“I suppose you’re wondering what’s going on around here,” Hilarity said, smiling into Anne’s cell.

Anne nodded again, still fearful, and deeply conscious of the gag and the way it would make her sound like a drooling idiot.

“I understand,” Hilarity said. “I’m going to tell you what’s going on, but I’m going to leave that gag on you for the time being because it’s a lot easier to just get all of it out in one go -- new girls tend to pepper me with questions and try to tell me things about their experiences instead of letting me talk.”

Anne nodded again. She wasn’t in any position to complain about the gag anyway.

“OK, here’s what has happened to you, Anne,” said Hilarity. “You have been kidnapped by men from the planet Lothar, which is where you are right now. Lothar is in a distant part of the Milky Way galaxy, but the people of Lothar have access to Earth through a network of multi-dimensional gateways created by an advanced race of beings who dwell on Lothar known as the Bug Gods. It is possible to enter Lothar from Earth as simply as walking a bridge across a small stream, but our Earth people don’t know about the gates and hence, don’t use them.”

“Got it so far?” Hilarity asked.

Anne looked up at Hilarity. She nodded but could not resist adding “Mmmgh-mmgh-mmgh mgh!” which meant, “This is all obvious bullshit!”

“OK, I think you have it,” said Hilairty, smiling sweetly. “The men of Lothar enjoy going to Earth and raiding it for slave girls. They live at an Iron Age technological level, much like Roman times at the birth of Christ, because the Bug Gods don’t want the humans who infest their planet to get too technologically sophisticated, and engage in noisy and dangerous wars. So the Lotharios are way behind Earth in technology, and their culture has frozen at something like what the Romans had. Unfortunately for you and me, that includes slavery. Most women on Lothar are slaves, with some exceptions. I am a slave, you are a captive who is shortly going to become a slave, though that’s pretty much a meaningless distinction here. And as you may have noticed on your way here, sex slavery is not uncommon here, in fact, almost all of the adult women here are sex slaves, as you will soon be, if you have not been made one already.”

Meet the new boss.

What would Hilarity Clanton look like if she were younger and had a huge rack and round hips and blue eyes and dressed like a stripper and was a Second Life avatar? Kinda sorta in a way like this.

“The place you are in is a slave kennel,” said Hilarity. “You are new stock. This is a place where raw, untrained slaves such as yourself are brought to be trained for resale in other markets for higher prices. The reason this facility is in THIS particular location is that there is a multi-dimensional portal not far from here, from which come a steady stream of Earth girls needing to be processed as slaves -- such as you. And, at one time, me.”

Anned gazed up at Hilarity’s smiling face, and thought she saw a trace of malice in Hilarity’s smile. How a woman known for her practicality and level headedness (even Anne had to give Clanton that) could spew such utter nonsense with a straight face was beyond Anne’s understanding. Then again, she didn’t believe for a moment that this was Hilarity Clanton because of little details she had noticed about Clanton.

Clanton herself, ever the observant politician, correctly interpreted Anne’s expression as disbelief (she had probably seen plenty of such expressions if her story were true. As if.) “I know you don’t believe me Anne, but you will … you will. Now, leg’s see about getting that gag off so you can ask me some questions.”

Anne vigorously nodded “yes” to that, she was sick of wearing it, and if getting it off meant pretending to believe this bullshit, well, she’d do that.”

“Watch and learn, slut,” Hilarity told Anne, which Anne felt was uncalled for. “Also, get used to being called ‘girl’ and ‘slut’ -- its pretty much how we’re all referred to.”

Anne then walked over to where a man was standing. She figured he was a low level attendant or guard of something, because he stood against the wall with his hands folded, gazing into the air.

Clanton, or the person claiming to be Clanton, walked over to the man with her butt swinging like the cheapest whore in the Red Light district. When she reached the man, she prostrated herself at his feet … literally prostrated herself, with her butt hiked up and her head on the ground and her hands stretched out toward his feet.

"So, where are these furs that you Lotharians keep talking about?"

Image courtesy of Bondagerotica sponsor Sex and Submission.

And one of the things Anne had noticed about Clanton that made her so sure that it wasn’t really Clanton was that she wasn’t wearing enough clothing on her whole body to make a decent handkerchief. She only had a tiny wisp of silk on her butt, which served more to draw attention to her butt than to cover it, in fact, Clanton’s sweet spot was clearly visible as she knelt, as the silk had fallen to one side.

Not Hilarity Clanton. No way.

“Gorga gorga,” Clanton said to the man her voice all honeyed and silken.

Ann stared at the display, pop-eyed wit wonder. If her mouth hadn’t been gagged, it would have been hanging open. To think that this shameless slut was representing herself as Hilarity Clanton. Hilarity Clanton would never do that!

“Gorga,” the guard responded in a deep, guttaral voice. He was a bruiser, large shoulders and arms, narrow waist, dressed in black tights and a white tunic that clearly revealed the muscles beneath. There was a belt around his tunic, and tucked into that belt was a whip. Anne shuddered at the sight of it. Naked and caged as she was, she had a pretty good idea why he was carrying a whip.

“Gorga gorga,” Clanton responded, her voice even silkier if that was possible. “Gorga gorga gorga.”

The bruiser nodded and walked over to Anne’s cage. He opened the door to it, reached in, grabbed her by the collar and pulled her head and shoulders out of the cage, as Anne mmphed helplessly into her gag.

With practiced ease, he unbuckled Anne’s gag, then planted his hand on top of Anne’s head and shoved her back in the cage, closing and locking the door.

Anne was too busy coughing and choking and moving her very stiff jaw to pay much attention.

“Gorga,” Clanton said gratefully as the man left.

“Gorga,” the bruiser said dismissively.

“Gorga,” Clanton responded, rising with downcast eyes and walking back over to Anne’s cage, waiting patiently for Anne to stop choking and gagging, then asked, “Any questions?”

Anne took a deep breath and stared up at the Clanton imitator. She was in fact all questions, but narrowed it down to one, “How much?” she asked.

“How much what?” Clanton responded calmly.

“How much are they paying you to participate in this bizarre charade?” Anne asked bitterly, “because you sure as hell are NOT Hilarity Clanton, and this is NOT some other fucking planet!”

“So, what do you think is going on here, girl?” Clanton asked.

Anne ignored the sleight and got right to the meat of things. “I think this is some kind of liberal democratic op designed to throw me off my rocker and make me discredit myself in particular and conservatism generally by writing columns that are insane. It won’t work. You’re all going to wind up in jail.”

Anne spoke the words in a rush, a torrent of fury pent up behind a gag for too long. (Normally, she vented almost constantly.)

But Anne’s furious spew had an unexpected effect on the person pretending to be Hilarity Clanton. She burst out in a big, beaming smile.

“Ohmigod!” she cried, “that’s EXACTLY what I thought happened to me when I was brought here during the early years of the Bush Administration! Only I thought Republican conservatives were behind it! Great minds think alike, eh?”

Look, bit … er, lady,” Anne said, “I don’t know who you are but at least keep your damn story straight. Hilarity Clanton is currently serving as the Secretary of State. She was never kidnapped, never vanished, never disappeared.”

“Oh, that,” Clanton said. “Whenever the Lotharios capture a well-known Earth girl, they mind print a slave girl, give her a DNA clone serum, and then send them to Earth for a few years to cover the Goreans’ tracks.”

“Mindprint?” Anne cried. “DNA clone serum? Iron Age barbarians have cloning technology? See, these lies you babble to cover your other lies get sillier and sillier.”

“It IS kind of hard to believe, I know, but it is nonetheless true,” Clanton said forgivingly, “but they have a caste of physicians here who have developed all kinds of wonderful medical breakthroughs that are invariably administered in the form of serums added to your slave gruel. For example, I am sure you have noted some difference between my appearance and that of the person you know as Hilarity Clanton. The huge rack and the great butt for example.”

It was true. The woman who called herself Hilarity Clanton did have a huge rack, and they were naturals from the way they swayed when she moved, and her hips and butt were round and full, though her waistline was quite trim. Her skin was beautiful and smooth, too, and her face wasn’t wrinkled.

‘You don’t look ANYTHING like Hilarity Clanton,” Anne stated. “Maybe a little around the eyes and the mouth, but that’s it.”

ALSO FROM PAT POWERS

Anne rolled her eyes at these words.

“It sounds like a pornographic fantasy,” said Anne.

“It is not a fantasy, it is a reality,” said Anne. “Remember, most of the technology here is Iron Age technology, except for those wonderful serums. All the weapons require upper-body strength to use, and men have a lot more upper-body strength than women. If we don’t obey men, even if we openly disagree with men, they just beat us up until we see things their way. THAT’S the important reality of Lothar. The serums are wonderful, but they do nothing to change the power dynamics -- and if you will recall, I know a little bit about power dynamics. However, I must admit that being beautiful, practically immortal and young does somewhat compensate for being a sex slave.”

Anne for once was speechless -- all she could do was look disgusted at these obvious lies.

“Tell me, Anne, you said my clone was secretary of state,” said Clanton. “A previous Earth girl who came through here said my clone was a likely Presidential candidate. What happened?”

“The real Hilarity Clanton did run for President, as I’m sure you know,” Anne said in tones that clearly indicated that she was having none of his clone nonsense. “As you undoubtedly also know, whoever you are, she was defeated in the Demorat presidential primary by a black man named Bareback Osama, who then went on to claim the presidency.”

“Oh, look who’s gibbering lies now,” Clanton said, rolling her eyes. “A black man named Bareback Osama elected president by the same bunch of idiots that voted Dubya in twice? Yeah, that makes a LOT of sense.”

“I don’t care if you don’t believe me -- I don’t believe you as well,” Anne said flatly.

“Well, the part about ME losing the election could possibly be true,” Clanton mused. “Sometimes the slave girl clones go south and their old slave girl mindset reasserts itself, and they start doing things like showing off their glendas in public and getting in meaningless sexual affairs and so forth. That’s what happened to Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears -- their clones went bad.”

“Don’t forget Paris Hilton's ‘clone’” Anne said drily, unable to resist a chance to bang on a liberal slut.

“Paris Hilton, to my knowledge, has not been kidnapped,” said Clanton, “though I can see where you might think she has. I suspect it’s because Hilton has shown very little capacity to learn. Lotharion slaves have a great deal to learn when they first get here.”

“Back up a minute,” said Anne. “You said they showed off their glendas in public. What did you mean by that?”

“It was an error on my part,” said Clanton. “Here on Lothar, male genitals are called ‘glens’ and female genitals are called ‘glendas.’ So one is either a glen or a glenda. I will have to point this out to the guard so that he may punish me if necessary. I am not supposed to start teaching you Lotharion until tomorrow.”

Clanton paused.

“Of course, for you and I, there is a more significant modality, or at least a more modular modality, and that is that we are kinkjara, that is to say slave girls, owned she animals who are the property of Lotharion males and must serve them in any way they demand, which is to say, we serve them in the modality of fucking and sucking them constantly.”

The whole speech was delivered in a kind of singsong, as if it were a rote memorization.

“What the heck is that all about?” Anne demanded.

“Oh, that’s just something that some of us say when we’re horny for either pleasure or pain, or both” said Clanton. “I’m ready for a little of both. Thank you for pointing out my error by the way. Now watch and learn more.”

With these words, Clanton returned to the guard and kissed his feet and spoke a few more honeyed gorga-gorgas to him. This caused the guard to imperiously gesture in the direction of Anne’s cell. Clanton Gorga’d a response and then crawled over to Anne’s cell, head bowed down. Directly in front of Anne’s cell, Clanton stopped and stretched out her arms before her, presenting her back to ther guard that now loomed above her.

“Gorga,” said the man. “Gorga gorga” responded Clanton. Then the guard reached into his belt and pulled out the whip. He raised it, Clanton said “Gorga,” then he brought the lash down upon her back as hard as he could, or so it seemed to Anne. Clinton cried out in pain and her whole body writhed on the floor. Then she said “Gorga” and the lash came down again, eliciting another scream. Once more, “Gorga,” a scream and a lash, and it was over. Three long, bright red welts now adorned Clanton’s back.

“Gorga,” said the guard.

Clanton responded by lying stretched out on the ground with her hands crossed behind her back, and her ankles crossed as well. Her body was still squirming from the pain of the lashes. The guard reached down and tied Clanton’s hands behind her back.

“Gorga,” the guard said.

Clanton struggled to her knees and knelt before the guard, head down, with her hands tied behind her back. Clanton reverently kissed the man’s cock, then looked at him as she took it in her mouth. There were tears streaming down her cheeks from the whipping she had just endured as she sucked the man’s cock. Clanton sucked his cock, at first slowly and worshipfully, looking up at the man who had just whipped her with doeish eyes, then as his cock hardened in her mouth, she worked harder and faster, until she was finally bobbing her head back and forth like a shuttlecock with a mission.

When the guard came, he grabbed Clanton’s head and shoved his cock deep into her throat, yet she didn’t gag at all. Anne couldn’t look away as Clanton’s hands writhed behind her back and the guard spasmed his seed into her mouth.

When he was through, the guard stepped back a little, and Clnton followed his rereating cock desperately, reaching out for it with her tongue as it retreated. Then she kissed the guard’s feet and murmured “Gorga gorga” as he walked away, adjusting his tunic as he did so.

Clanton got up and walked back over to Anne’s cage. “I do love me some cock!” Clanton said smiling, even with the tracks of her tears from being whipped still trailing down her cheeks. “You’ll get to love it, too.”

“Sounds like someone has drunk deep of the kool-aid, among other things,” Anne observed, trying to avoid being too blatant in her contempt lest she give offence to someone who could have her whipped by that brute.

Clanton was on to Anne immediately, however. “I know, I know, you don’t think it’ll happen to you,” she responded. “I felt the same way ou did when I first came here. But they broke me. They broke me like the cowboys back on Earth break a horse. I know that I am an animal best suited to being ridden by men. Heh. You’ll learn that, too.”

Anne simply looked at Clanton. There was a big glob of cum on her cheek, and Anne couldn’t keep her eyes away from it as Clanton talked. She didn’t know who the cum-spattered whore who called herself Hilarity Clanton really was, but whoever she was, she had a lot of damned nerve (just like the original).

Clanton, or her cum-spattered impersonator, was a observant as ever. “Something on my face?” she asked.

Anne could only nod “Yes.”

"Something on my face?"

Clanton carefully felt her chin, and when she fond the glob she casually wiped it off with a fingertip, then popped that fingertip into her mouth and licked it clean. She smiled at Anne. “Thanks. I actually crave sperm now. You will, too. And when the hip-widening serum and the waist-narrowing serum and the breast-enlarging serum and the facial feature softening serum do their work -- well, you’ll probably be just swimming in the stuff. Y’know, you’ll probably need a hit of Adam’s apple reducing serum too. Normally the facial feature softening serum covers that, but I think you’ll need an extra hit.”

Anne rolled her eyes. A standard liberal jape about her Adam’s apple. Apparently the Hilarity didn’t know that the original was above that sort of thing.

“Yes, of course,” Anne said politely. “Also you are eleven feet tall and made out of gold.” She knew she might be whipped for saying it, but really, the level of bullshit about these mysterious serums and what they could do. Immortality serums! Birth control serums! Ridiculous.

“Oh, that eleven-foot-tall comment reminds me,” said Clanton. “Lotharios are big into sexual dimorphism. They like their women small and weak so they can seem bigger and stronger by contrast. So they have a woman-shortening serum, too. They’ll put it in the slave gruel they feed you, along with all the other serums. Doesn’t affect the taste at all, which is kinda sad, really, because it doesn’t taste too good in the first place.”

Ann just nodded. She was tired of hearing about the slave gruel and the serums. She wasn’t going to eat the slave gruel, anyway. Gruel. Yech. She had eaten it yesterday, but tomorrow she would be stronger.

Clanton saw Anne’s disinterest. “Well, I’m sure you’ve had a big day, being sold and enslaved is wearing, I know, especially the first time it happens.”

(FIRST TIME???!!!?? Anne thought.)

“Now, down here in the slave kennels, we don’t snuff the torches -- might make escape attempts to easy,” Clanton continued. “Instead, we just hood the slaves. That would be you. And me, later tonight. They don’t make exceptions here, even for the First Girl. So I have a hood here, and I’ll put it on you carefully -- if you cooperate. But if you give me the least little bit of trouble, I’ll just beg the guard to do it.”

Anne didn’t want the guard to do it -- she’d already had a taste of the ruthless efficiency with which he handled women.

“I’ll be quiet, you don’t have to hood me,” said Anne.

“Oh, but I DO have to hood you,” Clanton said. “If a master found out I hadn’t hooded you without first getting explicit permission to do so, I’d be chained to a post and whipped until I passed out from the pain. And no master is going to give permission to not hood you without good reason. The fact that you don’t WANT to be hooded is not a reason -- it’s not even a consideration. You have five minutes to submit.”

“Oh, come on, I don’t even know HOW to submit,”Anne said peevishly, hiding her fear. She hoped submitting didn’t involve licking of sucking on anything nasty.

“Just lower your head, girl,” Hilarity said. “Five … four … three …”

Hating it but fearful (the sight of Clanton’s whipping had had its effect on her) Anne lowered her head at the count of three.

“Keep your head down,” Clanton said as she opened the cage door. “Now, open your mouth.”

“Why?” Anne asked.

“Because if you don’t in about one second I’m going to have the guard come over and open it for you,” Clanton said sweetly.

Anne opened her mouth.

“And let me tell you, girl, that the next time you get an order from me or anybody else and say or do anything OTHER obey it, you will be whipped on the spot,” Clanton said as she stuffed a leather gag ball into Anne’s mouth.

“Mmfh! Mmfh!” Anne protested as she felt the horrid thing thrust into her mouth.

“Yes, girl, I know you don’t like it,” Anne said calmly as she gave the strap a good tug so it would remain in place and buckled it shut with experienced hands. “Most of the early experiences of being a slave consist of being made to do things you don’t like. But you should try and get used to being gagged because you will be gagged often. Most Lotharios feel that a slave girl should be gagged unless the use of her mouth is needed for specific purposes, such as eating, oral sex and speech. The slavers here have simply instituted a rule to that effect.

“Mmgh!” Anne mumbled contemptuously. Another liberal/feminist torture for her to endure, forcing her to experience what it was like to have one’s speech suppressed.

Then Anne felt a hood drawn over her head. It was very tight, it took some work to get it over her head, and all Anne could do was stand there bent over and let it happen, because she knew who would be hooding her if Clanton did not. There was a perforated area in front of her nostrils so she could breathe easily (unknown to Anne, the leather ball in her mouth was also perforated so that she could -- with effort -- breathe through it if her nose got clogged up) but she couldn’t see because there were thick pads over her eyes. Feeling the hood being buckled tight left her feeling much more exposed than helpless than before -- she could not see.

Anne heard the door to her cell slam shut as she crouched in it, feeling very miserable and helpless.

“One more thing, Anne,” came Clanton’s calm voice (though Anne thought she detected more than a hint of malice in her tones) “Lotharios believe that an important part of training a slave girl is seeing that she gets fucked a lot. So a couple of times tonight, you’ll be dragged from your cell, tied up and fucked. You’re not at all attractive by Lothario standards, so they’ll probably slip a couple of tard disks to some guards for doing you.”

(Even naked, bound, gagged and hooded as she was, Anne bridled with indignation. They were going to pay men to fuck her? Her!!?? HER!!?? The most beautiful political commentator ever? It was outrageous. It was adding insult to rapery.

“But don’t worry,” Clanton continued, “they’ll leave the hood and gag on, and tie you down so you can’t move, and they won’t care at all if you come or not, so that really cuts down on the social awkwardness. All you have to do is lie there. Anyway, I’m off to bed now myself. I’ll be hooded, gagged and caged just like you, for I am also a slave girl. I’ll get fucked just like you, too, but unlike you, I won’t be hooded and will be gagged only part of the time, and will be expected to make a more, um, active part in the festivities. I’m looking forward to it. You will too, in a very short time -- you won’t know how you used to be able to fall asleep without being gagged. Don’t you worry.”

And having given Anne PLENTY to worry about, she walked away. Anne listened to her retreating footsteps and had an impulse to cry out to Clanton to remain, as she was the only person in the last two days who had treated Anne with any kindness at all.

Ann laid down and struggled in her bonds a bit, and cried a bit and spent a fair amount of time trying to find a comfortable position to lie in with her hands bound behind her back. It was basically impossible. Even when she found the least uncomfortable position, there was still the matter of her gag. Its ball filled her mouth, and she could not get it out. As if it were a sore tooth, her tongue explored it constantly, and she pushed against it with her tongue and pulled her lips back, but she couldn’t dislodge it. It would stay there until someone removed it for her.

But she was in fact very tired and after a time, sleep mercifully claimed her.

This is SO Gitmo,” Anne thought as she snuggled as best she could on the hard floor.

She was having a strange dream in which she was being auctioned on the Tonight Show, and she was dancing naked on top of a piano, painted purple, singing “I’m A Slave 4U” which was interrupted when strong hands seized her and pulled her out of her cell. Muzzy with sleep, she did not resist, nor could she once they had her firmly in their strong grips.

Anne was half-dragged, half-carried for a distance, then one man threw her over her shoulders and carried her down some stairs with no great effort, which made sense because the shoulders that dug into her midsection were big and muscular. After the stairs, she was drag/carried a bit more and finally was taken into a warm, moist place where she was secured to a sort of bench with a broad strap across her lower back.

But the securing didn’t stop there. She was crosswise on the bench, with her head hanging almost upside-down and her butt hiked up in the air. She felt a rope being threaded between her arms and her torso going above her breasts and then attaching to something on top of her hood. Then she felt the rope being pulled taut, it pulled her upper torso upward until it was suspended in the air almost level with her hips, with her breasts hanging down like a cow’s. The same tautening of the rope had pulled her head up via the attachment at the top of her hood, leaving her neck exposed.

At the same time her upper torso was suspended her ankles were tied apart, spreading her legs wide. They left her arms tied behind her back.

The whole operation was done expertly and swiftly and took less than a minute Anne was splayed out and helpless. She whimpered in fear, knowing what was coming thanks to Hilarity’s warning. Her whole butt puckered inward as she waited for the violation.

But the expected probing of her pussy by a hard cock did not occur. Instead, soft, delicate hands began massaging scented oils into her skin -- every nook and cranny of her skin, but their touch was so sure and skilled that it didn’t even feel all that invasive when they massaged oil into the folds of her labia.

In fact, the gentle, persistent probing of those sensitive hands was such a welcome relief from the rough treatment she had received before, that she relaxed and gave herself up to them instinctively. She was helpless, tied down and hooded, anyway.

Then the hands began softly stroking Anne’s pussy lips, and she felt soft tongues caressing her nipples, and she remembered the last time she had been so delicately touched since coming to Lothar -- on the log. By her first captor. Just before he raped her.

Anne moaned into her gag as the supple fingers of her unseen molesters worked her relentlessly. Anne was not feeling particularly romantic at the moment, but it just didn’t matter. Her unseen molesters were experts in arousing the female body, almost as if they had been trained to, and they knew of erogenous zones that Anne had never known she had. Their expert and sensitive manipulations of her body made her respond powerfully. And the helpless way her body was bound, her sex and her breasts totally exposed, meant that her molesters were able to read every response her body made to their licks, kisses, strokes and fondles, and react accordingly, making her even more aroused.

Anne began struggling in her bonds and moaning as the sensations overcame her. Her molesters noted this and redoubled their efforts. Soon Anne was squirming and writhing mindlessly in response to the fingers and tongues that moved everywhere about her body, most especially on her nipples and clit, which they worked as though they could feel Anne’s responses directly.

Anne was on the point of orgasm when the finger on her clit suddenly stopped working its magic. She cried out in protest, then cried out in protest again as she felt a massive cock working its way into her pussy. She writhed and twisted in her bonds as helplessly as a worm on a hook as the cock began working in and out of her.

The cock was rock-hard at the outset, as if those delicate fingers and tongues had been at work on it as well as her.

Anne moaned in unwilling pleasure as the cock increased its pace. The hands and tongues continued to work her nipples, the base of her neck, the lobes of her ears, even her feet as the cock pounded hard and harder. In a few sort moments Anne was wailing and moaning and screaming into the gag as she orgasmed, feeling the man orgasm inside her as well.

As soon as he was finished, he stepped away from Anne, and she smelled scented cloths being applied to him. They did not apply scented cloths to her. They simply released Anne from the bonds that held her to the bench, then she was dragged back to her cell and dumped inside it, her hands still tied behind her back. As they moved down the hall they paused and Anne was flattened against the wall by the guards, and she heard footsteps and some soft whimpering. Apparently another captive on her way to the sex room.

Locked in her cell again, Anne lay in a sort of shock, her body still twitching slightly from the aftereffects of the orgasms that had thundered through her body, orgasms that dwarfed every orgasm she had ever felt. She smelled the stink of sex upon her, and there was nothing she could do about it. If they wanted to do this again, she knew there would be nothing she could do about it. Despite all these sensations, the orgasms had left Anne physically very relaxed, and she fell asleep very quickly and easily.

Until she felt herself awakened and dragged out of her cage again, to experience the same thing she had just experienced, only this time she was bent face up over the bench.

As she fell asleep for the second time, she took comfort in the thought that tomorrow could hardly be as bad as this day had been.

I felt it was my duty to give Hilarity Clanton a nice butt to go with her huge rack. Call me a patriot if you will. And yes, this is The End.

Stay tuned for our exciting Chapter 5. Will the morrow bring an easier day for Anne? Or is Pat Powers totally fiendish? I think we all know the answer to that question.