Penance Corporation of America

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“Steady now, 112606. Just settle down and let the pain reach out and begin to modify that nasty disposition of yours. The pleasure I have bestowed, the flow of endorphins, will begin to dissipate, and in a few moments you’ll begin to beg again. That’s what I prefer to hear... if I want to hear anything. Silence is the rule here and you’ll learn it over time... and I will enjoy each lesson.”

I smile when he retorts with another strong suggestion that I do something unmentionable to myself. Oh, this is fun!

“Do you think, 112606, lying well trussed and completely naked in a cage, that there is any level of torment I cannot wreak? Think about where you are and who is in charge. You have nothing. Everything you now need to exist comes from me. Food, water, even hygiene. You’re a guest of the Penance Corporation of America. We are your legal guardian. There is nothing, no limits, in assuring that your term of incarceration is fulfilled and that you are adequately punished for your crimes. You will remain well bound and locked in this cage for nearly 24 hours per day, only to be released at my whim. The cage is in a room with two foot thick concrete walls. The only exit is through a locked steel door only opened by an electronic key which I control.”

I speak softly... but firmly. The endorphins released by my penile manipulation provide just enough respite from the building pain in the numerous joints that 112606 can listen calmly. My warm hand palms the male organs providing a modicum of delight and the conflicting messages received by the cortex serve to bring stillness and silence. There is pain... there is pleasure. But most importantly... both are conferred by me. With the limited cerebral capacity of 112606, he is confused... am I his tormentress... or am I his benefactress?

In fact, I am both... I am everything.

Whatever thoughts are percolating, 112606 calms and I remove my hand as I feel the renewed suffering bringing flaccidity. He moans as messages of pain replace the pleasure signals that my slow hand job sent to the cortex. I smile. In lying quietly, 112606 thinks that I have attained all I want.

His ordeal has just begun. As Peggy strongly suggested... he is to be broken.

I rise, stroll to the cabinet and rummage about. A simple board, dozens of clamps, a mass of short cords, the tools of she who will break the truculent male.

In returning to the cage, I slip the board under the lower belly of the stretched and tormented 112606. It is about four inches thick and is high enough to provide a modest degree of alleviation from the tension on arms, shoulders and legs. With the induced slack comes a sigh of relief.

“Thank me,” I strongly suggest.

In place of an expression of gratitude comes another vulgar epithet. Little does 112606 realize that such verbal fractiousness merely serves to heighten my resolve.

“Well, it seems you like hanging for me. Then hang you shall.”

I begin applying the clamps, selecting those with the sharpest teeth. Arms, back, buttocks, legs... about every six inches the fingers of the left hand gather a tuft of smooth hairless skin and the fingers of the right open and then release a clamp pinching it closed over the tuft. In some places the nasty teeth bring a whimper. In other places the thickness of the skin negates any reaction. Within minutes my caged toy is covered with small metal implements, each closing tightly and each having an eyelet where I can thread one of the many short cords.

“Your vulnerability will become more and more apparent to you, 112606. Your life is going to change dramatically here in this new little steel home of yours. All your past goals, past ambitions, what you thought were your wants and needs will be forgotten. Over time you will not understand how or why you ever took for granted such simple things as food... or even the ability to lift an arm... move a leg. Those very basic things now only come at my whim... under my governance.”

As I speak, I tie a cord to each clamp and then string it up to one of the bars at the top of the cage, drawing each relatively tight before knotting. I count six clamps on each arm, a dozen on the back, four on the buttocks, eight down each leg. The effort is tedious but that in itself is a lesson. 112606 will learn that there is no limit to the time taken in offering torment and suffering. He’s not going anywhere... neither am I.

“So I am going to introduce you rather abruptly to your new life.”

In tying off the last cord, I step back to survey. Dozens of short cords have been strung from the clamps to the top bars. I smile in satisfaction and slowly slide the board from under 112606’s hips. I feel more moisture as the intense agony causes the air to rush from the lungs of my hung toy. In addition to the renewed tension brought by the winch, 112606 now hangs by his very flesh, each of the dozens of clamps bearing just a modicum of weight. Not enough to tear, but enough to make his skin feel as if I have set it afire.

112606 draws in his breath and initially curses, words to which I am becoming accustomed although I suspect will not be hearing much longer.

“Stop. Please,” are words that follow invectives I shall not repeat.

I ignore all and move to the front of the cage. There I reach in and remove the rectangular piece covering the eyes. For the first time, 112606 has the ability to see me. It is important that he note the joy I sense in applying pain that invades every nerve center, every dendrite, every ganglia. 112606 is overwhelmed.

My hands smooth across covered cheeks, wiping away tears. I playfully tap his nose, noting that his eyes have become accustomed to the light and he focuses for the first time on a shapely blue eyed blonde with the animus of an executioner. I smile to assure that he understands my enjoyment.

“How long would you like to stay like that?” I coo with a mocking inflection.

“No more, please,” he manages to gasp.

I look straight into eyes which are masculinely beautiful, soft and wonderfully desperate.

“Wrong answer. The correct answer is as long as Miss Muffin wants you to stay like that.”

I giggle like a little girl playing with a doll... which at heart I feel I am.

“So. You’ll stay painfully hanging by your own flesh until I decide to push the board back under your hips. But if I do, that will only be for a little while. Until I again want to hear you cry in agony, see more tears and listen to more begging. It is then that I will again take away the board. It’s incredibly simple, don’t you think?”

Yes, it begins to dawn even on the cerebrally challenged petty thief that I am omnipotent and without mercy... and he is... well he is nothing. I want complete capitulation... and I will have it. Convincing 112606 may take some time... but he is also beginning to realize there is plenty of that.

“Would you like me to replace the board? Ask nicely...”

Such a pleasant way to spend an afternoon...

Well, I’ve never been one to be overly mindful of manners. But teaching consideration to a rapscallion such as 112606 can be deliciously fun. Yesterday, within hours of clamping his entire body and dangling his form from the cage bars, he finally began to learn that silence is best within his new home of steel. And when he did speak, the words became more and more polite.

When I finally released him from the hell of the dozens of cords, his agony began anew in removing the clamps... the circulation returning to various areas to awaken nerves which had mercifully gone dormant during the seemingly endless ordeal.

And for me... well there’s a certain odd joy in wiping away manly tears induced by my own abject cruelty. My panties were soaked.

And there’s something about those young soft eyes, peering so pitifully through the opening in his hood as the afternoon ended with groveling which proved to be emotionally intense.

The profanity ceased.

My special key opens the heavy steel door of the concrete chamber where I rule supreme. It’s morning and my dozen charges have whiled away the night, secured to the bars of their locked cages, in an inescapable room which resides in an equally inescapable building, surrounded by high walls and razor wire fencing. I find myself giddy every day when I arrive, knowing that nine thoroughly subjugated males await. It is only by my hand that there is food and release from immobility... however brief. Video cameras monitor the room at night. It’s most likely an unnecessary precaution... but the Penance Corporation of America does protect its revenue stream.

With every initial visit, the first thing that strikes the perceptive mind is the smell of a night’s excretions. The inmates go when they have to go, and that basic fact of nature explains the system of hierarchy in which the experienced and totally subjugated inmates reside in the top cages. For in entering, I note that 112606 in the bottom cage has been deluged by the emptying bladders of 070704 and 122299.

He is wet and smells. In addition, the guard monitoring the video camera has informed that 112606 broke the rule of silence, apparently protesting to his cell mates as they released what could no longer be held.

Such a transgression alone requires punishment. But as 112606 hears me enter, he has apparently forgotten yesterday’s lesson. He speaks!

Yes, he references his cell mates by comparing them to an odorous part of the human anatomy.

This will not do.

“Well, it seems more lessons are needed, 112606. Today you’ll lie supine.”

He catches himself, apologizing profusely, his words turning to pleas. But the others have heard him. I must maintain discipline and cannot allow his conduct to go without response.

Since there is no point in me enduring the odor, I stroll to the wall of plumbing fixtures and turn on the hose. A cold spray brings shock and soon has my nine naked charges gasping, abruptly ending any somnolence which I am sure was difficult to complete with any degree of recuperation.

There come exclamations, repressed protests, but also cleanliness as I hose with deliberation, soaking all. Remnants flow to the well drained floor and the room air clarifies.

I then fill water bottles and take the time to flip my charges to the supine position. Good boys get a little p***s rub and it requires very little effort to have eight stiff erections pointing skyward. But that is all they get.

Then it comes 112606’s turn. Whereas the experienced inmates know to cooperate, the changing of position after a night of immobility quite welcome, with 112606 I must zing with the prod. He is slow to respond. And since it is a chore I must perform three or four times per day on nine separate inmates, alacrity is appreciated.

I finally have him lying on his back. When I step away and open a cabinet drawer I note that 112606 begins to tremble. Yesterday, very nasty things were procured when he heard me rummaging about in the cabinet.

Today will be no different. He is frightened and he should be.

The same assortment of clamps and cords are selected along with two boards on this occasion. I then position my chair next to 112606’s cage and once again begin the laborious process of hanging him. I dispense with the winch in a gracious gesture of moderation. 112606 will be in enough pain without stretching the ligaments. Instead I work to slip one board under his shoulders and the other under his buttocks. He’s reluctant to cooperate and I don’t blame him. But a couple of zings with the prod encourages compliance and I soon have his naked form lying supine and about four inches above the bottom bars.