused her! All the hate I felt for those above me - all the rich girls and spoiled princesses, all those fuckers with powerful families, all those snobs with that awe-inspiring kind of entitlement that made them undoubtedly believe that they deserved everything that life just endowed them with - welled up and I smashed a fist so hard against the steering wheel of my car that I nearly broke it.
I muttered 'fuckfuckfuck' without pause. Now that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off I felt how hard Gehringer had kicked and punched me. I got my cell phone out of my pocket. I began to dial. I would call the cops and get this over with fast. There was no other option. I could already hear that Gehringer was weakly moving in my cars' trunk and I needed to do something. Why had I even put her in there? Calling an ambulance as fast as possible would have been a much, much better idea.
Then, just as I had my finger already on the 'Call'-button, my phone rang. The timing was unbelievable.
It was an anonymous caller, which means no number at all was shown. I didn't have friends who would call me without ID and it was much too late at night anyways. For a moment I hesitated, then I answered the call. I was just about to tell the caller that this was a really bad time for a conversation with me, but before I could speak a male voice on the other end of the line already said:
"Good evening Jennifer. I trust that Hannah is still in your trunk?"
I froze. My heart pounded so fast and so hard in my chest that I was sure I would suffer cardiac arrest any second now.
"Well, since you don't answer I'll just assume that she is still in there. And that is very good, Jennifer. Do not release her. You hear me? Hannah will do everything she can in order to take revenge. You may already have noticed that she isn't a very balanced individual."
I didn't know what to say. The caller sounded not unfriendly and very calm. He could as well have been talking about the weather.
"Who are you?" My voice was so coarse that I could barely understand myself.
"You expect me to tell you my name?" Now the caller sounded a little amused, but he still didn't seem to be fucking with me. For all I knew he sounded like a nice guy who was just having a pleasant conversation. It was too surreal to believe. "Well Jennifer, I can't tell you my real name. But I am not with the police, and I am not going to inform them about what you did either. So you don't have to afraid of me."
"I'm..." I cleared my throat. "I'm going to inform the cops myself. I don't know what the fuck else I could do."
"Well, I would like to make a proposition", the caller said smoothly. "I would advise you to not call the cops, instead check if you have tape or rope in your car. If you don't, get some. Then open the trunk and tie Hannah up until she can't move a muscle, and bring her to a safe place."
My eyes widened. "What the fuck... *are you crazy?*"
"Not any more than you. You know what, Jennifer? You can call me Pete. And here is what you need to know: I was hired by an interested client to keep an eye on Hannah, report on her activities and... prepare for further instructions. In the past weeks I saw you quite often in front of her house. I got curious and collected some info about you as well." His voice became more sympathetic when he added: "I know about Thomas and what happened to him, and I assume that he is the reason for your obsession with Miss Gehringer."
"Yeah..." I nodded. Talking to Pete somehow made me feel a little better. My pulse was slower now, and steadier. Behind me, in the trunk, Hannah produced some slightly louder noises than before, but right now she could wait. "Yeah, Thomas was a good friend."
"His file says that he suffered brain damage when he overdosed. He's going to need a lot of care and therapy if he's supposed to get a chance for full recovery, even if he wakes up. Does his family have that kind of money?"
"No. They don't have that kind of money. In fact", I added, "they have no kind of money whatsoever."
"Do you want to earn ten thousand dollars, Jennifer? What you do with the money once you have it would be solely up to you. But I figure you might be the kind of girl who would help Thomas' family with it."
I shook my head in disbelief. "I know that I already asked you if you are crazy. I'm sorry, but now I would like to know if this is a joke."
"No, why should it be a joke? Essentially, you have done something that I would eventually have been paid to do: You have kidnapped Hannah. So you have done my job for me. And it's not as if you have a bad conscience because of that, do you? She thinks you are a fuckup, Jennifer. A lot of people look at an alt girl like you from a family as yours and see her as a fuckup. If you turn yourself over to the police now, *you will prove that you are a fuckup*. And you will remain a fuckup for the rest of your life. Is that what you want?"
"Of course not. But I can't kidnap a girl, I just..."
"But you already did kidnap a girl", the voice said. "And, as you may agree, there are few people deserving this more than Hannah Gehringer. You think have already discovered what kind of an individual she is. But you have no idea how sadistic and cruel she really has been towards others. She is only 24 years old and has a big career in front of her, and she will damage many people more in her life if she gets the chance. So make sure she doesn't get it."
I felt like someone who is gong insane. I had lost my orientation completely. Or had I not? How much worse could things get for me?
"Are you sure that no one saw what I did on that street?"
"Positive. The police is not looking for you or Hannah at all. I am monitoring their channels. And the small street on which you two had your fight is as empty as it was before. At the moment, no one knows that she has been kidnapped. And when they find out, they will not draw a connection to you. You have been very, very lucky. So don't waste that luck by calling the cops now."
"I..." I rubbed my hand against my forehead, then pinched the bridge of my nose. A major headache was incoming. "I have a roll of duct tape in my glove compartment."
"Very well. Let me give you some tips about how to handle this. And Jennifer: Let me also give you a piece of very important advice."
I asked him what that advice was and he told me. And then, still not sure what weird kind of movie my life was just turning into, I took the tape and got to task.
*You should try to enjoy what you do to her. She deserves it.*
This was the piece of advice Pete had given me. I wasn't sure if I could follow it.
I told you I'm a tough girl, remember? My family was really fucked up and I grew up with many sick people around me, but I somehow always pulled through. I do what I have to. I survive. I get along.
This, I decided as I stepped to the trunk of the car, wasn't much different. Maybe I was making the biggest mistake in my life, but how could things get worse? Pete had had my number and knew my name. Pete had witnessed what I had done and had not called the cops. That wasn't how normal people reacted when they saw someone put another person in their trunk, so maybe his promise about the ten thousand dollars was true as well. Whatever would happen to me later, maybe I could at least earn some money to support Thomas and his family.
I opened the trunk. Hannah had been moving inside for the last minutes, kicking and beating against it from the inside. Now, with a shrill scream, she jumped right out of it.
Or at least tried to. I grabbed the slippery bitch and pushed her right back in. She didn't have the right kind of leverage to put up a real fight from her position, half sitting and half lying in the narrow trunk. Also, I was some pounds heavier and quite a bit stronger than her.
"Are you fucking insane? Get your hands off me and let me out of thisAAAAGGGHHHHHHH!"
I had just tasered her another time, blue sparks shooting right into her shoulder, the electricity rocking her body. Still she thrust a hand at me, and wide-eyed tried to push me away. For such a small woman she had an amazing constitution.
I took the taser away and rolled her on her back. She twitched and then she began to struggle, but just weakly.
"Fff...fuck...." She couldn't say much, her breathing was pretty fast because she was fighting for air. I grabbed her arms, put them on her back and immediately began taping her hands. The duct tape was of the thick and silvery kind and looked a bit like iron around her thin wrists as I rolled several layers around them.
*Don't forget 'cinching' between her wrists*, Pete had told me on the phone. *Act quickly, but not hasty. Make sure she can't give you any troubles while you're transporting her. Tying up a flexible young woman is something that must be done right, or else she'll find a way to free herself eventually. And you really can't afford to take that risk.*
So I cinched, leading the tape through between her wrists twice, then again rolling it around them. Gehringer moaned and threw her head up. She sounded angry and pretty shocked.
"What the fuck are you doing you fucking cunt?? Leave me out of this fucking... GGGHHHHHHHGGGCK!"
I had tasered her again, without much thinking about it. Part of me felt bad, but different part of me began to enjoy this indeed. I pushed all bad conscience to the darkest corners of my mind, then grabbed her feet, pulled the shoes and ankle socks off her feet and taped her ankles. I then pulled them up towards her hands, bending her legs in the process, until Hannahs' heels rested on her small ass. A seam at the side of her black dress tore and I could see that she was wearing a black lace thong, her pussy lips slightly swallowing the fabric. I momentarily enjoyed the knowledge that it might pinch her cunt a little and that she had no means to pull it out and into a more comfortable position right now. And if that sounds insane under the given circumstances then yeah, you've figured out exactly how I felt.
I taped her hands to her ankles and used so many layers of tape to restrain her that finally there was a thick shining knob of tape essentially covering and engulfing her hands and wrists and twitching fingers. Her small muscles shone beneath the tanned skin of her arms as she struggled against the uncomfortable hogtie.
"Don't.... don't... shock me again...!", said Hannah. She still sounded at least as pissed as she was scared. By now she seemed to realize that things were not going according to her plans anymore. "What the fuck do you want from me, you fucking punk whore?"
"I want you to open your mouth", I said. My voice was shaking, but just a little.
Hannah instantly shook her head. "Fuck you! You don't know who you are dealing with, you fucking bitch! My lawyers are going to eat you alive. Everyone is going to know what kind of a fucking sicko you are, *everyone!*"
I flicked the taser on again and held it right to her cheek, so close that without question she could feel the electricity even though I didn't yet touch her with the contacts. She screamed under her breath and her frantic struggles intensified. It was a good test for her hogtie: Despite all her efforts she couldn't free her hands or get any more leeway. It seemed I had done my work all right.
"Maybe tomorrow your lawyers are going to eat me alive", I told her. "*Tonight* you can either open your fucking mouth or I'll shock your ass until you piss blue sparks." I made a short pause in order to allow my words to sink in, then added: "And then, after I've tasered you shitless, I can still gag you. So do you want it the hard way or the harder way?"
She opened her mouth. I could see in her face how much self-control that took, and in her blue, pretty dolls eyes was murder.
I stuffed her own socks into her mouth, and then pulled the tape between her lips. That was, as well, something that Pete had told me: *When you gag her, do it properly, don't do it like they tape peoples' mouths on TV, because it doesn't work that way. You have to be thorough.*
She might have hoped that I would gag her that way you so often see on TV, so that she'd be able to free herself from the gag once I wasn't looking anymore. Her eyes widened when she realized how tightly I was going to gag her, rolling the tape around her whole head several times, pulling it extremely tight, forcing her cheeks to bulge and the socks being pressed very deep into her mouth. She tried to protest but couldn't make much noise anymore. Her nostrils flared and she recommenced struggling.
"It's fine, I'm not going to kill you", I told Gehringer when I was done with gagging her. She didn't seem to appreciate that. In fact her moaning got louder as I also put a layer of tape over her pretty blue eyes.
"gmmmmmmmhhgghh....!!!" Her protest was useless. But she didn't seem to be the kind of girl who reacts very rational when things get out of control.
Meanwhile and to my surprise I realized that the opposite seemed to be true in my case.
I hesitated. Then I reached between her legs and pulled that thong a little further into her slit. It was the weirdest, most inadequate way I could think of to annoy her, after I had already tortured her with a taser and tied her up most cruelly. I grinned as she squeaked. And to my shock I realized that I was enjoying this to a not so small extent.
What the fuck was going on with me?
After Hannah was tightly packed and my trunk locked again, I got back in the car and pulled my phone out of my pocket. Pete had asked me to not hang up, so that he could listen to how things would proceed.
"Didn't sound bad", he said with amusement in his voice. "I didn't get it all, with your phone in your pocket and all. But I gut that shit-talk about the hard way and the harder way - a real classic!"
"Are you taking the piss?", I asked him baffled. "I've just electroshocked a woman and tied her up in my trunk and you have the nerve to make jokes?"
"I find that humor is most welcome in dire situations", he said more genuinely. "And I really think that you did well. So far it's quite impressive how you handle this, without freaking out and all."
Is put a cigarette between my lips and lit it. "Thanks mate", I said. "But wait until I get time to really think about this shit."
"Let's not give you such a chance then. Do you have a place where you could take Hannah?"
I blinked. I forgot inhaling the smoke. "What the fuck... I thought you would come fetch her. You want me to bring her to a place of *mine*?"
"Sure, why not? I just told you that I'm impressed by your coolness. You already earned yourself ten thousand - want to earn another ten grand?"
"Can I even believe you that you have so much money?"
"Sure you can. Listen Jennifer, I have some of your personal records in front of me. Is it true that you've inherited your dad's house after his death?"
"I have. But it's a shithole, and I haven't been there for at least two years."
"Fair enough, but on the map it looks like the place is very secluded. It would be perfect as a place to keep Hannah hidden from folks. Drive there and make sure she spends an uncomfortable safe night at this place. Tomorrow morning you'll receive a package with the first ten thousand. Would that be enough proof of my sincerity?"
"Well, maybe not your 'sincerity', but proof for your spending power at least."
I could hear that Pete was smiling. "You are right. Proof of my sincerity has to come from elsewhere I guess. We'll discuss that later. But do we have another deal, for now?"
My thoughts were racing. If he was telling the truth then this was a lot of money I was just earning. How much do you need to pay for therapy when you are fresh out of a coma? A lot of money, that much was sure.
"We have another deal", I said. "If the money really gets to me then we can have another talk."
He agreed. We said goodbye and hung up on each other. I felt very tired and very awake at the same time when I started the engine and left the parking lot, driving into the heart of the night.
My father was a heavy drinker, and I can count with the fingers of one hand the good memories I have about him. But even though he was a weak man and a mean bastard: When he died he had left me the house we had spent most of our good summers in. It was a shabby, run-down place in the country, situated in the blind spot of a small village with approximately three hundred inhabitants. It was surrounded by old meshwork fences and derelict garages and a small piece of woodland, and I had visited it only three or four times since it had become my property. But now I was heading there. I drove for two hours and only stopped once, to get myself a coffee.
I could hear occasional bumping noises coming from the trunk, but they were very weak. I was the only customer at the gas station and so there wasn't anyone else to take notice. I turned the music louder as I drove on. The Ramones are always good for my mood.
The whole neighborhood seemed deserted and at least every second house was empty by now. The road hadn't been cared for in the last years and looked as if there'd been an earthquake recently. Behind the village the road turned into not much more than a muddy path. The house appeared behind some muddy hills when morning was already dawning. When I reached my property I had to get out of the VW and take a chain away that blocked the driveway.
I parked the car in the garage at the side of the old house. I unlocked the front door and entered and looked around, and I found that the place was filled with rubbish and that the air smelled as if something had died in here, moldy and depressing. A lot of memories came back as I checked the house, and most of them were about me coping with shit no child should be forced to cope with. I had thought a lot about Hannah Gehringer during the drive, and combined with those memories I felt less compassion for her than ever before. She wanted to ruin the life of someone who hadn't had much of a good life in any case? Well, she could fuck herself and take more than just a sip of her own medicine.
I prepared some things and then walked back to the car. I unlocked the trunk and looked down at Hannah.
She was a mess: Covered in sweat, her dress stained with oil that had gotten into my trunk somehow, the side of her face bruised, her eyes red with dark rings beneath them. Seeing her like that was kind of shocking - when you see another girl like that you've got the fucking impulse to help her - but I didn't flinch.
"Okay, I'm going to take you out of the trunk and you aren't going to give me any trouble", I said and reached for her. "I don't plan hurting you anymore, so let's..."
Hannah moved so fast I didn't see it coming: Suddenly her hands were in front of her, the tape still clinging to her wrists, but not securing them to each other anymore. How the fuck had she managed to free herself? In the last second before she grabbed the brim of the trunk, raised her legs and kicked me right in the face I saw the diamond-encrusted ring she'd been wearing. How could I have been so fucking stupid to overlook it?
The kick in the head hit me like a... kick in the head essentially. Sure, she was a barefooted, small woman - but she knew how to hurt a person when given the chance. The pain blinded me and I stumbled backwards, just seeing stars and hearing a weird, disorienting buzzing noise. I screamed angry, regained my balance, blinked like crazy to clear my vision. Through the stars I saw Hannah half climbing and half falling out of the trunk. The tape-gag around her head had obviously been loosened already and just remained on her lips to deceive me: She now pulled it away easily and threw it to the ground.
"You're fucking dead!", she hissed and then darted towards the still opened door of my garage.
Well, since she had spent the last two hours in the trunk, 'darting' is kind of an exaggeration: She was still fast, but definitely suffering from a bad case of exhaustion and stiff legs. My problem was that I had just been kicked in the head and that I was not very stable on my feet either. The chase must have looked silly, with me stumbling after her while she wheezed and dragged herself through the garage door.
"Help. Fucking help me now! Is anyone there? HELP ME!" Her voice was shrill, still more angry than scared. She looked around on the compound and it seemed to sink in that there was no one who'd come to save her. She kept running, fast as she could.
And I knew that if she escaped I was in for a lot of bad press, a trial which I could only loose and many years in prison. So I summoned all power that was left and chased after her with an angry, frustrated scream on my lips. I crashed into her from behind, grabbed her and pulled her down with me as I fell, and we rolled over the muddy ground in the yard and struggled with each other.
For a moment it seemed that Hannah would manage to shake me off: She was so fast and agile that she nearly slipped through my fingers. Already she was on her feet again while I was still sliding through the mud. In the last second I managed to grab her left ankle and pull her back.
She lost balance, fell to the ground again, this time with her chin hitting the ground hard. An 'oooffhh...'-noise escaped he throat and I managed to get on top of her. I slung an arm around her throat, used my weight to pin the twitching little bitch to the ground and tighten the chokehold.
Her fingernails dug into my arm, her face got redder with each moment. She tried to bite me but coudnt reach my arm with her teeth. She struggled. She coughed. She wheezed. It took her about fifteen seconds to realize that she had lost the fight.
"I.... give up... you shit-eating... bitch....", Hannah explained wheezing while the veins on her forehead kept swelling and her face turned deep red and puffy. I guess she expected I would now release her from the chokehold.
"That's great", I uttered though clenched teeth. "But I'm not going to give you a second chance to fuck with me. Plus you just called me a shit-eating bitch, bitch. So enjoy your time without any fucking oxygen." And I just kept her in the chokehold while she, realizing what I had just said, recommenced twitching and struggling.
It took me another minute of wresting her before she produced a last wheezing cough and went limp, her lights out. I checked on her pulse and was pretty relieved that it was still there. I had after all not intended to kill her, even though only few things in my life had ever felt so good than choking her. This and tasering her, I had to admit, had been the high points of the last three months for me.
I lifted her from the ground and slung her over my shoulder. I grunted and panted, but managed to drag her into the house. I brought her down into the basement, where most rooms where filled with junk, but one was as good as empty: In my fathers' old workroom there was just a workbench with some rusty old tools in a corner. This was where I had found and already prepared the chains. Now I let Hannah down, pulled that dress off her so that she was only wearing that black lace thong and the fitting lace bra, and then chained her up.
Her wrists I chained on her back, a chain went around her waist like a belt. The wrist-chain was padlocked to the waist-chain. Another chain went around her throat, running down from the back of this 'collar' to her chained hands. I also secured her ankles, with yet another chain, and gave her only about fifteen centimeters leeway between them.
I looked at the choking, wheezing bitch and felt good. Well, actually I felt like someone who was buried in shit all the way to the upper brim of my lower lip, but at least I could be sure that this time, Hannah would not find a way to free herself. Sure, there was the workbench with the rusty tools, but none of these was suitable for picking the padlocks, and the chains themselves were old but very solid. There was nothing here that would help Hannah to break them.
The last thing I did was pull the diamond-encrusted ring off her finger.
"I'll bring you a blanket later", I told her as I put the ring into the pocket of my jeans. Hannah stared at me with glassy eyes. Being choked to unconsciousness and waking up as good as naked and chained in a basement had obviously grounded her a little. "I'll also bring you something to drink and food. But if you try to be noisy I swear to God that I'll gag you again with your own fucking panties. Got it?"
Hannah nodded. In her eyes, confused as she might be, there was still murder. "You can't leave me like this", she said calmer, colder. "You can't keep me... chained in here. There is no fucking toilet for instance!" She weakly moved her arms behind her back.
"I'll come back soon. Until then you'll just have to try and not piss yourself. But you know what? Even if you, I don't give a damn."
I left and she didn't scream after me. She didn't even say a word when I locked the door to that room and left her in there only with the light of one old light bulb. I had already climbed half of the staircase back into the house when I thought I heard someone scream in anger and frustration behind me.
I turned the heating in the house on, put fresh blankets on the bed in my old room and dropped onto the mattress with a moan. My muscles hurt, my face hurt, my head hurt. What the fuck had I gotten myself into? I was so exhausted that I fell asleep within seconds.
I woke up when it was bright day outside, and only because someone was ringing the doorbell. I listened for Hannah - could she hear the bell too? If so she'd to be screaming her head off right now. "T'was stupid not to gag her", I mumbled to myself. I got out of the bed, still wearing the clothes I had worn all night, and answered the door as fast as possible.
The delivery guy was a good-looking, middle aged guy with good aps and a friendly face. He smiled at me, handed me a very small package and a large crate, had me sign for both and left again. He had not heard a thing from the basement, and neither had I.
I left the crate stand where the guy had placed it, right on the veranda. I went into the house and opened the much smaller package. Inside were the ten grand I had been promised by Pete. The ten bank notes looked as good as new and felt very real. These didn't look like counterfeit money.
I hesitated. I took the phone from my pocket. I put it away again, pulled it back out. Pete had called from an anonymous number that I could not call back. What now?
My phone rang. This guys' timing was unbelievable.
"Did you get the delivery?", he asked innocently.
"I did", I said. "What's in the crate?"
"It's a bitch suit."
"It's a what?" I had no idea what he was talking about.
"It's complicated. Essentially what you'll find inside the crate is a very sophisticated set of restraints that was designed for Hannah Gehringer. My client is a man with pretty unique interests prepared it for her to wear after her abduction."
That was a pretty shocking revelation. It got more shocking as I opened the crate and actually browsed through the contents: There were several pieces of equipment: Straps and belts, something that looked essentially like a corset, a thick collar, a set of four items that could have been some kind of sleeves. There was a hood with large eyeholes, the imitation of a dog's snout and a lot of straps and laces dangling from it. There was something that looked like a butt-plug with a doggie tail as a counterweight.
I've never been against Bdsm, in fact I got a pretty kinky side: Bondage does turn me on and I am not completely clueless about other fetishes either. But kidnapping a girl and forcing her into this kind of suit was something different altogether.
"Woah", I said. "This is dark. Why does he hate her so much?"
"He has known her for a long time and does not like her... attitude. He may be a sociopath, but he's following a certain code of honor. I think he once hoped that Hannah would turn out to be like him, but in the past few years he might have come to the conclusion that she's uncontrollable."
I looked at the hood, turned it in my hands, imagined Hannah wearing it. "So he was going to have her kidnapped. And what was supposed to happen then?"
"She would have disappeared from the face of the earth. A tragic case of a girl gone missing. There would have been a search of course, ads in newspapers, her whole story on cable, her face on posters and milk cartons. Or are you too old for that when you disappear with twenty-two? Whatever, it would have been the whole 'Have you seen this girl?'-routine. Basically everything that usually happens when a pretty, promising young woman vanishes would have happened in this case as well. And in the meantime Hannah would already be in a hidden place, controlled by very specialized people who would transform her into a good, obedient doggie."
"You can't turn a girl into a dog", I said dryly. "Humans are a little more complex than canines."
Thomas chuckled. "Sure you can turn a woman into something else. Dogs, Ponygirls, Slaves... it's being done all the time. Of course it doesn't happen so often to people from high society, but sometimes it does. For example I know of a young and wealthy family who accidentally seeked shelter in the wrong house during a thunderstorm. They are all ponyslaves now - mom, dad and two very sweet daughters. Dads' influence and money doesn't count once you have disappeared from the face of the earth and are in the hands of people who mean business.
Then there's this once promising young actress who made two successful movies, loved cocaine a little too much, got completely derailed and destroyed her career before it had really started. Her manager belongs to the same crowd than my mentor and got so massively annoyed that he arranged the actresses 'death' in a plane crash. She's actually still alive, has been a rubber doll for eleven years by now. The guy who bought her is a former fan of hers who keeps her permanently in bondage, rubber attire and sensory deprivation and calls her 'Miss Behaviour'. She'll never see the sunlight again and I would bet that she couldn't even talk anymore if you freed her from the permanent gag the guy had installed in her mouth. She must be completely insane by now."
I swallowed hard. "Well, some men might be into stuff like that..."
"...some women are too", Thomas pointed out. "More than you know. Actually you sound a bit excited."
"...but I am not."
"Maybe not per say and maybe not unconditionally. I understand that you wouldn't wish it to happen to a stranger or a nice girl."
"I wouldn't wish something so cruel to happen to anyone, Thomas."
"I think you are lying. I think I know you a bit by now, and I can hear how your voice shakes. You seem to already imagine Hannah as the unconsenting occupant of the suit."
I didn't want to give up so easily. "I'm not that kind of..." I was going to say 'fuckup' again, but bit my tongue. "...person. I don't want to be..." My voice trailed away.
Pete was silent too, for a moment. When he spoke again he sounded more sympathetic and more honest than ever before. It was outright laughable that I actually liked this guy.
"I admit that I have done things like this to all kinds of women, Jennifer. I catch them, I break them, I train them. The guy I work for taught me how to do it. It's a job, and a job I enjoy a lot. But it is much more fun to do this to women like Hannah Gehringer. You don't have to be afraid that I would harm you in such a way."
"Wait, please. Let me explain. When I saw you fight Hannah on that street - when I saw how much she scared you and then saw you fight back and knock her out - I was impressed by you. I think you are very tough, even tougher then you know. And I think you have a talent that you know nothing about yet. It's a talent that could earn you a lot of money, Jennifer. It could help you to begin a new life. And if you want it then I'll be your mentor and teach you how to do these things."
"You want me to turn her into a dog. You want me to put that suit on her."
"I want you to *transform* her, Jennifer. It's an art form."
"It's cruel and insane."
"But you'd enjoy trying it."
I was still looking at the hood. I studied the rest of the items again and let the tips of my fingers brush over leather and rubber.
"And you are going to pay me for it? How much will you pay?"
"Another ten thousand if you put the suit on her. If you don't want to continue afterwards we'll arrange an exchange and you hand her over to me. If you continue and train her yourself... you can earn much more money."
I took about twenty seconds to think about it. Pete did not rush me and just kept his silence. The money enticed me to do it, but there was so much more going on in my head: After all that Hannah had done to Thomas, after all that she had threatened to do to me... I did not feel obligated in any way to help her. Pete was absolutely right: Had she been a likeable girl I would not have done it. Had she been a stranger I would have had a bad conscience and thus might have declined the offer, no matter how badly I needed money. But I knew who she was. I could not help but think that I could do this, and that I might indeed even enjoy it. The thought to put her into the suit made my heart beat a little faster.
"I'll do it", I said. "I'll turn her into a bitch for you and you pay me for it."
He exhaled audibly. Was he relieved? Only now did I realize that there was no way he could have trusted me to keep his existence a secret if I had said 'no'."
"Did I just barely save me from being put into a bitch suit myself?" I asked him with a hint of irony. This was all happening too fast. I wasn't even scared.
"Not really", Pete answered honestly. He sounded so friendly. "But I admit that with your body you'd make an excellent ponyslave. And I've got a device here that analyzes your voice patterns. If you'd said 'nay' - or if you had said 'yay' and the computer had identified that as a lie - I would have had to make sure you don't run around and tell people about the stuff that we discussed today."
"I understand." I really did. It's a dog eat dog world. I've never thought anything else. And I could respect Pete for being so open. I would not betray him. I had made my decision. "Well, I'm afraid I won't give you a reason to transform me. I'm rather a trainer then the one who is trained."
"Good decision, Jennifer. Fits you better than a pony harness too. Now let me explain how the outfit is applied. You are a newbie after all, and as your mentor I'm responsible for you."
It felt pretty good, hearing him say that last part. Pete talked and I listened, and from a certain point on I even took notes.
After the conversation I went upstairs and showered. After that, with my hair still wet, I went to the village. Getting there from the secluded old house took me about twenty minutes of driving across pretty much forgotten paths and muddy roads. Once I was there I got the shopping behind me as quick as possible - I mostly just filled some bags with canned goods and pasta and on top of that got myself some new clothes. I also bought a toothbrush and some more of the stuff you need when you return to the abandoned house you grew up in.
It was good that I bought it all at the same corner shop: The sum I had to pay in the end was at least high enough to somehow justify that I paid it with such a large bill. There were no questions asked and as I put the change in my pocket I was resolved to use the rest of the large bills only in anonymous circumstances and larger cities.
I returned and made sure the old fridge was still working. Then I went back to the crate. I rummaged through its' contents once more. I chose what I needed and put all those things into an unsuspicious sports bag. I was nervous. My nipples were hard and driving me crazy, which probably was the silliest part.
When I entered the room and saw Hannah I had a bad conscience, at least for a short moment: She had been forced to sleep on the dusty floor and was accordingly dirty, and the chains could not have made her stay in my custody any more comfortable. She looked tired and had dark rings under her pretty eyes and her hair was a mess. Judging from the small pool I saw in a corner she had been forced to empty her bladder like this, at least once..
My bad conscience persisted only for a moment though: The items on my fathers' old workbench were in roughly the same positions they had been before, but only *roughly* the same positions: A hammer had been moved, as well as a handsaw. Some nails were lying on the ground where there had not been nails before.
Of course she had tried to free herself. I would have too. But the rest of the story was not in her calm, tired face but in her eyes. Those blue doll eyes, trying so hard to look sane and rational, were in fact filled with hatred. Had Hannah managed to free herself from the chains and get out of this room, I was sure she would not just have left this place and called the cops: She would have killed me, cut my throat while I slept or smashed my head in with the hammer. We were mortal enemies. That was something I finally had to accept if I wanted to get out of this alive and not sentenced to twenty years of prison.
It's a dog eat dog world, right? You do what you have to do.
I told Hannah with a weak smile: "It's good to see you're still alive. But seeing you also makes me feel so bad! It's not easy for me, but I..." I let my voice trail away for a moment. "I want to apologize for the things I did. I hope you are not hurting too much." I *can* be a good actress, and right now I did my best to look regretful and a little coy, like a girl who had time to make up her mind and has realized the mistake she made. I took two more steps towards Hannah, opened the bag and took out of it a bottle of water and a sandwich.
Her eyes darted towards the water and food and I could see how much she wanted both, but she managed to hide the greed after only a second. "Yeah, well I'm a tough cookie", she said. "I was really angry at you for a while, but frankly... I guess I kind of deserved this. Making jokes about your friend was plain wrong. It's just that I had had a rough week and lashed out against the wrong person.
I had a hard time not breaking into hysteric laughter. Hannah Gehringer and I were reversely trying to persuade each other that we could still become friends, that we had grown from this experience and now there was an opportunity to bond. No grudge would be held anymore whatsoever and we'd both walk into the sunset hand in hand, farting rainbows.
"I would so much like to find a solution for this... situation", I said. I unscrewed the water bottle and came a step closer again, and then made a face like I was suddenly having a moment of doubt. "Listen, I would like to get you out of the chains. Then you could drink and eat and we could talk this through. But you aren't going to try and... hurt me again, are you?"
Just for the fraction of a second there was a look on her face as if she couldn't believe how fucking dumb I was. Then she smiled.
"I don't see why I should want to hurt you. I hate violence, Jennifer. I think we should find a solution for this, as quickly as possible. And I'm... really hungry and thirsty."
I nodded. I knelt next to her, but the large bag on the ground and made sure she could not yet see what was inside. Then I had her turn around.
Her arms were okay, the chains hadn't caused real damage. Still, spending the night like this must have been damn uncomfortable. I didn't feel sorry for her in the least, especially not since I had witnessed what a sweet-talking viper she could be when she deemed it necessary. If she ever got through law school, about which there wasn't much doubt, this highly functioning psycho would have all tools necessary in her possession to wreak havoc on the lives of many people.
I placed the broad, thick leather collar around her slender neck. She jerked, surprised, and tried to turn her head to me.
"Hey, what are you doing Jennifer??"
"I know it feels weird", I apologized while I adjusted and then slowly tightened the collar, "but I'm kind of scared of you." I made it sound like admitting my anxiety was hard for me. "I'm going to unchain you in a few seconds, right? But as a small reinsurance, would it be okay if you wear this at least? Just for as long as we need to talk this through."
"Sure... I guess..." She wasn't happy about it. But she accepted, of course, because wearing an uncomfortable collar seemed to be the lesser of two evils. She was caught in her role: No sane, rational person would NOT have traded the chains for the collar.
I made sure the collar was set tightly around her neck. It was so high and broad that it had to feel very heavy and weird around her throat, more a neck-corset than a usual collar in fact. I locked the small buckle on the back and then made Hannah bow forward.
I was anxious. I was excited, my stomach cramped and my nipples still hard and my mouth dry as hell. "Okay, let's free your ankles first", I said. Unlocking the chains I saw that they had made impressions in her skin there, but had not chafed it. I put the chains away and Hannah sounded a little relieved. I grabbed her left ankle and began bending her leg, toppling her forward.
It wasn't a hard drop, since she had been bowed forward so far already. Still she produced a slightly confused shriek as her body and face were pushed against the ground. I acted fast, took the first of the items I needed to put on her from the bag and wrapped it around her leg. It was a sheath, made from soft leather and rubber, masterly crafted. Its purpose would be to strap Hannahs' leg into a folded position, effectively 'stumping' it. Since it had been made by someone who knew scarily well what he was doing, the item went around her thigh and lower leg easily and, as I pulled the straps, forced them together without a problem. Hannahs' heel was pushed against her ass in the process.
She was not enthusiastic about this.
"Agh... hey, what the fuck...?!" With the collar around her head it was impossible for her to look backwards to me, but she tried hard. "What are you doing??"
I didn't answer. Instead I grabbed her other ankle, used my good position behind and above Hannah to bend that leg into the desired position as well and quickly slipped another sheath around it. She realized now that this could not be a misunderstanding, that instead I had lulled and tricked her, and she roared in anger. "YOU FUCKING BITCH; WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH ME?"
I had already stumped that leg like the first one, and now she was lying flat on her belly with her knees pointing downward while her heels were forced against her ass. I sat down on her butt to pin her down and grabbed her still-chained arms.
"What do you think I'm doing, Hannah?", I said with my mouth close to her left hear from behind. I was horny. I didn't understand where the fuck that came from, but I was so horny that I felt like I was going to explode. "Proving that you aren't as clever as you think you are."
She roared again in anger, and as I unchained one of her wrists she tried to lash out, scratch me or punch me, push me away if necessary. But I was in an excellent position and her other hand was still uselessly cuffed, and so it was not too hard to bend this arm into the position I needed it in: Grabbing her sweaty forearms I forced Hannahs' hand against her shoulder, folding the arm just like I had folded her legs. I pulled another sheath - smaller and designed exactly for that limb- around it. Hannah fought with all her strength but had no means to stop me as I pulled the straps tight and buckled them.
"This is too tight you asshole! Stop it!"
"No." I took the fourth of the sheaths from the bag. I readied myself, then released Hannahs' left hand. Immediately she tried to pull it away and prevent me from stumping it. We struggled with each other. I was on the winning side. I forced her arm into the position I needed it to be in and slipped the sheath over it.
"Who... wait, who gave this to you?" There was shock in Hannahs' voice. That made me curious because, even in this situation, it was unexpected from her. She had not taken me seriously all the way since we had met each other for the first time, not even when she had been chained in my basement. Now, for the first time at all, there was real fear in her voice. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS?"
"I do", I nodded. I could hear myself *snarling*. This was a power-rush like I had never felt it before. When her arms were bound all she could still do was flap her stumped limbs weakly, lying flat on her belly beneath me. "It's the ultimate solution to find out which one of us really is a bitch."
"No, no no no you don't understand, wait, I know there's also a gag waiting for me, but please wait...!" Hannah was talking fast now, and this time I didn't think she was faking anything. She still tried desperately to turn her head and see what I was doing behind/above her, but the collar was too strict.
"Okay", I said. "I'm listening."
"This setup... this bondage, this doesn't come from you, right? Someone must have given it to you, and I know only one person who cghh...ghhuuuggghhhh!!!"
I had tricked her again - had let her talk for a moment and then, when she didn't suspect it, had shoved the gag into her mouth from behind.
That gag was a curious thing: Even though I knew a bit about bdsm and had seen some different sorts of gags over the years, I had never seen anything like it. It was shaped more or less like a ballgag (and I had already had those in my mouth myself on occasion) but then again more like a mouthpiece that was designed to be at least semi-comfortable over longer periods of time. I had put it in my own mouth only half an hour ago, for testing purposes.
I had quickly realized how wicked this gag was: My teeth had slipped into designated rubber grooves, the thick material itself had blocked my jaws and of course had made talking impossible. But after a moment I had realized that the material at the same time was soft enough so that I could 'chew' on it, compress it and work with it. That didn't mean that I would ever be able to speak with the thing lodged between my jaws of course - it just meant that I could wear it for hours or days because, uncomfortable as the thing might be, it would never cause the kind of cramps any ring-gag or ballgag would.
Now Hannah made the same kind of experience that I had made 30 minutes in the past. Just that I had been able to remove the gag from my mouth - since I was able to simply oull it out with my fingers again - whereas she was fighting hard against it with no effect whatsoever.
"There's a hole in the middle", I told the grunting, cursing girl as I kept pinning her down. "I know your tongue is in the way so that you can hardly breathe. Just push it through the hole and all is going to be fine."
She followed my advice, out of sheer desperation. The small tip of her pink tongue came through the black rubber, dangling down a little. She inhaled wheezing and produced another choking noise right after that. But I knew it was an act now, and that she could breathe just fine. I did not even feel the weakest impulse to take the gag out of her mouth again.
Instead I made sure that under no circumstances would she be able to spit it out: I led the straps of the head harness around her head, across her face and beneath her chin and strapped them one by one while she still tried to fight me, to turn her head away, to prevent me from finishing what I had begun. With her nostrils flaring and drool dripping from her tongue Hannah had to endure it, if she wanted or not.
I got off her when I could be sure that she was as helpless as a newborn puppy. She rolled to her side when my weight didn't keep her pinned down any longer and flailed around with her useless stumped arms and legs. It didn't help her at all: The sheaths - made from combination of soft leather and rubber and obviously designed very professionally by some mad genius who had put a *lot* of thought into this - held her limbs, feet and hands in their uselessly compressed, folded positions and allowed only for the small bit of wiggle room that would make sure that circulation was sustained.
Hannah looked remarkably silly like this, and the noises she produced, in combination with her pink tongue lolling from her mouth, made this even more enjoyable for me. The transformation was astonishing and I began to understand why someone had designed this outfit for her: It was the perfect combination of restraints and degradation and robbed her of any chance to be as threatening, charming, enchanting or poisonous as she enjoyed to be.
"I'm not even done yet", I told her, while she stared at me with those round blue eyes and gargled strange noises into the gag that might have been curses. I took the other items from the bag: There was a suit that would complete her encasement and a mask that would cover most of her head and hide her face while giving her a debatably canine look. There was a leash. And there was a fairly large buttplug with a short doggy tail on its outside.
She freaked out when she saw it. But her protests were unintelligible and fruitless. I grabbed her, rolled her to me and pushed her to the ground with one hand. When she didn't stop protesting and fighting I hit her ass so hard with one hand that the *SMACK* rang back from the walls.
She wailed in pain. I tore her panties off her because dogs clearly should not wear that kind of shit and I had hated them from the moment I had first laid my eyes on them anyways. I was thrilled and grimly euphoric, energized and a little power drunk. What I did was sadistic, but I enjoyed it relentlessly.
"You *have* contacts built into that collar, and I can administer electroshocks at any given time", I told Hannah. "And I guess that I *will* do it sooner or later." I showed her the bracelet that could be used to remote control the collar and clipped it to my left wrist. "But if you stop bitching around, then I won't have a reason to shock your ass *right now*."
She pulled herself together. I could see it was tough, even for Hannah Gehringer. What was happening shocked her and tore down her defenses, and she wasn't capable of playing a role anymore: This was her naked, bare self, and she was truly worried.
But at least she didn't fight me anymore. I could throw the suit over her bag and strap it to her body, essentially putting her into a strict corset that pressed her small, perky tits through openings and left her crotch and butt crack naked. The rest of her skin was covered in the dark material now. There were small laces and rings by which the bodysuit could be connected to her arm- and leg-sheaths and the collar. She moaned and groaned while I tightened the outfit into a more and more rigid encasement. Only when I took the hood in my hands did she try to protest again.
"What do you think you're going to achieve with that kind of gibberish?" I grabbed her head, slipped the hood over her head and began fastening it. Hannahs' wide, blue dolls eyes - the ones that had enchanted and possible fucked up so many innocent boys - were now visible only through the eye-holes in the dark leather-mask. Her gagged mouth was hidden beneath a kind of 'snout'. She shook her head, helpless and utterly degraded, and looked more like an impatient puppy than ever before. The fact that her mask was open right beneath the snout, so that her pink, lolling tongue was still visible, was just priceless.
The bitch was ready. It was time to go for a walk.
VII (added: 2015/07/03)
I had talked with Pete about what I was supposed to do and how it was supposed to work. "I can't give you a definitive answer about what I expect from you", he had said. "I can't explain to you how I wish for Hannah to turn out. She is *yours* now. The training of slaves is a difficult craft because there is not 'the one right way' to do it: Every human is different and reacts differently to pain, humiliation, fear or anger. Every Master or Mistress aims for a unique kind of end result. What result do *you* aim for, Jennifer?"
Looking down at Hannahs' restrained, bizarre shape I still wasn't sure about that. What result did I aim for? What I was sure about was that it was too late to go back now. I activated the wristband and heard a weak humming noise from Hannahs' collar as it began to load up. She produced a whining noise and frantically began to struggle with her restraints once more.
"Calm down, it's fine. You're not getting shocked as long as you are a good doggie", I explained to her. She kept making frantic, unintelligible noises but at least stopped her fruitless struggling for the moment. I continued: "I want you to obey my orders. If you do that we're going to get along just fine. Do you understand that?"
She made a noise that sounded a lot like a girl with a cruel gag in her mouth trying to say 'yes', so I administered a weak shock that made her yelp. "I don't want you to do that, for example", I said. "Don't try to talk like a human. If you want to say 'yes' you bark once."
She looked up to me, which was hard for her because of those strict restraints and because of the collar, and her blue eyes were flowing over with hate. Drool dripped from her lolling tongue while she stared at me and then, just as I already put the finger back on my wristband, she barked once. It wasn't a real bark of course, but it came close enough - a coughing, gagged noise, filled with disgust and anger. I let it pass and nodded. I grabbed the butt-plug with the short, fluffy tail as a counterweight. I approached and she shuddered and began to complain again. So I, again, let her collar hum softly. Hannah got the message and stood still, and I could place the plug against her ass and begin pushing it into her.
I had no idea if the girl had ever been fucked in the ass before, but she definitely rolled her eyes like someone who had not yet made that experience. Or maybe it was because this wasn't really a *small* plug. But it went in good enough, set firmly the way it was supposed to be. Hannah exhaled audibly, her eyes still wide, her body under a new kind of tension. I couldn't help myself, I just *had* to grin as I pulled the crotch-strap around, secured the plug and let the padded part of the strap sink in between her cuntlips. The way she looked straight ahead in this weird, introspective way... the things Pete had said and her reaction to the suit...
"You've used this stuff on other girls before, haven't you? Or at least stuff like this, if it wasn't the same."
She tried to nod. Gleefully, I zapped her.
"Gh...ghouagh!" This had been as close to a bark as possible for her, so I nodded.
"So that's why you look like that. You've never tried anything like thison, but you've put it on others. And is it fun now? Does it feel the way you expected it to feel?"
No answer, so I zapped her again. First she squealed, then she gave two barks, shaky and resentful. Her ass quivered, still trying to get used to the plug. I hooked the leash to her collar and stood up again.
"Well, you're going to get it to know good and proper. Let's go."
She tried - I have to give her that. But 'walking' in the suit had to be fucking hard, putting strain on her muscles in a way the human body was not used to. Hannah wobbled one step on her stumped limbs, then another step, and then, with a complaining shriek, just fell on her side. She flapped around with her folded arms and legs and was lost in her fury for a moment. Then, as I zapped her again, she yelped, twitched, tried to scream insults at me.
Somehow this turned out to be the exact moment in which I found out what kind of a trainer I was: I felt just the tiniest bit of sympathy for her, and going to my knees in front of her I told Hannah, calmly: "Listen, bitch. This isn't one of those lame-ass lectures you used to attend until you knew barely enough of the curriculum to somehow cheat your way through the course." She blinked as I continued. "This isn't your expensive fucking fitness studio either, and I'm not your personal trainer. There is no way out of this for you. There is no way around this for you. I own your ass, and you are nothing than a fucking *dog* to me, and if you think you can just say *this is too hard* and give up, and that I would accept that, then you completely misunderstand the severity of this fucked-up situation you've gotten both of us into."
I stood up, fingers on the wristband.
"Now sit! Or I swear to God I will just destroy you."
She tried to get into the sitting position. I zapped her when it became clear she didn't move fast enough and was testing my determination. She screamed again. Then she came into a weird, crouching position that was close enough to how a dog would 'sit'. She was already trembling from the effort and she was growling under her breath, so filled with hate that it spilled over.
"Good. Now get on all fours."
She did, with a lot of effort. Moaning, the bondage and restraints that held her creaking, she balanced back into that position. She had acted fast enough and didn't get zapped again for now.
"Good. And now you follow me, stay at my heel, or I will punish you again."
I walked very slow, but still this proved to be a lot harder for Hannah. I heard her panting and wheezing as she forced herself forward on wobbly 'legs'. I only turned around after maybe ten steps, as we arrived the cell door.
Seeing Hannahs' outfit in action was fascinating: It had to be hellishly confining, but on the other hand did not seem to crush her. As she moved her elbows and knees were protected by the heavily padded material. The limbs also could strain and work inside their bondage just enough so that I was pretty sure they wouldn't be hurt permanently. The suit would not cut off the circulation to Hannahs' limbs, which was maybe the cruelest feat this fine piece of craftsmanship possessed: Releasing a victim from this degrading outfit was not necessary! Maybe it would not even be strictly *necessary* even after a girl had spent days or weeks inside the bitch suit.
"Go on girl, you go on", I said to Hannah as she struggled forward. I watched her reach the corridor. There she halted, leaning against the wall with her side. Her flanks where moving rapidly, her breathing very fast now. Her tongue disappeared for a moment, and then she pushed it back out, drooling even more than before. She looked at me pleadingly, and what I could see of her face - essentially just the skin right around her pretty blue eyes - was covered by droplets of sweat.
"Go on", I repeated. I knew I sounded stern. That was because this made me more aroused than I would ever have anticipated, because the power I had over this bitch was the strongest kind of rush I had ever felt. I did not want this feeling to stop. But more than just that my newfound sternness came from another source as well: I was riding on a wave, trusting my intuition on how to handle my prisoner. And my intuition told me that it was much too early to show any kind of mercy. "Did you hear what I said, bitch? Walk towards that door. It will lead to the backyard of the house. Maybe someone sees you and tells the cops. Do you want to waste that opportunity?"
Hannah blinked, confused and suspicious. I smiled as she got moving again, awkwardly and slowly wobbling towards the door. I had not lied: The steep ramp did lead out of the basement and to the back of the house. But that didn't mean that anyone would ever see her here: No one visited this place anymore and the large yard behind the house was overgrown with vegetation, surrounded by hedges and secured with a rotten but pretty high fence you couldn't see through. I could as well have allowed the puppy to take a walk on the back of the moon.
But at least my words had motivated her enough to cope with the burden of her bondage for long enough to actually reach the exit. I opened the door and Hannah blinked when daylight fell on her. She moaned, shivered, looked up at me and yelped when I zapped her again.
"Stop with the pleading and the goggling, you fucking psychopath", I told her. "It's not going to help you. Just get the fuck going, like a good doggy."
She did, but even more slowly than before. Reaching the yard I could see the disappointment in her eyes and the degradation she felt, standing outside in the bitchsuit, her firm small tits hanging from the holes in her outfit, the drool and sweat dripping down on the muddy ground beneath her. She swallowed hard as I clipped the leash to her collar and she coughed and complained again as I jerked the leash.
"Ouuuogh..AAACK!" I had administered a slightly more painful shock this time, because her attitude was really beginning to piss me off. She was slightly cross-eyed now and I suspected that the collar, administering the shocks so close to her brain, might not be a real help for her orientation, concentration or the general well-being of her frontal lobes, but what the fuck did I care? Maybe her attitude would improve once her brain had been cooked a bit.
"Stop fucking complaining, or I will piss in a damn bowl and have you drink it after we are done, Hannah." I would not have done that, frankly. But she seemed to believe it and followed me, clumsily and panting, as I slowly led her across the whole yard. She fought with every step, soon smelling like a girl baking in sweaty lather is prone to be, and she sobbed a few times. I didn't know for sure if these sobs were genuine or not, but for each one of them she got zapped again.
Despite her bad condition her tail kept waving joyfully with every step. It was a pleasure to behold.
VIII (added: 2015/07/03)
As I brought Hannah back to the basement it was already evening again. She had spent the second half of the day completely in the bitch suit and was accordingly exhausted, but after a pause she had managed - with my 'help' and some additional zaps - to crawl back into her cell. Her eyelids seemed to be very heavy by now, her movements were even slower than before. The worst part for me was bringing her to sit above the cat toilet that I had brought down here, removing the crotch strap and pulling the plug out of her ass so that she could piss and do a number two as well. But in the end it was easier than I thought, managing that part of it all. Definitely not *harder* than torturing and 'training' a kidnapped girl, just a less *enjoyable*. But wasn't I going to get paid very well for all my troubles?
Once she was done I put the crotch-strap where it belonged. The spot had been a bit wet from the unwanted stimulation when I had removed the strap, and the leather itself was still damp now that I put it back in its place. I also pushed the plug back into her asshole, causing her to protest astonishingly loud if you took her exhausted state into account. I had waited for that: I decided that I would ungag her for a last time.
I let the loosened mouthpiece hang just at chin level and waited until she had finished coughing and flexing her jaws. Then I asked her if she had anything to say.
"Just that..." Her voice was very raspy. "Just that I learned my fucking lesson... I won't do this again. I won't do *anything* to you... just want to go home and sleep in my own fucking bed. And not have that huge rubbercock in my arse anymore..."
"I believe you that you want that, but you are not going to get it", I said with a shrug. "I'm getting paid a lot of money to train you, and guess whose family is going to get a huge part of that."
"You're getting paid by my *uncle*", Hannah protested. "You are getting paid by a fucking psychopath, and that psychopath is a relative of me! This is fucking sick!"
That was a new information for me. "Is he your Dad's brother? Or your Mum's?"
"No, just... my aunts' first husband. He used to own a company, but sold it. He just has a farm now, and a huge bank account, and he taught me... hell, shit, what do you care? Don't you understand... you're doing this for a shithead who is my relative! You may think this is funny, but he's done this to others as well!"
"He's not going to tell you to release me!"
"I know." I nodded.
"He will do it to you as well, as soon as he gets the chance. We are both girls... we just..." She struggled for the right words, the panic in her voice growing. "We gotta help each other!"
I shook my head, frankly a little disappointed that this was the best she could do."First of all: No, he won't. Second: No, we don't."
"Listen, you... argh, listen: I have money myself. If he pays you I can pay more, and I can..."
I patted Hannah's head, causing those flappy fake rubber ears of hers to wobble in a funny way. It was impossible to take her serious anymore. "You know that you can't buy yourself out of this. I have other reasons than *just* money, to do this to you. Even if you had more money than your uncle, I might still rather work for him, Hannah."
She strained against the suit and belts that held her in it, shivering in frustration. Her voice became shriller as she began to realize that there was no way to get out, no way to turn things to her advantage or persuade me. And she realized that her whole life was at stake. "Someone will find me! The cops will be looking for me and someone will find out where I am and they will *bust your fucking ass you bitch*!"
I shook my head. "You can't have a polite discussion for more than thirty seconds, can you? Well, that's a shame because this was the last discussion you and I will ever have had."
"No! Wait! My arms are *killing* me, this fucking suit is *killing* me, and you can't do this to *me* anyways! Don't you see that? Listen, we can work this out. I'm not supposed to be here, I'm Hann...ggghh...gghuuoogh...gghuaaagh!...!"
I had forced the ring-part of her gar back in and already secured it. She tried to curse me, tried to scream and tried to hit me with her stumped arms. It was surreal and hilarious. I found that I had slipped into this role like one would slip into a custom-made glove. And I felt hotter than I had ever before in my life.
"Here is water for you", I told Hannah and filled a bowl for her. "And here is food." Brown mush - a special mixture that had come in a big bag inside that crate - went into the second bowl. She would be able to eat both, with her mouth not blocked by a mouthpiece anymore and the ring gag semi-soft. Seeing the brown mush obviously distressed her immensely and I suspected she had fed that shit to other girls over the years. But if she didn't want to starve she would have to eat it. And I could be sure that she would be very hungry by now.
"Oh by the way", I told her as she stared on the bowls with her wide, blue eyes, that had once enchanted so many ill-fated boys. "I can't call you Hannah and it would be silly to call you 'puppy' as well. Your new name is 'Blues'."
Judging from her reaction, Blues didn't seem to like the ring of that name either. I left a wailing, whining, *screaming* creature that freaked out like I had never seen any other animal freak out before.
Back in the house I showered and ate lunch and then called Pete. I told him about how the day had been and he listened carefully.
"Do you know how different you sound?", he asked me curiously when I had finished. "It's pretty remarkable."
"I'm still *me* - just trying to keep my head above water."
"Jennifer, there is no need to be so defensive. I wasn't going to belittle you. I just find the change remarkable because I'm pretty sure that I was just like you some years ago."
"Who was the guy who taught you this 'art'?", I asked. And then, I deliberately added: "Was he Hannah's uncle?"
"Ah, you gave her an opportunity to speak." Pete didn't sound so surprised. "Yes, it was indeed her uncle. I was very young and I worked as a photographer. I had teamed up with an investigative journalist. Her name was Miriam and I was into her, but I guess that Miriam never realized that. She was all about the next story and the next scandal. I was 'the guy with the camera', harmless and stranded deep in the friendzone. When Miriam decided that she wanted to go undercover to expose a slave trader operation she got in too far."
"Was that an operation of Hannah's uncle?"
"Oh no. He was associated with these people, bit it wasn't *his* operation. He is clever and mostly stays in the background when it comes to such things."
"How die Miriam get into it too far? Did you rat her out?"
I regretted using that term immediately, but there didn't seem to be a reason. Pete sounded as sober as ever when he answered. "Yes, I kind of did. Suddenly I had her in my hands, in a cruel training suit and the most restrictive restraints you can imagine. I had a bad conscience for a while and I came pretty close to letting her go. But Hannahs' uncle found me and talked to me about these things, and in the end I became his apprentice."
"Where is your friend Miriam now?"
"Oh, in a very safe place. Some very specialized machines and a friend of mine care for her until I can visit her again. I still love her, just in a... in a different way I guess."
"She must be thrilled to know that", I said sarcastically. Pete laughed, and to my astonishment I was suddenly laughing too. Not the evil laugh of a comic villain by the way - we were just a guy and a girl on the phone, getting rid of some tension through the use of dark sarcasm. Was I supposed to have a bad conscience? Whoever Miriam was, after all I had never met her, had no way to judge Peter for what he had done to her. Was it wrong to accept that she had been 'changed', just as I would change Hannah?
"What do I do next?", I asked Pete.
"You take your time. If you want you can install the cameras that you found in the crate - they are part of a high quality surveillance system and will send life feeds to me via an encrypted frequency. I will be able to hear you and see you, and I can give advice. But if you don't want that - just don't install them. It's your choice."
"I will think about it. How much time do I have to train Hannah? Is there a deadline?"
Pete mused for a moment. "Breaking someone like Hannah won't be easy and you are an inexperienced trainer. Don't get me wrong, I was honest when I said you are doing fine. But still, Hannah is tough. So let us do it like this: You get the next ten grand when *you* say you have achieved something, and when you invite me for a demonstration."
That was a thrilling idea. I was in fact very interested to meet Pete in person.
"It's a deal", I said and nodded. "And I promise that I won't rush things. When you visit, you are going to see something that impresses you."
IX (Hannah's Viewpoint) (added: 2015/12/22)
I will not end like this! This stuff is tight, but if I work hard enough I will get out of this, you can't keep me like this, and I won't let you... ouch!
Dammit, I feel like shit and I CANNOT walk like this, don't you get it? Just look at me and... hey I said look at me! Ouch! Look at me and... ouch! Shit stop this you fucking.... AAARRRRGH! No, I am not obeying your fucking orders, I am not a dog! What are you going to do if I don't play along? You can't shock me all fucking... ouch, hey, OUCH, stop this, AAARGH.... eat shit and die, I am not going to. Submit to your fucking OUCH... HRRRGH, oh my God okay, okay, I am coming, fine! Woof, yes I am barking for you, if it makes you happy. Woof, okay?
All I need to do is play along. They are going to find me, and all I gotta do is play along with this motherfucking bullshit until they do. I just need to survive, that's all, and stay sane. She's not going to win, she's not going to... OUCH yes woof, I am coming, woof woof fucking woof, yes I'm barking, hear?
Crazy fucking bitch... I need to sleep, need to rest and recover a little... just a little and once I'm out of this you'll suffer, I'll make you... OUCH, okay okay I can't go any faster, stop this... fuck you, stop shocking me, yes YES I bark for you, woof, okay?
When I get out of this I'm going to... oh God I'm so tired, come on, I'm a human being, this is fucking cruel, I hate you so much... I'm thirsty... fuck how can you do this to me, don't you know I'll make you pay for... oh no, no God no please not another round I can't go another fucking round! Not another goddamn round I need to drink something and catch my fucking breath, listen to me... OUCH! Ouch! Woof! Okay, okay stop this, WOOF!
The cops must know she did it. Someone must have seen the car, or someone found DNA on the street or something like that. They will find me, they will get me out of this, definitely, and I can't wait for them bursting in here and stuffing her punk ass into one of their cars and bashing her skull in I can't wait for... OUCH, okay I'm following you, okay? OUCH, yes, bark, I am coming, woof, okay?
Is this... day three? What, I have been doing this for three ... or four... days?? At least look at me. At least fucking look at me! Look at me, I am a fucking human being, don't keep looking somewhere else when you order me around! Can you please just... AARRRRGH that fucking collar, fucking electroshocks, see I am at your heel, I'm a good doggy, now fucking stop this you're frying my brain!
New morning again... so tired, and cold... did I sleep? Please wait, I can't get up, feel so stiff... ouch, shit, okay yes woofwoofwoof, see I'm moving, it's fine, I'm moving! I CAN get up but for God's sake please... UUUUGHyeah..WOOF, I'm... woof, woof, I'm answering you, I'm following, okay!
So tired, oh my God my arms ache... no please not again... trying my best, see? Just not another shock, please. Please no... You ask me a question and I'm barking yes, hear? I'm barking like a good doggy just please look at me at least, look at me you fucking bitch, I'm barking, okay??
The cops... can't wait for them... fuck you bitch, once they are here you'll suffer, I'll... I'll...
How many days now? Six... six? Oh God how many days...?
So thirsty... short break, water... and another round but I can't do another round, I think I'm dying... stink like a dog, so hungry, thirsty, my mouth so dry, tongue dangling... weird memories, how long have I been here?
Is this more than a week now? More than a whole week!? Smell so bad, feel so bad... Woof, yes Miss, woof... I know every patch of grass, every stone... eyes front, always eyes front... woof yes okay, another round, bark, woof, yesyes but don't shock me, oh God I'm so fucking exhausted... you'll pay for this, I will pay them to rape you, pay them to kill you... OUCH woof, okay, fuck woof...fone? Woof.
The cops will come. Just play along. Play along.
How long now? Barking yes, getting up, another round. Short break, some water... she looks into my eyes, good! Thanks, yes I am here, okay, barking. Nodding... OUCH no nodding, stop nodding, only humans nod, you are not allowed to nod... bark instead, and yes she's happy with me, thank God... compliments me, I am a good doggy... woof. I'm learning... less shocks now, because I am good, oh thank God...
Follow, heel in front of me, faster now, another round, okay. A break, thank God, barking, drink drink drink fast, she wants me to walk another round. So tired, drooly, arms hurt still... exhausted, hate the bitch, woof once I'm... once I'm out of, oh thanks, bark, water is good, I feel so tired are we done now? Pats my back, is nice to me, oh thanks, yes I'm good, patting back feels good, so tired... woof, are we done, woof? We are done, oh thanks sleep woof yes I'm in the kennel again, oh thanks for sleep.
New morning. Wake up, she's here, bark. Woof. She looks at me, good day! Bark, eat, drink, she looks at me, pats my back, gives me a small piece of chocolate... woof, so tasty! Bark, she smiles, I am a good doggy, no shock but a pat on the back and she is so happy with me...
My god no stopitstpitstopit whattheFUCK is wrong with me, am I fucking retarded? Snap out of this, snap out of this, just play along until they find you, and stop being happy when... woof... when the fucking bitch pats your back!
LET ME GO YOU FUCKING PUNK COCKSUCKER!
OUCH, oh God, ouch, stop it, I didn't want to freak out, stop please, woof, woof, woof!
Follow, yes I follow but I won't forget... oh the track is different, new obstacles, new rounds... hard training, sweating so much, drooling so much, I'm so tired, thinkthinkthink how long have I been here? Concentrate and.... Try to... woof, yes, follow, heel, sit, woof... another round, she's in a good mood today, patting my back, bark, chocolate thank you... stopitstopitstopit stop being happy when she looks at you IM NOT A FUCKING DOG!
New morning, get up, bark, greet Mistress, be nice, obey. Chocolate for me, a pat on the back for me, being cleaned with a sponge, oh nice, woof, thanks, so happy. Less training, just going for a walk, feels good, oh thank god, this is a nice day. Mistress talking to me, bark, woof, yes Mistress, okay. Woof. Some training? Okay, woof, why not. Nice sunny day, training in the sun, good doggy. Eat, woof, sleep, woof, and obey and be a good doggy, it's so much easier that way.
So easy now, keep barking, obey rules and be good.
They are going to find me and... ARGH woof, WOOF!
So tired... woof...
X (added: 2015/12/22)
In the morning after my conversation with Peter, when I unlocked her cell in the basement, she did what I had expected: She protested against her captivity with new vigor and loud screams, struggling within the bitch suit like a madwoman. I had decided that I needed to be especially tough in dealing with her and that I could not show her any kind of mercy - or she would inevitably see that as weakness. I could not allow her to feel any hope whatsoever.
So I activated her shock collar on the highest setting and made her fall on her side, convulse and twitch for a few seconds as the current shot through her flesh and nerves.
When she had recovered a little I ordered her to sit. She disobeyed and gargled senseless bullshit into her gag again, cursing me and protesting. So I shocked her once more, just as painful as the first time but for a second longer. And then again. And more often after that.
I couldn't blame Hannah for her resistance. In fact I understood her very well: She knew that this was neither a joke nor a misunderstanding. I was planning to keep her in the bitch suit and I was going to break her, turn her into a dehumanized crfeature, less than a human. She had seen it happen to other girls, had done it herself to some. Playing along, thus, wasn't an option from her perspective. She knew that when a victim played along they accepted what was being done to them, and the 'play' became something permanent, and suddenly the person wasn't playing a role anymore, at all.
So Hannah didn't want to get into that sort of mindset. She wanted to resist and get concessions from me. In short: She wanted to show me that she was stronger.
So, to prove that I wasn't going to take shit from her, for every small sign of rebellion I punished her severely. She didn't obey a direct command? That meant a major shock, for at least some seconds. Tried to obey but wasn't fast enough with it? Another shock, maybe not as painful as the major ones. She didn't answer any of my rhetoric questions with a barking noise or a woof? You bet that every single time she didn't give me a 'woof' another painful zap hit her through the collar and her plug.
And I never looked her in the eyes even for a second.
I would have been afraid that I might kill her if Pete had not assured me that the collar could never kill a human - that it had been especially designed to activate the pain receptors in the most effective way, without much actual current being needed. So, since I trusted Pete, I shocked the shit out of Hannah relentlessly.
She was just tough, but she wasn't invincible. After several hours, the pain eventually got to her. Around noon I realized that I did not have to administer as many zaps as before: She woofed and barked now, for example when I said things like "Come girl, get over here", or "Sit and catch your breath for a moment." She came then, with hate in her eyes and foam on her snout, biting hard on the gag.
Those small signs of her weakening determination were all I got during the first day, but they were enough to infuse me with some hope. I became more and more determined to keep pursuing my strategy and show her that she would have no other chance then to adjust.
The second day was much like the first, but by now Hannah was at least a little more motivated to follow my commands: I had only granted her about five hours sleep. Being stuck in the heavy bondage was getting to her and she was stinking, hurting, tired, devastated. I imagine how it had to feel: Being caught in that hot, tight bitch suit, sweaty and restrained, muscles aching, drool seeping through the gag with still the foul taste of the mush that she'd been fed on her tongue. She could only see the world through the eyeholes in her mask, could only move by using her muscles in ways she had never used them before. The buttplug and wagging tail had to be immensely irritating, and maybe even more so the crotch-strap with those nobs that permanently dug themselves between her cuntlips.
Part of me wished that I knew what that strap did to her: Every time I loosened it in order to let my bitch do her business, her cunt was moist and her clit swollen. I assumed it was just due to mechanical causes - the stimulation provided by the strap and the plug in her ass. But I couldn't ask Hannah, and so I kept wondering for the first days while I relentlessly trained and punished her.
During the following days, while Hannahs' face was all over the news, smiling at me from my tv screen, grinning and waving from the pages of newspapers when I drove to the village to buy supplies, I concentrated on the milestones I had decided upon: After three days the bitch was supposed to obey all my general commands, after five days I expected her to have internalized when and how she had to bark. After fifteen days I hoped she would be fit enough to pass a simple obstacle course and after a month I hoped she'd be able to move on the bitch suit as if she'd never spent a young womans' life on her feet.
Hannah did not know about those milestones of course, and I'm pretty sure that after a few days she had completely lost track of time anyways. Every few days I used the small kit that Pete had provided me with: I drugged her with an ether-soaked rag, injected her with a longer lasting drug, freed her from the suit and cleaned her while she was unconscious. Waking up, she would find herself in the suit still/again. The realization of what I had done made her wail and protest like a madwoman, which only earned her some more zaps.
"Especially the love deprivation gets to her", I told Pete on the phone after fourteen days. "The fact that I never look her in the eyes makes her crazy. She's really beginning to freak out and trying to get my attention at all costs." Since Pete didn't understand what I was talking about I explained: "I had the idea when I was lying awake on my bed, right after I had promised you that I would find a way to impress you. I tried to devise a plan and I formulated some milestones, like I thought an experienced trainer would.
He giggled and I, consequently, told him to go fuck himself. But I smiled too. "Don't you laugh about me, I'm doing this shit for the first time in my life! Anyhow, I asked myself why dogs are so crazy about humans petting and praising them. I realized that dogs live in a small world, kind of. They are very dependent on their owners, they need their approval. I figured that a human who is held by a single captor will on some level want to be consoled. I figured that even a psycho like Hannah would begin to long for that kind of human feedback."
Pete didn't laugh anymore. He sounded impressed now. "I told you that you have a knack for this. 'Love deprivation', eh? It's not that different from the things some of us do. Stockholm Syndrome is a very real thing and you can use it as a tool in the process of break someone. But never trust your slave, never think you can free her. Never let your guard down."
"Did you ever let your guard down with MissBehavoiur?"
"Kind of. Well not in a physical sense. I wouldn't be so stupid to free a woman I kidnapped and enslaved and just hope that she'd not rat me out, like a na´ve fool. No, but I once dreamed of communicating with Miri..." He quickly corrected himself. "With MissBehaviour, I mean. She had already been a rubberdoll for about a year and I was desperate to hear her voice. I wanted to find out what her opinion was about what I had done to her. Let's just say that it didn't go very well. She will never again in her life get a chance to speak to any human being."
I nodded, feeling curiously dispassionate about that woman and her fate. "Well, I'm Hannahs' only attachment figure - the first person she sees in the morning, the last she sees before she gets blindfolded and locked in again. Fuck, I'm the *only* person who knows where she is and what is being done to her. In a way we are accomplices. It's a pretty sick relationship."
"You said she's beginning to freak out. How does that show?"
I smiled. "She's fighting for my attention. She barks much more eagerly now, she always tries to see if I'm looking at her. She makes attempts to have me look into her eyes and she gets really frustrated when I don't. Today I may have looked directly in her eyes just twice... yeah, I'm sure I did it only twice. The first time was when she mastered the obstacle course really fast and the second was when I told her to sit. She obeyed without thinking this time, and she obeyed really quickly. Both were remarkable steps forward, so I figured they warranted that I showed her some..."
"Love?" Peter laughed under his breath.
"Well, feedback. I wouldn't say I'm in 'love' with Hannah and she's definitely not in love with me."
"By the way, you should stop calling her by her human name", Pete advised. "They should never be allowed to keep their old names. For once it will always remind them of what they were before, in their old lives. It gets in the way of breaking them for good, allows them to keep of remnant of their old self. The other reason is that you want to show other Owners that you know the trade. People in our circles will only respect you if they see you act like a pro. And a pro wipes all trails that could help someone track a pet down."
After our conversation, watching the news, I thought about what Pete had said. Meanwhile Hannah's face was once again on every channel: A young, promising student had disappeared without a trace. People were intrigued, shocked and pretty close to a panic. Why had there not been a ransom demand? Was a madman on the prey? Had one of her many ex-lovers murdered the girl? The media was chasing its own tail and getting nowhere. If the cops were as clueless as the reporters then truly no one would ever connect Hannahs' disappearance to me.
Those pictures and short clips from private videos were so weird: Hannah laughing into the camera, wearing the dark dress I'd first met her in. Hannah in a tank top, waving at the photographer. Hannah sitting on a couch, looking slightly stoned, smiling so very charming in the middle of all her upper-class-friends. No one could guess from those photos what a fucking asshole and dangerous psychopath this girl had been.
I began to find it hilarious what kind of absurd secrets you can hide from people, even in plain sight.
XI (added: 2016/03/09)
"We'll have to get you a new name", I told the bitch. It was noon on the following day and we had trained since early morning. She was again exhausted, but her stamina had improved a lot during the past weeks. She still wailed and groaned and complained, but she couldn't hide how much better she managed to cope with her bondage by now. I knew she'd be fine with some more hours of training in the afternoon, no matter how much she would protest or sob.
Right now she was lying next to me on the grass, panting heavily. As usual, her sweaty tits were protruding from the holes in her suit.
Her eyes widened while, naturally, the rest of her face, which was covered by the muzzle, stayed expressionless. She grunted and tried to protest the notion that she 'needed' a new name, but once I had administered a light zap, a silent shiver ran through her body and goosebumps appeared on her skin.
"I know that you'd prefer to keep your old name", I told her. "But you've to admit that no one seems to be coming to your rescue. You've been here for a long time already and I think it's time you accept that you'll be a bitch for the rest of your life. And I'm pretty sure you've re-named some people as well during your time as a sadistic control-freak and a sociopath."
There were tears in her eyes. This was the first time I saw her crying and it was priceless. She nearly choked on the gag, her throat worked hard. I knew what she was dying to know how longBut I didn't tell her. Instead I patted her head with a smile.
"I'll call you Bailey from now on. I like the ring of it. Do you like it too?"
She barked twice - which was technically allowed and didn't warrant a punishment. Barking twice meant 'no', and I had, after all, asked for her opinion.
"I'm sure you'll get used to it, Bailey.
She shivered and sobbed and I noticed to my astonishment that her nipples were hardening, their small pink areolas tightening a bit. I took one between thumb and forefinger, pinching it. Bailey groaned and tried to get on all fours and away from me, but I held her collar with my other hand. She had already been smaller than me when she still had been human, and now as a bitch had no chance left to fight me off.
"Stay, girl. What the fuck... it's definitely not cold enough for this. What's going on here?"
She groaned, lying flat on her back and struggling to turn around and get on all fours, flapping her useless arms and legs. I had to pinch that nipple really hard to get her attention.
"You're my dog, Bailey, you are *my* bitch. You know how I hate it when you try to get your way." I eyed her, suspicious. I let go of her nipple as she returned my glance fearfully. I placed the same hand in her crotch, where her pussy was essentially naked except, of course, for the strap that ran through it. Baileys cunt was damp again, which wasn't a surprise. Surprising was how she quirmed and immediately started to moisten up even more.
She saw in my face that I knew what was going on. She stared at me, more fearful than before. Her eyes - those large doll-eyes that had been such an important factor in Hannah Gehringers power over men - were nearly popping out of their sockets. Bailey didn't blink while I nestled my hand under the strap, but she jerked violently when I pinched her swollen clit.
The bitch was in heat. She was horny, aroused, hopelessly randy.
"You still want to murder me", I whispered. "But you also want to cum, don't you? This is how it begins. This is how you break. And you know that very fucking well."
She protested. For weeks now she had not had the guts to scream loudly and have me punish her for it, but now she didn't care anymore: She produced a roaring, choking, *despaired* scream that impressed me.
I didn't zap her. Instead I very slowly pushed two fingers into her pussy. I rested my thumb on her clit and began stroking it.
"Oh my God that must be hellish!" I grinned, my fingers in her tight, hot cunt. "You're not a sub. You've never been submissive and I doubt you'd hesitate one second to cut my throat if you got the chance. But still... this isn't so bad, is it?"
She barked a 'yes', desperate, hateful, drooling. She pushed her cunt against my hand and at the same time tried to crawl away from me. Her eyes were glassy. Here was a woman at breaking point, someone who was being driven insane by the stuff she had been forced to do and to endure. I still did not feel the slightest bit of empathy for her.
I kept Bailey in my grip, forced her to stay and released her from the strap that ran through between her cuntlips. That way I could stroke her easier. She mewled, kept pushing against me, sobbed some more.
By now I was aroused too. This was too delightful and too crazy to not make me horny. It was an utter victory I hadn't even seen coming today. I took my hand off her pussy, which made her groan in disappointment and I opened my jeans. "You eat me", I told her. "And after I've been satisfied, you'll get a chance to cum. Or you keep struggling" - which she did now that I showed her my smoothly shaved pussy - "and you'll be locked in your cell for the next three days, blindfolded and with your ears plugged. And I'll make sure your life is devoid of anything that even resembles an orgasm, but filled with a lot of hunger and cold and pain."
"Hghrrrrrrrrrh...!" That was her protest as I pushed her snout against my pussy. Beneath the cool leather were her soft, drool-smeared lips. She tried to turn away, producing a disgusted snorting noise, but I didn't let her. I must have half suffocated the bitch before finally she pushed her tongue through the ring gag.
The semi-soft ringgag she was living with had forced Bailey to train her tongue during the last weeks. She had learned to drink like a dog and to eat like a dog. In the process her tongue had gotten stronger and more skillful. Warm and slippery she worked it between my pussy lips, still choking and protesting. She found my clitoris and with a degraded, angry wail she began licking it.
I moaned under my breath and released Bailey a little from my grip, but just a little - I made sure that her nose was still pretty deep buried in my wetness. I let her smell me, kind of enjoyed how she kept gagging. I only needed a minute until I came and when I did it felt like the first orgasm I had ever had in my life, violent and crisp.
I didn't let her cum that day. I just locked her back in her cell and forced her to sleep with my smell on her snout and lips. As is lay on my bed exhausted I decided that from now on I'd make her eat me at least once a day. I was sure she could still get better at it and I was determined to fill her up with my taste until her whole life would take on the flavor of my pussy.
Run Bailey. Good girl. Now come on, second part of the course. Good. Keep going. That's a good girl. That's good, you're a fine girl!"
It was a beautiful day: The sun was shining down from a spotless, blue sky. Some birds were chirping in the nearby trees, insects buzzing around in the shadows of the high hedges that surrounded the compound. Within a few more weeks the leaves would turn red and golden and begin to fall.
Bailey was making her way across the obstacle course, her tail waggling in a joyful way that was betraying how she really had to feel. She moved kind of gracious in the bitch suit by now, even though it was ever-visible how hard it actually had to be for her. I could see a strand of drool dripping from her gagged mouth as she jumped off a bench and proceeded towards the next part of the course. Months of relentless training had allowed her to become pretty good at this.
On the other side I had found out that her poor arms had become useless for anything else than the movement as a bitch with stumped limbs: On the few occasions when I untied one of her arms - for cleaning purposes or any other reason that might come up - she had trouble even moving them a bit. It was a weirdly funny sight watching her to try stretch them, how she uncurled her pale, thin fingers only to find that even without the bondage she remained helpless as a newborn puppy. She cried her heart out on these occasions and later came violently when I allowed her to, pinching and stroking her clit and nipples while the vibrators and plugs fucked her.
"It's amazing what you managed to do with her", Peter said. He had turned out to be a handsome guy in his late thirties, wearing a suit but also a pair of very comfortable-looking sneakers. He was curly-haired, mild-mannered and courteous and he used to smile in the exact cheeky way I had imagined when I talked to him on the phone.
"Some trainers never learn to modify a girls' behavior like that, Jennifer. You did it to Hannah Gehringer, a woman whom I'd have described as completely unbreakable.
"You mean you couldn't have done this?" I grinned and kept watching Bailey, who was climbing the next obstacle as quickly as her restrained figure and folded limbs allowed it. She was panting and groaning under the thick bondage, but she didn't complain in any way that warranted punishment. She just kept going, her small naked tits bouncing a little beneath her restrained form.
"Well Jennifer, I would never give a newcomer the satisfaction to admit that", Pete said with a smile. He took a sip from his glass of lemonade. "But you did... really well. Come on, don't make me humiliate myself. You're already doing a fine job with your bitch when it comes to that."
As if he had been reading my mind, Pete said thoughtfully: "We gave you an opportunity and you took it. You could have panicked. You could have wimped out. You could have fucked this up easily, and in each of those cases I would have been forced to stuff you in a suit not so different from the one Bailey is wearing. But you proved yourself. And you've impressed every single one of the people who got a chance to look into your work." He shrugged in a very relaxed way, but I could see that he was kind of proud. "You're done. I will let them know that you succeeded."
I felt unbelievably relieved. I took the envelope he handed to me and found another twenty thousand in it. But it wasn't the money that mattered really. It was the knowledge that for the first time in my life I was not a fuckup or a loser.
Still, no matter how proud I felt, I had to make sure he understood something.
"Listen Pete, she is broken. I worked with her for months, and I trained her until she gave up, and after that I kept training her until she went at least half insane", I told him carefully while we watched Bailey finishing the course. "But she will always want to be free again. It doesn't matter if she is used to the bondage by now, or used to the gag, or used to the fact that she's being treated like a dog. It doesn't matter that I trained her to eat pussy or that I can force her to cum within minutes if I want to degrade or reward her, or both. She will *always* dream of killing her master, running away, being human again. She wants revenge, and she would do everything to get it."
"Sure, some of them are like that." Pete smiled. "Some never give up completely; never stop remembering what they were before. I told you about Miriam, didn't I? See, sometimes she still tries to scream through that isolation helmet of hers, and sometimes she still tries to struggle out of the bondage, even though she's been a rubberdoll for about a decade." He gave me a reassuring nod. "But that's exactly why Miriam, Bailey and others will are kept in permanent bondage, isn't it? Your sweet little bitch will be permanently gagged too, as far as that is possible. And she will only be handled by people who know exactly what this is about. There will simply not be a chance for Bailey to be anything else than good old Bailey anymore, for as long as she lives."
The shocking thing was that... I was not shocked anymore. Some months ago this conversation would have been unsettling. Now it felt natural, and so I nodded.
"I just wanted to make sure you and your partners never underestimate her, no matter what. After all, she's soon going to be *your* responsibility."
Pete looked surprised now. "Oh. Don't you want to keep her, Jennifer?"
"No, frankly I do not. I thought about it, you know? It was tempting, having her around forever. Remind her occasionally how we met and what she said to me, and how she became what she is now." I laughed. "But I realized that she isn't that interesting to me anymore. Sure, she has a great technique of eating pussy, but still... I think I should draw a line. And I can get a lot of money for a fully trained bitch, right?"
"You can." Pete nodded and looked at Bailey, who had trudged over to us by now. I did not even have to give her the "Sit!"-command: A glance was enough and she sat, drooling and sweating. The silver rings I had pierced her nipples with shone in the sun. Her large blue eyes watched Pete - whom she knew from before - and myself attentively. Her mouth worked restlessly on the semi-soft ball in her mouth." She's young and very lean and she is well behaved. Aren't you, Bailey?"
There were tears in the bitches' eyes. Still, she barked once for 'yes'. She knew what we were discussing, and I couldn't say if she would be glad to get away from me or if she was scared of what another owner would do with her.
"You can get up to a hundred fifty thousand for a well-trained bitch", Pete said thoughtfully. "Especially if the bitch has a history and such an interesting file, as Bailey has. Some people enjoy buying property that has a fascinating background. So yeah, I can already think of some members who would love to own a bitch like her. I'll make some phone calls."
Bailey began to whimper. Her tits were covered in goose bumps. I used my smart wristband to set the small dildo in her cunt and the plug in her ass on light stimulation and she calmed down a bit, moving her abdomen awkwardly while the equipment began to heat her up. She still seemed worried, but at least now she was getting some distraction.
"And after she's sold... we never see each other again? We're done, you and I?"
Pete hesitated. I could see more in his eyes than he possibly could want me to see. His cheeks reddened, which gave this perverted, cruel slaver a sweet boyish attitude.
"Well no. Or yes! Well, listen." He cleared his throat. "You don't owe us anything anymore. You can say goodbye now and we will not bother you again."
"And I'm not running the risk anymore to end up in a bitch suit?", I asked with an ironic smile.
"You wouldn't have anyways", he said honestly. "I saw you more as a great candidate for the transformation into a ponygirl. I already had the gear prepared, in case you tried to inform the authorities about us."
"You are charming." I glared at him. The thought of being in Hannah's position - as a bitch or a pony or whatever else animal in eternal restraints and slavery - was nothing I enjoyed. But I also knew that I would not have stood a chance if their secret club of madmen had decided it was time for me to 'start a new life'. "Well, thank you for not doing it."
"Thank *you* for going through with your promise." He took my hand, very carefully. He seemed to be nervous that I might complain, but I didn't.
"You are special, Jennifer. You have a talent, as I told you before. You could do this again, build yourself a reputation. It's a very well paid line of business. It offers many interesting experiences. And it seems to be something that you thoroughly enjoy."
That was true, and there was no sense in denying it anymore. "Show me your list of candidates", I said. When Pete handed me his tablet I took it and began browsing through the files.
There was a muscular blonde, wife of a bored banker who wanted to get rid of her and was prone to taking a sort of special revenge by seeing her transformed into a milk cow. There was a young student who had defied the wrong Professor at her college - a man who was, to her bad luck, senior member of the organization. There was a beautiful Asian politician who had enemies that didn't want her to be around when the next election took place. One of them wanted her as a 'faceless' worm, whatever that was supposed to mean.
I took my time and finally chose a face. Pete nodded, when I showed the asian woman to him.
"When I said 'show me' I did not just mean the files", I explained to him. "There is still so much to learn, don't you think so? You called me a greenhorn, and I guess we both know that you were right. I'm inexperienced, no matter how much talent I may possess."
"Does that mean that you'll do it, Pete?"
His brow furrowed. "Do... what exactly, Jennifer?"
"Agree to stay here for a while, of course. Teach me all that I have yet not yet mastered. You could bring Miriam and I could prepare a cell for her beneath the house. I have money now, remember? I'll upgrade the place as soon as possible anyways, but with you it would be so much more fun."
He understood and nodded, and before he could say more we already kissed. Behind us, Bailey moaned, whined, sobbed and came, her body rocked by the unwanted orgasm. On the table the summer sun shone on the tablet and the face of the young girl displayed on it. She would disappear soon, maybe in a plane crash or a mysterious abduction. She would be far away from home, here on my farm, and we would care very well for her.
Autumn was coming, and soon. But still I had never felt deeper in the summer than in this very moment.