"A night in Hell, and a life in Haven"
                                                                       f. h. bunny

She wasn't a young woman, just a bit on the high side of 40. It had
taken that long for her life and her spirit to traverse the wasteland that is
proper societies refuge. It's hidden enclaves of taboo sexual practitioners;
groups of disenchanted youth looking for a truth society didn't posses, and
gay Men and Woman having boldly stepped outside of there private closets only
to renter the bigger closet of a lifestyle with it's own social exceptions
and prejudices. All of this had left her with much guilt; no esteem, and as
lost as on the day that her Father had died.
And after two divorces she had found herself in a world that made no
sense to her, and even worse; one in which she had no place nor propose as it
seemed to her. And too, she had carried with her on this journey; the shadowy
baggage of everyone else's need for conformity; the chains of her 40 years on
earth.
It was no wonder then that she had turned to suicide for her answer;
this as her search and her life had left her so overwhelmingly unfulfilled.
Oh, there were the small successes like finding an e-mail list where she was
excepted if not well understood at first. There too, were her online
experiences with two Male Dominants' that had so immeasurably helped
to guild  her lives course even in the depths of her depression.
And then there was a young Man that had become her best friend in the
months of isolation that her journey had culminated in thus far. He maybe
most of all, being of the greatest help. This as He too shared her trek as
well as some of her disappointments, and some of her pain too! She and the
young Man had spent very many hours online together, whether it was in a
private "IM" with Him alone, Or at times, the two of T/them along with
another Friend of T/there's. Then too, T/they spent much time in two
different "Mushes" with E/each O/other.
And in the rich and descriptive environment of the mush where T/they
both had to act and speak in combination with O/one A/another quite often;
this is where T/they may have gotten to know and trust E/each O/other the
most. And it was there on the mush that both of T/them interacted with very
Dominant Sadist's, thus exposing T/there innermost feeling, fears and
pleasures to O/one A/another along the way; not unlike
T/two children playing in a sand box.
You see, camille (that was the woman's name) and the young Man were
both slaves'. T/they both played on the mush just as if it had been real life
for T/them, this as both of T/them were slaves' in real life as well. Both of
T/them living in independent Dominant/submissive style relationships centered
on T/there respective Owners' lives. The young Man was a "torture slave", the
property of a Sadist. And camille too, thought that she was a torture slave
as well. And maybe it is for this reason that the story is written. camille's
Owner was not as sadistic as the young Man's Owner was. But what she didn't
know at the time, was that she would soon get everything that she ever wanted
in a Sadist, and then some……..

Now, as it turned out, The Mistress that owned camille was to take a
one-week vacation starting the next day. And if that were not enough, The
Mistress told camille that She would be taking her to a local Dungeon that
very Saturday night. And camille was told what she was to wear as well. Her
attire was to consist of a long black leather-like dress appropriate to her
station as This Mistress' slave. The dress was full and gracefully flowing in
the skirt, and hung to the ankle. It was cinched tight from the hips to just
beneath the breasts with lacing down the front. Above that the short sleeves
were in the "Juliet style" with a low gathered neckline to match. And under
the dress camille was to wear only white slave silk at her waist.
As the week dallied on, camille's Mistress would say nothing more to
her about the up coming night. Camille found herself thinking endlessly of
 what was to happen to her the night of the Dungeon, this as it had been a
while sense her Mistress had taken her out to use. And then too, there had
been the strange way that her Mistress had been treating her the last several
weeks. It was uncharacteristic to say the least. It had started when camille
 had sent her Mistress a copy of a post that she had made to an e-mail list
 that she was on. It gave camille's opinion on what place love and slavery
 held in relationship to one another in D/s. camille's Mistress had only said
to her after reading it; that things would change. But not a word on how that
would manifest it's self in camille's service to her Mistress.
Well, in due course the night of the dungeon had come. And as her
Mistress was walking camille from where the car was parked to the building
where the dungeon was to be, The Mistress was very quite if not solemn. Up to
that point, camille herself had been looking forward to the possibility of
meeting new People and seeing new things. If there was one thing that her
Mistress could depend on with her, it was that camille would almost always
 have a child's exuberance where it came to accompanying and serving her
Mistress in public situations. Camille always liked Others to know that she
was owned and wanted. But as she walked along just to the left and ever so
 slightly behind her Mistress, camille's thought's turned to a pervasive fear
of hers. And so she thought to ask her Mistress there in the dark of the side
street where the dungeon was located……. "Mistress, will You make sure that
camille serves You well, and does everything that You ask of her. She doesn't
 want to let You down in any way, Ma'am". And it was to this question that her
 Mistress answered camille by saying, "you have nothing to fear, little-one.
 You will do just fine tonight….." and with that, camille opened the heavy
door to the dungeon for her Mistress, and followed Her inside.

Once inside, camille found herself assaulted by the loud music and
happily socializing Men and Woman. The place was much more crowded then
camille had ever seen it before. But without hesitation, she stayed
respectfully behind her Owner as T/they walked through the crowed. Once or
twice her Mistress had stopped to say "hi" and talk with SomeOne She knew
 from when She had been a "DM" at the dungeon. When this would happen, her
  Mistress would signal her where she was to wait on her knees, this by
pointing with two fingers that would be either spread or together. If
Mistress' fingers were spread, it meant that she should kneel "Nadu" (with
 knees wide apart). If Mistress' fingers were together, then that meant that
she was to kneel "Tower Nadu" (with knees together). Camille would obey her
Mistress in silence and do her best to stay out of every Ones way, as any
good slave should. Though While kneeling there at her Owner's feet with her
eye's respectfully lowered, camille couldn't help but let her eye's wonder
off to sneak a peek at all the strange things going on around her. But as
quickly as her eye's would stray, she would return them to her Mistress'
hand's so she would catch the next command what ever that would be.
It wasn't easy to gracefully kneel in a long dress, and regaining
her feet was even harder in 4-inch heels. So the second time she was on her
knees, camille removed her shoes and hung them on the strap on the small bag
she had been permitted to bring. Dress or no, she always felt more natural as
well as graceful bear footed. Once her Mistress told her to fetch drinks for
Her and the Person that She was talking to. Now this was nothing new for
camille, this as she had been to the dungeon often with SomeOne that she had
been given too as a service slave. But this time something was different.
People who recognized her always said hello, but this time People just looked
at camille and said nothing. It wouldn't have mattered much as she didn't
have her Mistress' permission to talk anyway. But it was like EveryOne
already knew it, and said nothing to camille making her feel very much alone
there among the crowd. She found it quite disconcerting, but went on about
her duty and returned with the drinks to her Mistress. Giving both of them to
Her and kissing the rim of the one intended for the Mistress HerSelf.
After that, camille's hands were fastened in front of her at the
waist with a light chain intended for female slaves alone. The chain tightly
circled camille's waist and hooked to the Gorean steel bracelets that
Mistress always kept on camille's wrists. Then camille's Mistress moved her
to a little corner by a couch and gave the silent command for "Nadu", which
camille then promptly did. Soon after that, camille saw her Mistress talking
to a "DM" that both she and her Mistress knew well. The "DM" was pointing at
the wall where there were eyebolts fastened at a height above camille's head.
At that point she overheard her Mistress say that *that* would do fine. The
next think that camille knew was that she was ordered to rise and then lead
to the wall in question by her Mistress. The "tool bag" was already waiting
there when camille was again ordered to her knees.
 And there at the wall, while she waited. Camille let her eye's
again wonder around the dungeon, but this time it was with a bit of
 trepidation on her part. The dungeon was quite full of submissive' in all
stages of restraint and flogging, but it was mostly what camille's best
friend and her called "vanilla BDSM", and not the least bit scary to her as
she had seen this sort of thing many times before. No One ever really did
anything truly verging on Sadism at a public dungeon because everything had
to be "SSC". And camille knew that the Sadism she respected was anything but
"SSC". And too, she suspected that few dungeon patrons really understood
slavery in the context of S&M as she and her Friend did. So there she
 kneeled, wondering just what her Mistress had in store for her this night.
Camille knew that whatever it was, she would see it through. After all, that
was both her obligation and her pleasure. Camille was a slave, and this was
 her Mistress, and her Owner. And if anything could be said of camille, it
would be that she was devoted to the one that owned her. So their camille
knelt, her back to the wall in more ways then one. Not knowing what was to
happen next, but then, it wasn't her right to know, as she was just a slave.
 She hadn't long to wait or wonder.

It was about then that camille's Mistress reached down and took the
small Gorean chain from around her waist. The Mistress had two leather cuffs
in Her hand, and with that camille knew that she was to present herself to be
bound. So camille stretched both arm's out, wrists crossed and palms up. Then
lowering her head between her arms, camille was now in the ritual Gorean
position of submission where the leather cuff's could be easily buckled round
the slave's wrists. With that, her Mistress motioned for her to rise to her
feet. Mistress then, with one easy movement, reached behind camille and
lowered the zipper on the back of the dress that camille wore. This wasn't a
shock to camille as she had become accustomed to being naked both in and out
of private at her Mistress' pleasure. The dress slipped silently to the floor
and she stepped out of it. When that was done, the Mistress revealed a
triangle steel ring about three inches on the side. It had snaps at each of
its three corners and two of these her Mistress connected to the "D" rings in
the cuffs that camille now wore. She was then ordered to face the wall with
 her arms high above her head. With that, camille's Mistress fastened the
remaining snap that hung from the triangle of steel to the eyebolt on the
wall. This had the effect of stretching camille's body almost to the point of
having to stand on tippy toes, but not quite.

  The Mistress then busied HerSelf laying out the tools that would
presumably be used on Her property. For her part, camille couldn't help but
 look beneath her arm down to where her Mistress was sorting Her chosen tools
to see what sting, bite, cut or pinch she would soon be reeling from. And it
 startled her to see that that everything that she didn't like was there. This
included a large bag of wooden clothespins and several strings. And too, a
light whip with only about 9 tails; all of which were of shoe lace size
leather strains that were very stiff. Camille thought to herself that she
would much rather have seen a beaded slave whip then that one. But she said
nothing, turning her head away and trying hard to forget the
picture that had lodged in her mind.
Camille was trying hard to remember what she had learned, this being to
breath regularly and deeply when she felt her Mistress' warm breath on the
back of her neck, and heard her Mistress softly whisper into her ear…….
 Even though to this day camille can't remember what it was that her Mistress
 whispered in her ear that night. What she does remember is that from the
first kiss of the 2-inch leather striker on the sweet parts of her ass and
back, she was in sharp and unrelenting pain. Not the type that one could let
sink in and pass right through them. But instead, it was the type that sucked
one right back into the reality of the moment with every bite. Sadists don't
ramp up anything, and her Mistress was no exception to this. camille was soon
overwhelmed by the stinging of the leather, and trying to avoid each new blow
before it had landed. After what seemed like forever, her Mistress changed to
the worst and most painful whip that She had. It was the one with the stiff
shoestring tails, and Mistress was purposely wrapping it around the side of
her tummy and over her shoulders. It seemed to camille that she feel each
 individual strand of that whip. And this is why she hated it so. She knew
better then to count the strokes as a way of calming herself, as she knew
 from experience that doing so would just cause her to anticipate the next
blow.
Camille was soon devastated by her failure to take what she was
being given, and should she have had a safe word she surly would have used it
by then. She was very much ashamed of herself and did her very best to regain
some control. She frantically told herself to breathe while she close her
eyes to concentrate. But she was fighting the tears and her fear. And
thinking to herself that she would not last the hour, much less the night.
Camille had lost all track of how long it lasted, but somehow through it all
she managed to keep her wits until her Mistress chose to stop. What camille
felt next was the loving hands she knew so well on her back as if to reassure
her of her Mistress' love for her. Mistress' hands were wet but it didn't
matter as it was sooooo soothing……… Ohhhhh! OMG! It was burning and she
tried hard to squirm away from her Owners touch, but to no avail. Mistress
was whispering in her ear from behind something about the alcohol making
everything feel so much better as She creased the girl's back and bottom.
 When Mistress had stopped, camille was told to turn around and face the
dungeon while still hanging from the eyebolt in the wall; the Mistress
unhooking her then hanging her again facing out away from the wall that had
become her only way to keep everyone in the dungeon from seeing her in her
shame, and near tears. She was now aware that she had been both panting and
sweating during the whipping as well. She was out of breath and could see the
droplets trace their paths down her tummy and sides.
But still, the intense whipping had stopped and her Mistress hadn't
even removed her silks the whole time. It was then that camille, having fully
gathered her wits, looked down to see her Tormentor getting a respectful hand
full of clothespins and a length of string. Camille remembered back to when
her Master had first taught her the "zipper". Her inner children were so
thrilled at His attention that she took the zippers just fine till it was
time to rip the three of them off. The one on her labia teaching her a whole
new meaning for the word "anguish"! camille hadn't long to remeness before
 her Mistress, without uttering a word, started placing a line of clothespins
with a common string leading between each jaw, around her left breast about 2
 to 3 inches from the nipple. Needless to say, this made camille start
 squirming again.
And before long, there too, was a line of pins running across her
 right breast from side to side with one squire on her nipple, this time. But
  camille was doing well all things considering. Even as Mistress started
playing with the zippers like the keys of a piano with Her fingers, camille's
pain was still within her control. She even noticed that her Mistress seemed
a bid dismayed as She reached for yet another big hand full of clothespins.
 And it was this third line of pins that changed camille's demeanor as well,
 and this time it was to one of total horror and panic. So much so, that she
found herself begging her Tormentor not to do it!
The white silk hanging like a loincloth over the center of her sex,
was tugged away in one swift motion by her Mistress. And camille shivered in
fear for where the next zipper would be. The pins were going on the very
tender skin in the cress between her leg and the round of her sex. Every pin
of the zipper was immediately intolerable, and as the number of them
increased, so too did camille's begging witch had now turned to
intermittently tearful pleading. She just couldn't take any more, and too,
she was starting to feel faint. The cold sweat had returned as well. But
Mistress, Her mood seemingly more heightened now, continued on till her
supply of clothespins were depleted. Even the "DM"s Who had only been
intently watching up till this point (as camille was later told), were
apparently insisting that the girl had been through enough, and that she
should be cut down and taken to a quite room in the back. But Mistress would
have nothing of this, telling them that it was nonconsensual and that camille
was Her property and She knew her best. What her Mistress was saying was all
quite true, but had camille known that someone was trying to stop the
session, her shame for crying out so would have been more then the pain it's
self. After all, this was how she chooses to live and please an Owner. And
either she learned to do so or she was no slave at all; torture or otherwise.
Camille later was glade that she'd known nothing of the controversy at the
time.
At that point Mistress put Her hands to both ends of the first zipper.
And seeing that camille was looking on in now silent sobbing, She teased the
girl some though camille didn't understand why at the time. And in due
course, the zipper was pulled and all that camille could remember was her
jumping and screaming and trying to turn toward the wall to protect the two
zippers that were left. But her Mistress' commanding voice came to her ear's
telling her in no uncertain terms to present herself as she had been
positioned before. The memory of the Mistress' discipline and the fear of Her
punishment overriding the anguish of the moment. Camille was then blindfolded
by Mistress. And the second zipper was pulled after some long minutes of
fearful anticipation. And with much the same results as the first. But now it
was time for the zipper in between camille's legs, and she knew from
experience that it would be a gagging nauseating pain that she would be in
for if she couldn't dissuade her Tormentor form repeating the first two
zippers with her pleading. Camille was crying openly now, begging and
pleading, as never she had in her life. And in the end, it only made her
Mistress revel in it all the more. Because, pull it, She did. And after the
enviable jumping and screaming and dancing around, camille just hung there on
that meat hook in the wall. Her legs could no longer hold her weight, nor did
she care that her Mistress was now gently rubbing alcohol over the welts on
her breasts and lower abdomen. The stinging pain just passing through her as
if it were someone else that was suspended there in that dungeon.
With that, camille was cut down to collapse on the floor at the wall.
The only thing holding her from lying down completely was the small shiny
Gorean "serik chain" running from her Mistress' collar at camille's neck to
the same eyebolt that she so recently hung from on the dungeon wall above her
head. Camille was spent, and the pride with witch she had held her head up
when she had walked into that dungeon had left her as well. She was only
slave meat now, and having been tortured to what ends she did not well
understand. Even her Owner disdained to touch her in compassion as she sagged
there in a heap on the dungeon floor. Little did she know that her ordeal had
not yet run its course. For her part, camille soon returned to her knees and
stretching the small chain to it's limits, the collar pulling tightly on her
neck making it hard for her to breathe. The girl kissed and licked at her
Owner's left leg in and effort to demonstrate her devotion and prevail on the
Mistress' humanity for a conclusion to her fear and pain for at least the
time being.
But soon she was again ordered to her shaky feet and hung facing the
wall she had come to call friend. Little more then that does she remember
with any clarity, and though this observer has been told the details of the
evening. She too is reluctant to share more then just a synopsis of the
events in question. This to lesson the girls shame and trauma at reliving it
again.
So then surfice it to say that she under went, in the course of that night,
more whippings. More alcohol caresses, and yet more zippers. At least two
"choking", one to unconsciousness or just short of that (it was hard to tell
as camille gave up what life she had left to her Mistress with peaceful
resolve). And yes, camille was given to orgasm as well, or at least what
passes for one with her. But even in that, she has been conditioned so that
she must first pass through a pain threshold before orgasm can be achieved.
And this too, she suffered in front of the patrons of the dungeon, as she
hung there on that now familiar wall. This as if to say that her Mistress
Owned even the most private of moments the girl could experience within
herself. And could, at will, exhibit them to One and All.
In the end, the girl was taken down for last time, covered with a
towel and let alone for a few moments to rest on the floor. This before being
given back the white silk to wear, and taken back out into the social area of
the dungeon where she was ordered to knelt in a corner near the couch on
witch her Owner sat, while talking to some friends of Hers. Camille had lived
through it all, though how she didn't know. She remembered how, during the
torture, she hoped that she would die. how she prayed for death when the
tormenting seemed like it would never cease. And how, when her Mistress had
finely satisfied HerSelf with camille's total surrender in sobbing tears, she
had been cleansed of any thought of pride or shame in her defeat. Was this
what the Mistress wanted out of camille? Was there not simpler ways to get it
from her? Was camille so willful that it could only be taken by force?
Camille wanted to live as Both of her Friends lived, but if she
failed Mistress so miserably, then how in the world would she ever be able to
please The Master, let-alone her best Friends Owner?
Very few people know or understand how much it means for a slave to
have given up absolutely everything to a Dominant Owner that *that* slave has
great respect for. A Dominant for whom, when that slave enters the presents
of, it is required to stand or knelt in some fashion that ritualizes their
total surrender, or "TPE". This just to have that Dominant recognize and test
that surrender by painfully entangling a hand in the hair at the back of
slaves head and looking into it's eye's, maybe just to see the fear or
terror. And then smiling at His or Her work, and Tenderly kissing it, or
simply patting it's head in approval.
<deep longing sigh>
There is just nothing to compare with that sense of belonging
and intimacy.

Camille thought to herself in lonely silence, "Maybe she was just a "twink",
as Louis would say. God how she heated that thought!" But there she knelt, to
one side of the social area, unable to look anyone in the eyes anymore. Then
after a time, she was given street clothes again witch she put on, albeit
painfully. After witch camille was unceremoniously lead out and taken home.
It was very early the next morning (the Mistress' fun had lasted tell long
after midnight), when camille laid down on her Owner's couch and promptly
fell asleep while her Owner had a late snack. camille awaking only long
enough to see the warm smile her Mistress' face as She tucked the comforter
around camille and retired HerSelf to Her Own bed.
The next day camille talked to her best Friend and related as best she
could the events of the night before. After which, He told her that it all
sounded quite familiar to Him. Camille thought that she sensed just a hint of
laughter out of Him as He said this, and she found comfort in her Friend's
reassuring words and demeanor. And too, she thought back to what her Master
once said about "torture slave's". That there's was the hardest slavery of
all slaveries.

The girl "camille", as many may by now have guessed, is one of
"us". And this story is true, and in fact took place little more then a week
ago. The propose for telling the story through camille's eye's is so that
this writer can distance herself from the memory enough to enable her the
emotional isolation needed to draw on the experience without unnecessarily
reliving it. Needless to say, this event was more than just a small step
along the way for fiver & Warren. It has changed "our" view of slavery, and
what "our" Friends go through in Their lives as "torture slave's". It has
brought "fear", "trust" and "respect", to a new level in the D/s relationship
between Mistress Rhea and fiver. It too, has strengthened her resolve to
serve and submit in all things.

the property of RheaRah, Mistress and Owner of fiver