Someone must have been following her for some time, because one morning while out shopping in Suntec, they came up behind her and jabbed her in the small of the back with a taser. The jolt spurted through her voluntary nervous system, and she crumpled bonelessly to the floor. Her attacker pocketed the taser - disguised as a cellphone - and bent down over her: her body had hidden it from view and none of the other shoppers in the mall had noticed the assault. Before her dazed and swimming eyes, he seemed like just another mall security guard; at first she could not even connect him with the shock in her back. Then another couple joined him, a man and a woman, just ordinary shoppers. The man bent down over her too, and announced, a little loudly, "It's her asthma: she'll be fine once she has her inhaler. He held a plastic tube to her face and squeezed, and a stinging spray forced its way up her mouth and nose.

 

The effects of the taser seemed to deepen. Her eyes reeled in her head and she found she could not focus on anything or move her arms beyond a vague hesitant brushing. Solicitous hands helped her to her feet, the man and woman supporting her between them, followed by the security guard. Half carrying her as her rubbery legs pushed vainly at the floor, they bustled her towards the nearest exit. The other shoppers peered at her, some sympathetic but most staring with shock and distaste. A warm spreading dampness between her legs told her why, and as her head lolled and flopped on her neck, she got one confirming glance: the taser shock had made her lose bowel control, and a yellow trail of piss was seeping out through her panties and out from under her demure little skirt, down her legs. Almost mercifully, her captors bundled her out through a side door and into the back seat of a dark SUV pulled up by the pavement outside.

 

The "security guard" made a show of seeing them off, shut the door, and walked away. The woman on her right fiddled in her bag as the man on her left took her wrists. She tried to say something, struggle, protest as the car pulled out, but everything was so confusing, difficult and dreamlike. Her mouth opened, but all that came out was a sigh and a little drool. Her head drooped and her chin rested on her chest: she felt a tight pain round her wrists and saw that the man had bound them together with a plastic strip tie, the kind used on cardboard boxes. A sting in her thigh and she rolled her eyes with an effort to see the women deftly inject her with some clear liquid from a small thin hypo. The fogginess in her vision darkened and thickened into a whirling tunnel that sucked her in with a rushing sound in her ears, and the last thing she felt before the darkness swallowed her completely was the man gently prising her thighs apart to wipe up the rank-smelling piss with a wad of menthol tissues.

 

The darkness cleared occasionally. At one point, she felt herself being hauled out of the SUV and into another vehicle, somewhere quiet and deserted in the open. She pulled weakly at her bonds with the little strength of will she could still muster, but the tough plastic just dug into her wrists, and her abductors carried her more quickly, and dropped her into a warm windowless padded space in what seemed to be the back of a van. There the drone of the engine lulled her and she soon fell asleep.

 

When her eyes opened again, she was more herself, and at least able to see clearly what was around her. But it did her little good, because all she saw were bright steel bars less than a foot in front of her face and, between the bars, clinical white tiles and brushed metal surfaces, unnervingly like a TV crime drama path lab. The cramped discomfort that had woken her worsened: she swiveled her head round to see that the long rectangular cage was only a few inches wider than her body on both sides, and no higher than a human waist. On the floor of the cage was a coarse mat, but there was no room for her to lie down unless she curled up with her knees close to her chin, and she realized that her wrists and ankles were somehow shackled to the sides of the cage, holding her on all fours, while some kind of brace went round her waist. Also, she realized that someone had removed her clothes while she was unconscious, and she was now completely naked.

 

Chilled suddenly, despite the antiseptic ambient temperature of the air-conditioned room, she opened her mouth to shout, but found she could only produce a muffled wordless panting. Somehow the back of her throat felt numb, and she could not make something back there do what she wanted it to. Really scared now, she began frantically to rattle her cage, from side to side, pulling at the round steel shackles. That brought results, but not welcome ones. A woman's heels clicked across the lino floor towards her, and heaving her head over one shoulder, she glimpsed a thin middle-aged face under a greying perm that eyed her dispassionately through slender horn-rims. The woman reached down between the bars and grasped the back of her neck with long fingers: firmly enough for the nails to dig into her skin, but not hard enough to really hurt, chiding rather than cruel. Then the hand let go, and a shock hit her in the side like a fist, and she gasped as her body tried to double up around it, only bringing more pain to her wrists and ankles. It was like the taser shock only infinitely worse, and with no merciful fainting. She crouched panting for some minutes, squinting the tears out of her eyes, and saw the woman's other hand cross her field of view holding a small black baton with two silver contacts at the tip.

 

Not daring to shake the cage again, she gazed petrified at the woman, afraid to take her eyes off her. But then she heard more footsteps from the other side of the room, more solid, a man's. The two adults moved to stand either side at the head of her cage. She blinked up at them, red-eyed. They looked like assistant principals or school inspectors: authoritative but anonymous, white, middle-aged, dispassionate. The woman wore a black tight-cut suit; the man was dressed in a coat cut like a white coat but in the dark blue cloth of workmans' coveralls. Neither had been among her abductors. They paused for a moment, gazing down at her coolly, then the woman bent down and, as she cringed away, did something with a catch on the front of the cage. With a faint clank, the whole front swung open.

 

She had been terrified to find herself in the cage: now she cowered back inside it as the woman reached in with firm, capable hands and took her by one upper arm and a collar round her neck that she had been too distracted to pay much attention to. That solid grip acted more to quiet her as the man unclipped steel snap hooks securing her shackles to the cage bars so her limbs were free again for the first time since her kidnapping. The woman let go of her forearm and tugged at her by a ring on the back of her collar, pushing her long dark hair out the way to get a firmer hold, taking the remote from a skirt pocket and holding it meaningfully in front of her eyes. Painfully, sniffling as the circulation returned to her cramped limbs, she crawled out of the cage.

 

Outside, with her hands and knees resting on the cold floor, she noticed that short flat-linked hobble chains ran between her wrists and her ankles, making it impossible for her to move them very far apart. Without the steel bars around her, she felt so exposed that her skin spontaneously puckered up in goose bumps. The threat of the shock baton left her cowed and frozen, but she instinctively shrank away from the man. He rested one hand on her flank while the woman bent down and clipped a chain leash to a ring on the collar below her chin. She tried whimpering plaintively: it had no effect. Man and woman both grabbed her bodily and hoisted her up on to the top surface of a cold ceramic slab.

 

On the table, the man used some kind of screw catch arrangement to fasten her shackles to one rim, so that she was held down on her side in a fixed semi-foetal crouch. The chill ceramic made her gooseflesh worse, and she wriggled and whined, craning her head up to try to meet her handlers' eyes, mouth open in that dry-throated pointless mewling. But her captors might have been even more mute than her for all the noise they made, as they busied themselves around her like poulterers stuffing a goose. The man took a fistful of her hair and held her head down with it, forefinger extended to rest lightly, warningly on the nape of her neck. Meanwhile, the woman seized her still not fully mature breasts and palpitated them, squeezing the rugose nipples hard and smoothing them both flat with the heel of a palm. It was like a gynae examination back in the girls' clinic, but the sudden shock of it in that setting made her jerk and almost lunge against her bonds. The man's hand tightened, and the woman's fingernails tweaked her nipples sharply, before those hands left her breasts and glided downwards, pausing to press at her bulging bladder. Then they squeezed between her legs and pinched the lobes of her cunt.

 

With a bizarre unvoiced yelp, she really did lunge this time, only to have her head forced down by the man. The woman moved around behind her and pushed a finger up her crack. She squirmed, but the icy penetrating presence was still there, feeling colder inside her than the tabletop. Now she started panting again, faster and faster until she was hyperventilating hysterically with the man's hand clutching her neck. All the time the woman's finger probed deftly inside her, past where the absent hymen would have been, touching the entrance to her cervix. Then it withdrew and slid gently up her perineum over the short distance to her anus. She froze as the slightlę moistened nail tentatively twisted back and forth for a second, then it pushed steadily in. She bucked once more, straining to get away from the invading finger, but the man's grasp on her neck prevented her from using even the small degree of movement she had. The woman withdrew smoothly, and the hand let go of her neck as both adults stepped back from the table. Then the savage shock hit her again, for longer this time. Her limbs locked, tears burst from the corners of her eyes, and her mouth opened in a gasping worldess scream that continued long after the current had stopped.

 

Quickly, the man reached forward and pushed a plastic ring like a tubular pacifier into her open mouth. Now she could make even less sound, and she bit at the hard plastic fruitlessly. The woman took a long perspex dropper pipette from a trolley by the table and sucked up a few cc's of a clear fluid from a glass jar. Then, as the man held her nose between two fingers and her jaw in his other hand, the woman threaded the pipette carefully through the plastic ring and to the back of her throat. She froze again, terrified of breaking off the tube inside her windpipe, and noticed that both of their hand smelled of some sanitary chemical, with the faint trace of her sex on the woman's fingers. The woman squeezed the rubber bulb on the far end of the pipette, and she felt that strange numbness at the back of her throat spread and deepen a little, realizing now how much sensation had already faded from there. The woman slid the pipette out and put it back on the tray.

 

The man opened her mouth a little wider, and pulled the ring back out. This time, she lay passively and let him, petrified that she might get another shock. He unfixed the catches securing her shackles to the table, took her in his arms, the starchy cotton of his blue coat scratching her bare skin slightly, and lifted her down. She hung in his arms for a moment in a curled-up dead-dog posture, and he had to shake her to make her put her arms and legs down to stand on all fours again. All the while, the woman held the other end of the leash clipped to her collar, letting it hang slack.

 

Once she was back on all fours, the man produced a glass bottle with a long bent metal spout, the kind used on rabbit hutches, and held it to her mouth. She was too thirsty to refuse, and sucked at it eagerly enough. The water had an impure, brackish taste, and she wondered in passing what was in it, but she thought also that if she swallowed enough, it might wash away the stuff at the back of her throat. The woman watched them both impassively, holding the leash. The man tilted up the bottle a little more, almost like a mother feeding a baby, then lifted it away.

 

The woman waiting for a short but seemingly calculated moment, like the pause before a movement in music, then gave a sharp tug on the leash, and she crawled forward, forced to follow, with the man pacing her at her side, his fingers idly trailing along her spine. Throughout her whole ordeal, they had never once exchanged a word between each other. The woman led her along the floor, the hard smooth epoxy harsh on her knees, giving her a groin-level view of more tables, steel trolleys and bare white walls. Then they stopped outside a white-painted door. The woman turned the steel knob and pushed it open, still holding the leash, and flicked a switch to one side. Strip lights blinked and flickered into life in the room beyond. As the woman tugged her forward into it, she saw that it was a more basic, crudely finished cell, with red distemper on the walls and a wet smell, with the drip drip of water from a brass faucet ringing off the walls.

 

The woman pulled her over towards one wall, the rougher cement scuffing her knees, where she noticed a line of oval holes in the floor. In front of each hole was a big steel ring, fixed to a bracket secured by large tough-looking bolts. With a sideways tug, the woman dragged her over the nearest hole and looped the end of the leash through the ring. Another tug, and the leash pulled her head down closer to the floor, forcing her to bend her arms outwards and spread her knees. She could feel a slight cold draught coming up through the hole, breathing on the inside of her legs. The man stood beside her and gave her a single gentle yet insistent push in the small of her back.

 

She shrank from acknowledging what they wanted her to do, quivering and whimpering. With a single short exasperated sigh, the woman bent down and reached past her midriff, gently massaging her distended bladder. A drop or two of piss squeezed out of her urethra, warm and itching. She tried to clench her hips, shutting out the intrusion, while the woman kept up the tension on the leash. Off on one side, the man slipped away quietly and came back with something like a bloated hot water bottle with a plastic hose hanging from the bottom.

 

She cringed as he disappeared behind her: the tension on her collar kept her from lifting and turning her head. There was a soft slurping sound, then a sudden tingling pressure around her anus. He was coating her arse with some kind of cool smooth paste. She gasped and jerked forward as a lubricated fingertip slipped inside and started insinuating itself into her tightly shut sphincter, cramming in dollops of the paste that eased its entry. No matter how she tried to squeeze it out, his finger slid in; it was like a bizarre backwards version of trying to catch a greased pig. Finally he seemed satisfied and withdrew, and she relaxed a bit in relief despite herself, only to feel a hard round thing push at her softened hole.

 

She writhed and struggled, but the leash held her. The plastic nozzle, oiled up and slightly warmed, slipped snakelike inside her, pushed with measured, unrelenting pressure by the man. Mouth agape in a dry-throated half-muted howl, she shook her hips from side to side, trying to dislodge it, but the pressure kept up, unimpeded, sliding the tube further into her. Powerless to stop it, she felt separated from her own body, a prisoner in a meatspace she could no longer will or alter. Then a sensation like an audible thud pulled her back, as some kind of flange or thickening brought the tube up short against her arse. Her trembling hips pivoted round the intruder as she fought against the ghastly stretched sensation, in vain. She half saw, half felt the shadow of the man's arm raised above her, heard inchoate barely audible noises, then felt something thick and oily run down the tube into her.

 

The pressure of the liquid, the odd heavy feeling, quietened her struggles, but she started to sob, tears stinging her eyes and dropping onto the cement. The woman kept her head low to the ground, well below her hips, as more and more of the fluid filled her. At least it was close to body temperature, but all the same her guts started to cramp and spasm painfully, trying to expel it and the hose. The man did something and the flow stopped. Then he slid the nozzle out of her in one smooth motion, as the woman reached under her flanks and massaged her bursting guts. There was no stopping the spasms, and she sobbed brokenly as the oily mixture of fluid and half-dissolved shit spurted out of her, soiling the edges of the hole. The woman kept running a hand down her stomach until every last stool was expelled. Then the man wiped her clean with a wet cloth.

 

Dazed and in shock, she was hardly able to move by herself, let alone resist, as they led her out of the room and back to her cage. They backed her into it by half reaching through the bars and pulling her limbs, then secured the shackles again on either side. After that, they simply turned and walked out of the room, turning off the lights as they went. Her throat and anus both felt dry and raw, and she had a raging thirst. Crouched in the dark and bound in place, with her guts still aching and cold sweat glueing her straggling hair to her face and back, despite her position chained in the cage, she somehow managed to cry herself to sleep.

 

A cold splash shocked her awake, gasping and spluttering, the freezing drops shattering the light before her blinking eyes as they ran off her body. The man standing by the cage heaved another bucket over her, the half-melted ice shavings in the water stinging her skin. Two others stepped up to the cage as she tried to shake the water away, and bent down on either side, freeing her shackles. All three wore the same blue coats, hanging open, and short black batons at their belts. The first, the one who had pushed the enema hose into her ass, set down his tin bucket, unlocked the cage's front gate, opened it, reached in, clipped a chain leash to her collar under her chin as his companions on either side held her wrists, and unceremoniously yanked her out.

 

Wide-eyed, she stared at the new object that stood, cryptic and ominous, on the floor of the room: a low saddle arrangement in dark leather and steel. Rings were welded just above the feet of each of its four canted legs. The two men either side of her took her by her shoulders and heaved her up over the saddle, her chains still linking wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle, while the one who had drained her before unclipped her leash. The others fastened her shackles to the four rings at the saddle's four corners.

 

Spreadeagled, she shook and moaned. The man she knew produced a big woollen bath towel and toweled her dry with it: the  rough fibres after the shock of the icy water left her skin tingling. He rubbed up over the curves of her arse, held almost higher than her head now, and down her exposed cleft. Her mouth flopped open. Then his towel-wrapped hand lifted away, came back empty, stroked the opened folds of her cunt with callused blunt-ended fingers. She whimpered. There was the same sticky moist sound and chemical smell as before, when he had given her the enema, and she cringed. Wet fingertips daubed a little cold jelly onto her. Then, with the coarse ripping noise of him opening his zip, he pushed himself inside.

 

Unlike many girls her age, she had had some experience, or a couple. But the clumsy, hesitant fumbling of the boys she had known, who had known her, had left her unprepared for this raw force. His thighs squashed her against the frame, now creaking musically in time with his thrusts. That it did not hurt, much, and that she could not struggle, resist, change her position, only made it more shocking. It was like she was hardly there, all the time feeling him deeper inside her than anything else had ever been. His tempo accelerated and she cried out incoherently as his heavy torso pressed her body against the leather and metal. Then he started jerking mechanically, as though something kept dragging him back inside her, each time squeezing a groan out of her. The cycle stretched on endlessly, pounding and bruising, before finally he ebbed and pulled out of her, triggering another shocked groan when his hot sperm splashed on to her leg. One of the others took his place, grasped her by both shoulders, lined himself up, and pushed in, as careless of her as if he was stuffing a splayed roasting bird.

 

This one stood more erect, she noticed dimly, and handled her body more. Her first rapist moved to stand by her head, absently resting a meaty hand on the back of her neck as he watched the other man fuck her. Sweat was running off her now, hers and the men's. This time hurt less, with less crushing pressure on her body, but otherwise the same triphammer rhythm, pounding her pelvic girdle into the frame. Mouth hanging open, she panted as though to keep up, too overwhelmed even to moan.

 

Her second abuser dug his fingers deep into the flesh of her hips, pulled her against him, jerked his load into her, and withdrew with a parting slap across her arse. The third man hurried to take his place, bringing pressure of a different kind, for he was fat, and seemed to have some trouble penetrating her. Finally he found a position, half-lying across her with his soft fat enfolding her back, thrusting into her less deeply than the others. His motions set up sympathetic ripples in his fat that went up and down her bare skin, and his sweating bulk was hot as if she was being suffocated in oven-fresh dough. She tried to thrash her head from side to side, but the heavy hand pincered the back of her neck, holding her still. The fat rapist panted out his orgasm then slumped across her, squashing her down. After a few moments of that sticky mass stifling her, he heaved himself off.

 

Three men's sweat drying on her, three men's cum seeping from her red and distended hole, she itched and ached with filthiness. Helpless to ease that frantic need to wipe herself all over, her hands clenched and unclenched in their shackles. The men exchanged some of the first words she had heard since her disappearance, in a language she didn't understand or even recognize. They seemed to be discussing her: one laughed. They were relaxed and good-humored, no tension or anger in their voices. But then one moved back behind her and pushed a hard leathery rod against her cunt.

 

The open, bruised surfaces burned at the abrasion. It lifted away, then with a whistling of air, cracked against her right thigh, stitching a scalding red line of pain along her flank. The first stroke shocked the breath out of her: at the second, she howled wordlessly, mouth open in an o. The whipper varied the rhythm, sometimes pausing, sometimes beating a tattoo of a few together, leaving her unable to predict and brace for the next one. He laid on hard with measured force, and she knew he was holding back. But one red flare of pain followed another, moving over her, first her buttocks, then the back of her thighs, then ominously deeper between, crack after crack. Her head spun, tears burst from her ducts, each stroke bursting behind her eyes. She could not figure it out: was she being punished? What had she done wrong? Were they disappointed? Did they just enjoy hurting her? She quailed as the strokes slatted lower and lower down the soft flesh of her inner thigh.

 

Finally, the man inhaled, hesitated, and swung from the shoulder right on to her cunt. She jerked forward, straining against the limits  of her chains. The pain was so bad it was not like a sensation: she felt more like a runaway train had smashed into her. Her vision blurred and went dark, her head slumped, she half fainted. Too stunned to tense, she waited slackly for another stroke, but it never came: apparently satisfied with his handiwork, the man stepped back. But then the slim one reached forward, knotted his hand in her straggling sweat-drenched hair, pulling at the roots, lifted her drooping head up, unzipped his fly with one stroke, and crammed his hardening dick into her open mouth.

 

Her half-shut eyes opened wide as the hot salty meat slid back along her tongue. Three men's sweat and juices mixed with hers made it taste revoltingly like the after squeezings from soiled panties, and she gagged automatically. The man's thin wiry hand twisted savagely in her hair, and she forced herself to keep her mouth open and not bite, still aware how spread she was with the echoes of the shock from that last crop stroke ringing like a migraine behind her eyes. He pushed in and out of her, and she fought for breath, trying to inhale when he pulled out, drawing on dazed memories of teasing limp adolescent penises, dribbling around it, tasting some new different element growing in the horrible cocktail. Trying to wipe her mind of what she knew was coming, she focused on keeping her mouth still and slack. Something in that obviously did not please him, and he tightened his grip on her neck, pushing at the back of her throat. Her eyes and cheeks bulged. Then the vile thick warmth at the back of her mouth seemed to gather and burst with his last thrust, and his sperm spurted down her throat. She choked a little, but mercifully was able to keep from trying to close her mouth as his spasms hosed then jetted then finally dribbled into her. He let go of her hair and pulled out, but, as her head drooped again, cupped his hand sharply under her chin with a teeth-jarring crack, pressing her palm against her squeezed-shut lips, so she could not let the gelid cum run out of her mouth. With no choice, she choked down the glutinous mess.

 

The three men rocked back on their heels, arms folded, looking down at her, grotesquely like three workmen resting on their shovels. Then the first one reached down, unlatched her shackles, slid both his arms under her goosefleshed midriff, and lifted her off the saddle bodily. Her arms and leg hung down limply on either side as he cradled her, ałmost gently, and carried her over to her cage. The others opened the door for her and he slotted her inside. Slumping against the bars on one side, she let them lift her wrists and ankles, limp and toneless as a baby's neck, and secure them. Then the cage door clanged shut and they left her alone.

 

Cramps in her limbs nagged at her, but far less insistently than the smarting pains from her thighs and the gaping agony of her cunt. Though she could not feel any lacerations, the bruises, strains and grazes were bad enough. Anxious to rinse the residue of the cum out of her mouth, she lifted her aching jaw to sip at the angled metal spout of the water bottle that hung on the outside of her cage like something off a rabbit hutch. But with the first drops, she recognized, horrified, where the strange brackish taste she had noticed in the water was coming from; some of that same hideous flavour was already diluted in the water. Appalled, she spat it out, letting it run on the floor of the cage, sobbing dryly, adding a burning thirst to her other pains. Then, completely exhausted, she closed her eyes and sank into the waiting dark.

When they woke her again, it was the woman who prodded at her through the cage bars then unlocked the gate. The man, who she was beginning to think of as her keeper, same as with a caged animal at the zoo, did his offices with her shackles as before. Then the woman nudged her again, with something cold and hard that she recognized as the tip of the prod. Knowing better now than to risk another jolt, she crawled painfully out, more conscious of the aching bruises round her cunt with her rapist standing over her.

 

Once she was leashed, the woman led her back to the examination table and lifted her onto it. Although they strapped her down as before, this time she submitted to the woman's examination without a struggle, figuring that nothing worse would be coming. Only when the woman gagged her and slid the pipette into her throat did she choke and wriggle feebly for a moment. But the woman held back for a second; and, once it was clear the dropper was not coming out, she relaxed and let the end of the tube dose the back of her throat with the numbing liquid.

 

The woman eased the pipette out and turned back to the silver tray of instruments. This time, she came back with a big glass-barreled syringe. Watching the woman pierce the foil cap of a little ampoule and suck its contents up into the syringe, she whimpered through the ring gag that was still in her mouth. Her keeper laid his hands on her flank, perfectly still, half consoling, half threatening. The woman turned back to the examination table and picked up one of her shackled hands, massaging the heel of her palm between thumb and forefinger, then drove the needle firmly into the meat. She moaned at the first sharp pain, but once the woman pressed the plunger home and injected the drug into her hand a dull numbness banished it, spreading towards her fingers, like the feeling in the back of her mouth only more so. She jerked again as the woman seized her other hand, but her resistance was perfunctory.

 

Once the needle was out, she twitched her hands experimentally. They felt muffled, fuzzy, as though they were sandwiched in big soft mittens: she doubted she could get a proper hold on anything. The woman took one of her fingers, then another, pulled and twisted and revolved it, and let go, seemingly satisfied. All the while she felt no pain, no pricking of those sharp fingernails on her skin: her fingers might as well have been on some other girl's body.

 

Now the woman moved behind her to join the man, and she squirmed and tilted her head round: already she was growing more nervous each time they went out of sight. And she had not seen or heard the woman put down the syringe. The two figures shuffled vaguely behind her; there were some indistinct mutterings in the same incomprehensible tongue, then those same long-nailed fingers rested briefly on her thin buttocks and she felt that sharp piercing pain in the rim of her anus.

 

She let out a yelp and pulled away, but the woman had already withdrawn the needle and that telltale numbness was diffusing around her anal ring. She felt something loosen and slacken, she did not feel like she could have held back the shit if she had needed to defacate. She cried, but more through shock than discomfort: it was embarrassing to have so little control, almost infantile. When the man put his hands on her, she responded for an instant almost like a child to its parent's embrace before she realized what he was actually doing.

 

She heard the same soft liqud noise that had preceded her enema, and cringed. His hands were busy around her ass, but with the numbness from the injection she could no longer feel clearly what was going on. The woman put a hand on her neck, but this time as more than just a caution: the fingers knotted in her hair as her keeper grabbed her hips on either side and lifted her pelvis to a half-kneeling position. She knew what that meant by now.

 

She felt his first penetration no more clearly than she had his hands. Only a dim uncomfortable crammed feeling deeper inside her made her more directly aware of his cock buggering her. With her anal ring completely relaxed, there was nothing at all she could do to squeeze him out; her anus was stretched around his shaft with abject ease and passivity. The cramped distended feeling in her ass made her feel that she should shit,  but his phallus was already too far up inside her for her to push against and thrusting the other way. She sobbed out her wretched degradation as he pumped harder and stronger, breathing more heavily. The vague tantalizing lack of sensation was almost vexing; if she could talk she would have shouted at them to at least leave her her pain. Without it, her fear and anger seemed oddly pointless, unjustified. Finally, he jerked her hips back and forth a few times, gasped, and pulled himself out, her sphincter still clinging around him as though reluctant to let him go.

 

She sagged back on her side, still sobbing dryly. Her mouth opened but only a vague mooing sound came out of it. Her still numb anus did not hurt yet, above a dull, distant ache. Her keeper's hand brushed the back of her neck, almost affectionately: she twitched under his fingers. The woman loosened her gag, grasped and squeezed her body in a few places, palpated her wrists and forearms, then stepped back and unfastened her shackles from the table. She hung limp in her keeper's arms as he lifted her down. Once on the floor, she slumped hopelessly on her side again, and it took the threat of the woman's prod to make her get up on all fours and crawl back into her cage.

 

Back inside, she shivered as they fixed her back in place. Then the man stepped out of view for a moment. There was a clinking sound, and her returned with a brushed steel dish and an unlabelled can. He set the dish down in front of her cage and, yanking the ringpull on the can lid, opened it, took a spoon from his pocket, and doled out its contents. She eyed the brown mess in the dish. It looked like dog food, and the smell that she caught through the bars was similar, but her stomach rumbled involuntarily and she suddenly realized how hungry she was. Even though it might be dog food, her mouth watered at the sight of the slop. Then her keeper put the empty can down and opened his fly.

 

Disbelievingly, she stared wide-eyed as he pulled out his dick, still visibly red from raping her anus, and stood over the pan. He concentrated, holding his penis between thumb and forefinger, and a few brief spurts of dull golden urine splashed into the dish. Instantly, the almost appetizing odour of the jellied meat was drowned by the acrid reek of hot piss. Her keeper, thankfully not carrying a full bladder load, shook a few last drops off the tip of his glans and zipped himself up again. Horrified, she guessed what that bitter hint of something in her drinking water must be.

 

Whimpering, she tried to back up as he opened the cage door and placed the steaming bowl under her nose. Shaking her head frantically, she screwed her eyes tight shut and wrinkled her nose, trying to shut her nostrils too against the warm sour smell. The horrible thing was that her stomach, empty now for days, kept rumbling regardless. Then the woman stood beside her cage and thrust the prod through the bars, resting its cylindrical barrel across the  back of her neck. She held her head up, trying to keep it above the rank-smelling bowl, but the prod pressed her down. She shook her head from side to side, and the woman stuck the prod hard into the skin of her nape so that she could feel the chill twin metal contacts at its tip. Finally, abjectly, she opened her mouth and took a bite of the contents of the bowl, lukewarm from the piss.

 

The first mouthful had the bitter tang of warm kidneys, but ten times stronger. Her stomach knotted, whether from hunger or nausea she could not tell, but the prod was still thrust in the back of her neck and somehow she managed to keep from throwing up. She choked down the salty mush and took another mouthful, conscious of the pressure on her neck now more than the flavour. In any case, now she had started, the unpleasant taste and soggy warmth was tolerable so long as she could keep her mind off what she was eating. She kept chewing and swallowing mechanically, and her stomach quietened as it filled. Soon the dish was almost empty, but the pressure on her neck was unrelenting, forcing her chin and jaw down into the bowl, pushing her mouth against the metal. The prod tip pivoted, and she realized the woman wanted her to lick the bowl clean. She slid the tip of her tongue out pathetically and started lapping the bowl, discoloured drool slipping from her mouth onto the steel. Finally the bowl was clean, and the prod lifted away from her head. Her keeper opened the cage door, slid the bowl out and closed it again, then the woman removed the water feeding bottle from the cage, obviously wanting the bitter aftertaste in her mouth to stay with her a long time. She hung her head dejectedly.