By Judicial Decree

by Commander James Bondage

  Olivia was still unconscious when Caine entered the room, with her chin resting on her chest. He filled a bucket with icy water from the tap, and then splashed it on the naked blonde.

  The shock of the freezing inundation brought her suddenly to life. She screamed, or rather she tried to. Her mouth was stuffed full of some soft material and her lips were sealed with a strip of silvery duct tape. All that came out was a low keening noise: “Eeeeeee!”

  “Glad to see you back with us,” Caine remarked. He held a whip, which he played with, running it slowly through his hands as he strolled slowly about the room. Olivia’s eyes were fixed on the whip. “You have a great deal to learn, Mrs. Addison, and you are going to begin to learn it now.” He snapped the whip sharply against the floor, making a loud crack! Olivia flinched.

  “Your first problem is that you are confused,” he continued, walking behind her and drinking in the soft curves of her buttocks, back and thighs. “You labor under the mistaken belief that you are Olivia Addison, high society hostess of Celestial County, and queen bee at the local country club.” He stroked her smooth flank, casually running his hand up her body from mid-thigh to ribs, and then cupped one breast as he continued to speak. She glared at him with open hatred written on her face.

  “Actually, that person, that Olivia Addison, no longer exists. You are confused because you look a bit like her,” he went on, moving around behind the bound woman and slipping his fingers between her fine, oval buttocks. “But, of course, that Olivia would never let a strange man handle her aristocratic pussy…” Here he matched his deed to the words, probing inside her sheath with two fingers and making Olivia jump in her effort to escape the unwanted caress. “…or play with her tits…” he continued, reaching around from behind with both hands to engulf her mounds. They were heavy in his hands, not too big, but extremely solid. He was certain that they would bounce beautifully, when he got around to punishing them. Olivia twisted in her restraints, vainly trying to shake him off.

  He released her breasts and came back around her to stand before the enslaved wife again. “The old Olivia Addison would never stand still for this…” he said, slapping her on the face twice in swift succession with forehand and backhand strokes. She emitted a weak squeal from the back of her throat. The expression on her face indicated that if she could have killed him on the spot, she would have cheerfully done so.

  “…or this…” he said, taking her nipples, one in each hand, and simultaneously pulling, twisting and squeezing them as hard as he could. She writhed like an animal in his grasp.

  “But in fact, you are no longer that Olivia Addison. In fact, you are neither more nor less than a naked slave, without rights of any kind.” He continued to lecture her as he moved behind her and forced his forefinger knuckle-deep into the tight circle of her anus. She gasped. “Do you know that a horse or a dog has more rights than you do, Mrs. Addison? I am the president of the local Association to Stop Cruel Treatment of Animals, and I even helped to draft laws that the legislature of this state has passed to protect domestic beasts. I can assure you that there is no such law protecting you.”

  “So, the first thing you need to understand is that Olivia Addison, society hostess, no longer exists,” he concluded, as he began to methodically slap her firm tits back and forth. “Until you come to terms with that basic truth, you will be of no use as a servant.”

  He now produced a black latex hood which he proceeded to pull over her head. The only openings in the skin- tight covering were two small holes for her nostrils. She thrashed again in renewed panic as night descended on her.

  “I will help you to become oriented to your new reality,” she heard him say from somewhere behind. An instant later, she heard the whip crack again, and felt a line of burning pain blaze down her back from her shoulder to her buttocks. Her body arched forward like a bow in agony.

  This pain was quite unlike that inflicted by the slave collar. For one thing, it was localized in the area where the whip had struck her, whereas the collar had sent a wave of agony throughout her whole body. Much worse was the fact that the pain inflicted by the collar ended the same instant the signal from the remote control ceased. The pain inflicted by the whip, on the other hand lingered horribly for a long time after the stroke. The hood added to her terror, as she had no way to anticipate when the next stroke would come or where it would strike her body. She turned her head wildly from side to side, as if trying to see her tormentor.

  Caine waited until he judges that her throbbing had died down to an almost bearable level, then struck her again, surprising her with a cruel stroke across her left breast and belly.

  Olivia screamed feebly, pulled at her restraints and shook her head like a horse bothered by flies. It felt to her as if the whip was flaying a strip of flesh off her body with each stroke. The whip would master her, she knew. She was not strong enough to withstand this kind of pain for long. She was ready surrender to Caine and to give him whatever he wanted. She tried to tell him that, but all that she could do was mumble incomprehensibly. Then the whip cut the soft flesh of her inner thighs and she shrieked her surrender with all her might, begging him to stop. The effort produced a muffled “Nnnnnnn”, audible perhaps five feet away.

  He admired the red welts that rose from her formerly unmarked, alabaster skin. “As your owner, I have the right to give you a new name,” he told the naked woman as she twisted in pain. “To help you get over this difficult period of adjustment, I will do so. How would you like to be called ‘Slut’?” He slashed her across both ass cheeks, leaving a bright red curving line and starting her on a new dance of agony.

  “That doesn’t appeal to you, hey?” he asked. “Well, perhaps you’re right. I think ‘Bitch’ would be more appropriate.” He snapped the whip up between her legs, and this time the tip found the protruding pink lips of her sex. To Olivia, it seemed as if her labia had been sliced with a knife. She threw back her head and howled. A weak “Uuhhh!” emerged from the back of her throat.

  “Yes, I agree. ‘Bitch’ it shall be,” Caine said, admiring her contortions. He waited until he judged that worst of the pain had passed, then he drew a new line of white-hot agony across the white expanse of her naked back.

  After that, he said nothing for a long time, but continued to flagellate his defenseless victim in an unhurried fashion. Sometimes he waited a full minute between strokes, while other times he applied two strokes in rapid succession. He varied his targets, so that she never knew where the next blow would land.. Over the course of the next hour, every part of her body between the neck and the knees tasted Caine’s lash. Each stroke raised a red welt on the surface of her fair skin, and each seemed to Olivia to be more painful than the one before. After an unknown time, she found that her throat so raw she could no longer scream her agony. Would this beating never end? she wondered.

  At last, he lowered the whip, saying, “That should be enough for now.” She heard him move away across the room and then return.

  “Stand still,” he ordered, and he began rubbing something which was both icy and burning on the welts the whip had raised. She thrashed for a moment, and then realized that whatever he was applying to her was actually reducing the throbbing of her wounds.

  “This stuff will heal these whip marks in no time,” he explained as he applied the unguent to a nasty welt just below her left nipple. “Two days, there will be nothing but a few thin white lines, and in less than a week, even those will be gone. That way I can whip you as much as necessary, without you losing your looks from scarring.”

  She was glad to hear that he placed some value on retaining her beauty intact. Perhaps her new master was a little less harsh than he pretended to be. She wondered if it would be possible for her to seduce him, so that she might gain status in the household as his favorite.

  He finished the treatments by dabbing the lotion on the wounded lips of her vulva. Again she heard him walk away, and this time he returned pushing what sounded like a
rubber-wheeled cart.

  “I’m going to leave you here until after dinner, Bitch,” he said, “but before I go, I’m going to give you something to help you settle your mind about who you are. I suggest you use the time while I’m away to ponder your name and condition.”

  Suddenly she felt the bite of tiny metal teeth sinking into her right nipple. She tried to squirm away, but the biting pain followed the futile twisting movements of her chest. The only result was to make her breasts jiggle in a way that delighted Caine.

  He proceeded to close another of the vicious biting objects over her other nipple. “Nnnnn!” she protested.

  “There’s one more,” he said. “I suppose you can guess where this one goes.”

  Until that moment, Olivia had thought she was too exhausted from the whipping she had just received to struggle. But the idea of those metal teeth biting into her tender clitoris was enough to give her the energy to fling her hips vigorously the moment she felt his fingers touch her labia.

  He slapped her face four times, (the latex hood provided no protection from the blows whatever), and ordered her to remain still, but still she continued to pull away from his hand. She did not consciously wish to disobey; she already feared his anger too much for that. However, her fear of the little clip was so great that she had no control over her own body’s reactions. The movements of her hips were purely involuntary.

  After three futile attempts and more slapping of her already bruised face, until Olivia imagined that a boiler factory had somehow taken up residence in her brain, he grunted, “All right, we’ll do it the hard way.”

  She could hear him adjusting knobs at the panel that controlled the framework that held her. There was a hum of small electric motors, and then she felt her arms and legs being stretched as the rods of the framework moved further apart. It continued until she thought might it dislocate all her limbs, but it stopped short of that. She was now suspended from the ground and stretched tighter than a bowstring, in an “x” shape. She found that she could barely move her hips half an inch.

  “This is an additional punishment that you brought on yourself,” he said. He opened the lips of her vagina and found the little button of flesh inside that he sought. He toyed with the pink knob for a little while, until it swelled up in response. Olivia arched back in agony when he closed the jaws of the clip on her love button. “You will remain under tension like this until I return.”

  She heard clicking and a low hum. “These clips are attached to an electrical device with a timer. This machine will administer electric shocks through the clips on your nipples and clit four times every hour. Each shock will last one minute.”

  She whimpered. “Don’t leave me here,” she tried to say. “I’ll do anything you want, please.” All that came out was an almost inaudible sound like a sigh.

  She could hear his footsteps moving towards the door, and then the sound of the door opening. “Oh, one more thing,” he said. “The strength of the shock varies randomly from fairly mild to quite severe, just so you don’t get bored with the process. See you in six hours.” She heard the heavy door slam shut behind him, with a sound of finality .

  She tried to call him back, but her throat was so ragged by now that she was incapable of producing anything above a whisper, even if she had not been so efficiently gagged. All she could do was hang suspended and helpless, and try to steel herself for the first shock.

  When it came, she discovered that all her preparation had gone for nothing. She was still not prepared for the sensation. When the ability to form rational thoughts returned to her afterwards, she realized she would never be ready to handle it. Her nipples felt as if they were being toasted by a flaming match. But the pain from down between her legs was far worse. The shock was a blinding agony that made her want to crawl right out of her own body to escape it. The minute was unbelievably long; she tried to count off the seconds, but the pain was so great that she could not count past three without losing track. It ended only after a minute that stretched out for a lifetime. She felt wetness between her legs, and realized that her bladder had released at some point during the time her mind had fled her body.

  She did a quick calculation, and despaired when she realized that she had twenty-three more shocks to look forward to, all while remaining stretched as tightly as the strings of a tennis racket for the next six hours. She wished that she had the power to die at will. She was sure that she would rather be dead than endure what the next six hours would bring. Unfortunately, she did not have that choice. She wondered if the first shock had been one of the mild ones, the severe ones, or an in-between. A few minutes later, she had her answer… the first shock had been a mild one.

  * * * * *

  By the time Caine returned, Olivia given up any thought of struggling. When the shocks lit fires in her delicate nipples and clit, she simply hung limply in her restraints, existing until the endless minute passed. She had almost forgotten who and where she was. She had no hopes of any kind, nor any plans for the future; every particle of her being was concentrated on surviving the six hours without going mad. Her body gleamed with sweat from the ordeal. She did not have the strength to raise her chin from her chest when she heard the door open.

  She heard his footsteps approaching. There was a click, and then the soft hum of the electric torture device faded away.

  There was a zipper on the latex hood where it covered her mouth. He opened the zipper and ripped the duct tape roughly from her lips.

  “Open up,” he ordered. When she did, he reached into her mouth and pulled out a soggy mass of foam rubber. Before she could say anything, he asked, “Are you thirsty?”

  Olivia suddenly realized that she never been so thirsty in all her life. Her throat was so raw and dry it took several attempts before she could speak aloud. She nodded her head weakly and finally forced out a “Yes,” in a feeble whisper.

  She felt a drinking straw between her lips. “Drink this,” he said.

  She wondered for an instant if the drink was poison, or some kind of drug, but she immediately decided not to worry about it. He could use her any way he wished; he could put her down like a rabid dog, if he wanted to. She was his slave, legal for all purposes, and nothing he chose to do to her was forbidden. If he wanted to drug her or poison her, there was nothing she or anybody else could do about it. She sucked eagerly at the straw, and was rewarded when an icy cold liquid filled her mouth. She gulped it down greedily. The fluid was slightly sweet and slightly salty, with a light fruity taste. She had never tasted anything so delicious in her life.

  “It’s got glucose and electrolytes in it,” he told her. “Drink it all. We don’t want you passing out. We have work ahead of us.” She was glad to comply, drawing on the straw until a gurgling sound told her that the container was empty.

  She sighed. “Thank you,” she said softly.

  “Now I have some questions for you,” Caine said. “The right answers will get you down from that frame. The wrong ones will leave you up there until tomorrow morning, where you will receive electric shocks at ten-minute intervals for the next eight hours.”

  “No, please don’t… I can’t… no…” she whispered in her terror. She trembled at the thought that she might give him the wrong answer. She could not face another eight hours attached to that machine. Death would be a hundred times more desirable.

  “The first question is…,” he paused. “Who are you?”

  “I am Ol…” she started to answer automatically, and then stopped. Her mind was still in a fog from the recently ended six-hour session with the machine, but she knew “Olivia Addison” was the wrong answer. Olivia Addison was a rich, powerful, respected member of Celestial County society. She, on the other hand, was nothing but a naked bit of suffering flesh, subject to the slightest whim of her master. She had a new name. What was it? She strained through the fog in her brain to remember.

  “Well, what’s the answer?” Caine insisted.

  She remembered
at last. “Bitch,” she said hoarsely, “my name is ‘Bitch’.” She smiled, happy that she had been able to answer his question.

  “Correct,” he said. “Now, Bitch, what is your status?”

  That was an easy one. “I am a slave, your slave, master,” she added.

  “Correct again,” he replied. “Now, here is your final question. Who is Olivia Addison?”

  She thought about it for a moment. “Why, she’s nobody, master. She doesn’t exist.”

  “Right again, Bitch,” he responded. She heard the clicking of switches on the control panel, the hum of electric motors, and suddenly the four cuffs holding her opened and she fell to the ground. Her legs were still too weak from her ordeal to support her, but she managed to push herself into a squatting position, facing in the direction that she guessed Caine was standing.

  “Put your hands behind your back, Bitch,” he ordered. “Your right hand should be holding your left elbow and your left hand holding your right elbow.” She followed the instructions, and he stepped behind her and slipped something around her forearms that tightened firmly after he closed it. He detached the wires from the three clips, but left the clips themselves in place.

  “Now, Bitch, I need to know if you will serve me faithfully as my personal slave,” he said.

  She licked her lips. “Yes, master. I will serve you faithfully.”

  He placed his fingers on her lips. “Will you serve me with your mouth, Bitch?” he asked. The question had a feeling of ritual about it, and she answered in that spirit.

  “Yes, master, I will serve you with my mouth,” she replied.

  “Kiss my fingers, idiot,” he snapped, slapping her hard enough to knock her to the floor.

  “Oh! Ouch! I’m sorry, master,” she said, scrambling up and making kissing motions with her lips while seeking his hand by weaving her head slowly back and forth. She felt a little spark of resentment at his unfairness. Why did he need to hit her?