Samantha leaned back in her chair, watching Courtney as she relayed everything that had transpired. She wasn't really surprised Twerp had wound up being strapped. Between her chronic behavior and gradually reawakening defiance and rebellion it was virtually a given that the little slave was going to act up and misbehave. And when you added Courtney's obvious fascination with the punishment strap out and her wanting to try it out, well . . . Samantha knew Twerp had been in for it.

What did surprise her, however, was hearing the rest of Courtney's recitation. How she'd lightly played the crop over her little slave's nipples, and how Twerp had responded. Even that hadn't been too terribly surprising, no. But, having her continue to positively respond when sharply cropped there had been.

Samantha reassured her daughter that she'd done everything just right, that she'd been absolutely perfect, smiling as Courtney breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief then brightly beamed. But part of her mind continued reflecting on what she'd just learned. Was it possible that Twerp was a masochist? Excited and aroused by pain? She had, after all, selected those other items - flogger, riding crop and strap - as part of her 'game' earlier yesterday morning. At the time Samantha had believed she'd done that simply to make her fantasy play more 'real'. And most likely, at that time, that had been all there was to it, too. Certainly Twerp had never positively responded at the thought of being punished with any of those.

But that didn't mean she was innately repelled by them, either. It could be simply a matter of her instinctively yearning and craving having them used on her, but her innocent rational mind overriding those desires with very justifiable fear and terror. So it was quite possible pain was arousing to her. Well, at least moderate amounts, anyway.

Of course, that immediately had rise up in her mind a thoroughly unscrupulous awareness. Although Samantha had never personally done so, she was well aware that a person could be trained to accept, and even crave, pain. Through the cunning use of reinforcements their body conditioned so that pain was arousing, even the thought of pain was stimulating. And Twerp was a literal tabula rasa, a blank slate. It would be easier then child's play to 'program' her as a pain toy.

Then again, if she were already congenitally wired that way, it would be inevitable, during her training, for those desires to become evident. And, if they did, what was she going to do about it?

Samantha flicked a glance at her daughter. One other thing was becoming readily apparent; her daughter was becoming more and more enthusiastic about the proceedings. She enjoyed and delighted in the control and power she had over her slave. And, it seemed, she relished not only the right and authority to discipline and punish her, but also found pleasure and excitement in those acts, in and of themselves.

She was beginning to feel very much as if she'd been strapped into a bobsled, unable to get out, and had just been pushed down the chute. Not only couldn't she return, not only couldn't she stop, but also sensed a very steep slope looming before her. She didn't know what was going to prove the more difficult: reining her desires in or checking Courtney's.

One thing was very assured, however: she might temporarily delay and postpone any study of Twerp's potential response to pain, but she couldn't do so indefinitely. One way or another there was going to come a time when that had to be explored.

However, that was for the future. For now, unless something radically changed, Twerp's training was planned out for the next two days. She wasn't going to like it, no. Not a bit. Unfortunately for her, her likes and dislikes for what would transpire over the following forty-eight hours never entered the picture.

There was no way she could nap. Not with being cuffed as she was, and certainly not with her strapped butt throbbing in time with every heartbeat. So Sasha was wide-awake when Courtney returned. Hopefully with breakfast, as Sasha was starting to feel quite hungry.

Well, it was breakfast. But Sasha was distressed with what it was, and outraged at what was expected of her. For Courtney simply opened the front grill of the cage and set inside two shallow bowls, one of water and one of oatmeal, before stepping back and lounging against one of the other cages. "A slave has five minutes to eat her breakfast," was all she said.

There was no spoon and, even if there had been, Sasha's hands were still cuffed behind her back. She looked up at Courtney with a furious daggered glance. What did she expect Sasha to do? Lap it up like she was a doggy or something!? Because if that's what she expected, there was no way she was gonna do that! No way, no how!

Courtney never said a word, just kept watching Sasha as she lay there glaring and fuming.

Well, I'm not gonna do it! Sasha mentally sputtered. She'll give up after a while and change her mind. And then I can eat like a person and not some sort of caged animal!

Much to her utter shock, dismay and consternation, Courtney didn't change her mind. At exactly five minutes, having periodically checked her small wristwatch, she simply removed both bowls, closed and relocked the grill then walked out, having never said a word the entire time.

Sasha impotently seethed inside her cage. Already her tummy was rumbling. Oatmeal wasn't the greatest thing, no, but it at least was filling. Any minute now Courtney would accept the futility of her foolishness and return with Sasha's breakfast, this time unlocking her cuffs first. Surely she'd understand that Sasha couldn't be expected to eat without her hands! So-o-o-o . . . any minute now. Any minute now . . .

Well, it was a very long time, in fact, before Courtney reappeared. Three and a half hours later, to be precise. And Sasha had long passed being merely hungry. And by now she was furious with Courtney, too, for taking her breakfast away like she had, glaring at her when she walked back to the front of her cage. Her tummy loudly rumbled, audibly so, when Courtney placed the two bowls back inside, just as she had that morning. One of oatmeal and one of water. For all Sasha knew they might even be the exact same ones. And, once again, Courtney simply leaned back against a cage, stating she had five minutes to eat.

Sasha couldn't do this. She just couldn't! It would be mortally humiliating! Just thinking about it made her want to shrivel up inside. But her tummy didn't care at all, and the aroma of the bland oatmeal had it painfully growling. Even her mouth was salivating!

Again all Courtney did was just watch, with an odd, distant, cool expression. Not a gleeful or gloating one, although there was a touch of sparkle to her eyes, true. Sasha deeply shivered, suddenly positive if she didn't eat Courtney would just take it away like she had before. And if she did, maybe Sasha wouldn't get another chance to eat until dinner tonight. And she didn't think she could last that long and, even if she could, what would be the point if Courtney simply did the exact same thing then, too?

It was one of the hardest things Sasha had ever done, first wriggling and squirming that teeniest bit so that her mouth was over the oatmeal bowl, and then extending her small, pink, moist tongue downwards. Her body was a vivid, brilliantly blazing scarlet as, hesitantly at first, she started lapping up the thick, bland, cold gruel. The moment her tongue tasted food her tummy violently growled again, almost knotted with hunger inside.

Haltingly at first then, as the first swallow hit her stomach, faster and faster, Sasha lapped and licked, trying to gather up larger and larger mouthfuls. She'd already wasted several minutes before starting and she was terrified Courtney would take her food away before she'd finished eating it all.

It was an awfully messy way of eating, she was getting it all over her smooth cheeks, small chin and little pert nose but, once she'd started, she didn't care. Her entire world was focused on getting food food food into her tummy. And she loudly whined - but never looked up or stopped desperately eating - when she heard Courtney announce that five minutes were up.

She did look up, however, an expression of utter astonishment and intense gratitude on her messy face, when Courtney softly added, "My slave may keep eating until she is finished." Within moments she was back to eating, actually licking the bowl completely clean to get every last morsel, her tummy still feeling a bit empty inside.

Drinking the water was a bit more difficult. She couldn't actually lap that all that well, so instead pursed her full, pouty lips and sort of sucked it up. At last she was finished, and started wriggling back a little so she could rest her head down on the sheet rather then atop the bowls, only to abruptly freeze when Courtney said, "Hold still."

Sasha was terrified she'd goofed somehow. Although she hadn't any idea what she could have done wrong. Courtney simply walked over then hunkered down at the front of the cage. First she removed the two bowls, then removed two small sealed packets from her pocket. Premoistened towelettes, Sasha realized, watching as Courtney opened one then, with an expression of awed wondrous delight, gently wiped down Sasha's face.

They were lightly lemon-scented, and the fragrance was soothing. Sasha closed her eyes, holding as motionless as possible, at the moment feeling grateful for being cleaned rather then resentful or humiliated. Then lightly shivered, feeling so odd inside when, once Courtney finished using both towelettes, lightly stroked Sasha's hair and cheek. She never said a word the entire time, nor said anything as she finally straightened up, closed and locked the grill, picked up the bowls and left.

Wriggling a bit to get comfy Sasha rested her cheek atop the sheets, her eyes still closed and her tummy now no longer complaining.

Her eyes did fly open, a look of utter astonishment on her face, when she realized her butt didn't hurt like it earlier had. Before, she couldn't have squirmed like she'd just done without wincing and softly gasping. It was still sore, true. Maybe even a little tender. But it was bearable. In fact, more than just endurable, it was actually tolerable.

Sasha was about to discover, albeit she wasn't consciously aware of that revelation, what virtually every other submissive, slave and masochist learned very early on: it was quite exciting and arousing to think about, imagine, and daydream about being punished, and often quite another when that actually happened. Sometimes facing that 'moment of truth' wasn't nearly as arousing as it was picturing that moment.

However, for now, all Sasha could do was think. Picture. Imagine. Replay in her mind that awful, dreadful moment when Courtney had suddenly appeared, like magic, in the locker room, catching Sasha in her willful disobedience. Recall the feelings of dread, dismay, fear and terror as she was made to kneel for her punishment, as she steeled herself for the awful horrible agony of that strap.

Except, now that it was actually over, and had been for some time now, she couldn't quite engender the same sensation of terror at the image of being strapped as she had when it had truly happened to her. In fact, the more she replayed that entire scene in her mind the less terrifying it felt, becoming more exciting and tingly instead.

Sasha restlessly shifted and squirmed as she lay there, mind adrift in retrospection. Actual memory and imaginary daydreams gradually started mingling and blending together. She could unerringly remember all the negative emotions and sensations about everything that had happened to her so far but, astonishingly and surprisingly, when she replayed all of them in her mind she couldn't recreate those same negative feelings.

Well, not anywhere near the intensity they had been at the time. It was more like they were one step removed, almost second-person rather then first-person.

However, she had no difficulties at all in recreating the positive ones. Reawakening the very same tingles, the tight achy tummy . . .

. . . the puckered, hard nipples. The wet pussy.

Sasha softly blushed feeling the latter. But, again, she was surprised and astonished at feeling less embarrassed and humiliated with that happening to her. It didn't seem to upset either her Aunt or Courtney and, in fact, they both seemed pleased when it happened. Pleased and simply accepting, as if it was perfectly normal and natural. In fact, Aunt Samantha had said that very same thing just yesterday.

She was only beginning to accept, herself, that she could feel the way she did because of being tied up. She'd had almost a whole week to subconsciously get used to that concept. And she certainly didn't have any trouble comprehending how that could also occur from being touched and played with. What she didn't understand, not at all, was how the same thing could happen from being embarrassed and humiliated. From being paddled, cropped and strapped.

She wished she had someone she could talk to about all this. Help explain it all to her, help her to understand what was happening to her, both inside and outside. Aunt Samantha surely knew what was going on, but Sasha couldn't think of any way of asking her for help or advice; at least, not any way that wouldn't just result in her being immediately gagged for speaking. Right at this moment, if that meant she had to be strapped down again and treated like an anatomical model by the two of them Sasha wouldn't care, as long as she started getting answers!

Save for that morning's exercise session Sasha had been forcibly inactive since late yesterday evening. Between that and her gradually intensifying tingles (which, considering her daydreams all that week had, in one fashion or another, involved being bound, touched and played with, and 'threatened' with punishments, all of which had actually happened to her now, there was no way her tingles couldn't increase the more she dwelled upon all that had happened . . . and not when all she could do was dwell upon those thoughts and daydreams, having nothing else to do lying there cuffed and 'stored' in her locked cage) Sasha was quite restless during the hour following her lunch.

Restless enough that she was quite eager at hearing someone come into the room, hoping they were coming for her. Coming to let her out and have her do something. Even the normal nervousness and apprehension that appeared whenever they came for her took a far distant second place to her need to just get out and move!

They started running neck-to-neck, however, when Sasha saw it was her Aunt rather then Courtney who had come for her this time, her heart starting to thump and her tummy fluttering. Aunt Samantha didn't say a word as simply unlocked and lowered the rear of the cage. Only then did she speak, and that was to order Sasha to back out of the cage.

Now, considering she was lying on her tummy in a small, cramped cage, with her ankles locked together and her wrists locked behind her back, Sasha didn't see any way she could do that. That, however, didn't stop her from promptly trying to do just that, instantly starting to hump up and attempt wriggling backwards. There wasn't any way she was going to do anything but try immediately doing as told, not with the memory of being strapped so fresh in her mind, and most certainly not with it being her Aunt being the one telling her to do so!

Sasha struggled, wriggling and squirming, fear starting to bud and flower within her as she barely moved. Then froze, biting off a whimper as her Aunt told her to hold still. Sasha lightly shivered when her cuffed small ankles were firmly grasped . . .

. . . then softly gasped, a light airy moan, as she was simply tugged out of the cage, slid across the sheets.

Just the sensation of her tightly puckered nipples grazing along the length of the sheet was enough to send intense tingles racing through her. But the realization of the situation, the mental image of that, only increased their intensity. She was being withdrawn from 'storage'. Unable and incapable of resistance - not that she intended to resist but, if she had . . . she couldn't have done so. Literally handled like an inanimate object. Had she been ordered out of the cage because of something like an impending punishment that Sasha hadn't want to face; had - this time - Sasha desperately wanted to remain safe inside the cage for any reason at all . . .

. . . There would have been nothing she could have done about being just pulled right out, as if a book being taken down off a shelf.

Once Samantha had her far enough out of the cage to reach her cuffed wrists she unlocked both sets of cuffs from each other then had Sasha squirm the rest of the way out. As soon as she cleared the cage Sasha wriggled upright into Tower, kneeling in front of her Aunt as she'd been taught ('Trained', that little inner voice reminded her again) to do. Aunt Samantha's expression didn't change which, as far as Sasha was concerned, was a good thing.

She was told to stand to be leashed, which she did, then her Aunt clipped the leash secure and led her off. Sasha was very careful to keep her posture and position absolutely perfect, having no desire to give either her Aunt or Courtney any reason at all to land on her for anything. At the moment she didn't know which would be worse: being punished a second time or being just stored away again. She wasn't used to being this inactive and it was starting to drive her nuts. She hoped she'd have a chance to do something, even if it was just more slave practice and training. She even wondered, half in dread and half in oddly, breathless yearning, if they'd strap her back down and play with her once again.

Aunt Samantha led her outside, then across the main room and over to the other side, to the door to the movie theatre room. Still without saying a word or, for that matter, showing any outward sign of recognizing she was leading Sasha rather then some sort of automaton. They walked inside, her Aunt walking Sasha right over to where Courtney was.

Which was in a chair. Sitting in one, to be precise. One that hadn't been in the room the times Sasha had explored down here. Sasha recognized it, however. It used to be upstairs, in the study room Courtney used for doing homework and projects. Black leatherette with padded cushions, actually a very comfortable chair; Sasha had been co-opting it for her own use, taking it from Courtney and daring her to do something about it.

Courtney never looked up, just kept reading her book as Sasha was led over to her. Since she hadn't been verbally told to follow Sasha sank down to her knees as soon as they stopped. That's when she noticed the little case resting between Courtney's tiny booted feet, a small, zippered, brown leather Dopp kit bag.

Removing the leash her Aunt hunkered down alongside Sasha then unzipped the bag, removing several items from within.

A small can of black shoe polish. An applicator brush. A buffing brush. A polishing cloth. Setting each one out, one at a time, in front of Sasha.

Before she had time to goggle at them her Aunt matter-of-factly stated, "A slave will be polishing her Mistress' boots."

'Say what!?' Sasha thought.

She might not have spoken aloud but her expression spoke volumes. Samantha simply ignored her and continued. "Watch closely; this is how a slave is to do this." With that Samantha opened the tin then demonstrated how to apply the polish with the applicator, how to use the buffing brush and next the polishing cloth. When she was finished the toe of Courtney's left boot shined like a mirror. Throughout all of that, Courtney never looked up from her book. The latest Harry Potter, Sasha noted with envy, having been looking forwards for over a year to read that herself when it finally came out.

"Does a slave understand what she needs to do and how to do it?" her Aunt finally asked. Sasha nodded; it didn't look all that hard, no. Although she didn't see the point to it, the boots already looked pretty clean and shiny. And she really didn't want to do this, it looked boring and probably was, and was rather demeaning, too. Grumbling to herself, she picked up the applicator brush as her Aunt strolled out, closing the door behind her and leaving Sasha alone with Courtney. The sooner she got this over with, the better. Maybe after she finished they'd do something more fun with her, or at least more active.

It was bad enough they were making her polish the little twer . . . Courtney's boots. But she also had to do them while Courtney was still wearing them! Muttering to herself Sasha picked up some of the polish on the applicator bristles, then her little chin stubbornly jutted out when Courtney, without ever seeming to look up from her book, simply extended her left boot out to Sasha.

This was boring, stupid and silly. This sucked. Still mentally grumbling Sasha started applying polish to the boot, remaining kneeling in Tower while she did. And it was very difficult to remain kneeling when all she wanted to do was jump up, run around . . . do something! She understood they expected her to work hard and do a very good job. But she'd never polished anything before, let alone a pair of tall boots still on someone's feet! And, frankly, she didn't want to do this, she didn't like being told to do it, and was annoyed at having to do this.

She started moving slower and slower, increasingly apathetically. At first that wasn't deliberate, but as time passed, it became intentional. Sasha figured that Courtney would get bored waiting for Sasha to finish and would give up on this and move on to doing something else. It wasn't as if the boots needed polishing, after all.

After half an hour Sasha hadn't done more than smudge and smear the polish over both boots. And the entire time Courtney continued simply reading her book, sipping soda and nibbling on some pretzels. Sasha was still kneeling at Courtney's feet, moving as slow as molasses in an Antartica winter as her mind wandered and daydreamed, when the door silently opened behind her. She stiffened in surprise at hearing her Aunt enter then tensed even more as Courtney, still never looking up simply said, "Store the slave back, please. I've had enough of her and her lazy performance today."

Her Aunt had Sasha stand to be leashed and, without a word, returned Sasha to her cage. She didn't know whether to be relieved or aggrieved. It didn't seem as if she was going to be punished, but she also didn't want to be locked up again so soon after finally being let out. But she didn't dare kick up a fuss about being stored again, not even when her Aunt relocked the cuffs back together.

It was a very long, very boring afternoon. No one came back for her the entire time. She was left alone with just her thoughts. And again, with nothing else to do and considering she was laying there naked, collared, cuff bound and cage locked, she thought of little else but everything that had happened. And again, as had happened before, it wasn't very long at all before she was gently squirming and tingly, before she felt her silken inner thighs slick and wet.

In fact, the tingles were so pervasive, so insidious and constant, Sasha was wishing Courtney would just come in and start touching and playing. She was distantly surprised at that, since before this she'd - impotently - struggled to keep just that very thing from happening. But, while picturing that happening again was still embarrassing, Sasha was startled and astonished to realize that it was also exciting now to picture. And not just exciting, but something she needed very badly. Sasha had no way to ease and soothe the tingles that had been, all day today, nonstop thrumming through her. And she certainly couldn't stop those tingles, either, not as long as they kept her stored as they'd been doing.

Courtney did make an appearance. Twice. Once to feed Sasha. And, later that night, returning to take her to the bathroom before storing her for the night.

Dinner had been, once again, a bowl each of bland, cool oatmeal and tepid water. And, once again, she had to eat them lying on her tummy and lapping the gruel and sipping up the water. Sasha had been dismayed, upset, unhappy and embarrassed when Courtney simply placed the bowls at her head, understanding what Courtney expected her to do. Hadn't she obeyed this afternoon and eaten like a doggy for her? Hadn't she proved she could and would do this already?

She almost refused to do it again. Almost. But there wasn't any doubt in her mind what the result of her refusal would be: going hungry until morning.

And morning would be a lo-o-o-o-o-ng time coming if she did that.

Well, it wasn't as if Courtney poked fun at her for eating like a doggy, mocking and taunting when Sasha had no choice but to lap her food. That helped make this somewhat easier. Nevertheless, she hoped this wasn't going to be the norm from now on. She was already getting tired of oatmeal and water.

About an hour after eating Courtney took her to the bathroom, letting her use the toilet before putting her to bed for the night. She wasn't allowed to shower first but, considering Sasha had scarcely done a blessed thing since her morning exercise session, she really didn't need to wash up before bed.

Then it was back to her cage, stored for the night. Courtney didn't relock the cuffs together, for which Sasha was quite grateful. She didn't think she'd manage to sleep at all if Courtney had done that. Even with her arms and legs free she had a difficult time sleeping. She'd done little else that day but lay stored in her cage and doze on and off. Her sleep that night was fitful, plagued by very vivid dreams and, on more then one occasion she'd roused only to find her fingers where they weren't supposed to be.

By the time Courtney came for her the following morning Sasha had a much better idea of what 'stir-crazy' and 'cabin fever' meant. After her wake-up-bathroom-break (for which Sasha was devoutly grateful for; somehow being locked up seemed to make her bladder feel much smaller and much more insistent by the time morning rolled around) she was again taken to the exercise room for her morning workout session.

Sasha needed no encouragement today, throwing herself with abandon into her exercises, working off an incredible amount of stored up energy. The hour passed swiftly, and she was actually surprised at how quickly the time flew by. Surprised and dismayed, for she still felt wired and keyed up inside.

Then it was off to the showers. Sasha opened her locker, expecting to find things changed back again, and was taken aback at discovering that awful bar of soap and the burlap towel and washcloth still there. Spinning around she stared at Courtney and blurted, "But I put everything away yesterday!" Then slapped both hands over her mouth, grass-green eyes huge and round, realizing she'd spoken.

Courtney's expression had grown grim and forbidding when Sasha spoke. It eased a bit, although never softened, when she'd clapped her hands over her mouth. When Sasha dropped to her knees as if her legs had been chopped off Courtney gave a little pleased, approving nod and smile at that. "Yes. A slave did put her things away yesterday. As she is supposed - and required - to do. However, a slave shouldn't expect, if she is being punished for her negligence or disobedience, to have a punishment stopped just because she's done the correct thing once."

Well, Sasha didn't like that. Not a bit. But, for some reason, she really couldn't get angry about it. Angry about the end result - still having that awful, sucky stuff to wash up with - yes. Oh yes. But, angry about the reasoning for that? Much as she hated to admit it, the reasoning was just. Made sense. She didn't have to like it - and she didn't - but she could accept the justice of it.

Just as she could accept the justice of having that bit gag put on her after her shower. She'd spoken out loud and, no matter that she'd done so out of shock and stunned, dismayed astonishment, they'd warned her time and time again that speaking would result in, at the very least, her being gagged. At least it was the comfiest of all the gags they'd used on her so far, which was a mercy and a blessing. Which was a good thing, too, considering she remained gagged all that morning, in addition to having her cuffs once again locked together.

The only time the gag was removed all that time was for breakfast and lunch. Which, yet again, had been plain, room temperature oatmeal and tepid water. Unlike yesterday, however, and in addition to the gag being removed, her cuffs were unlocked, too. So she could actually use a spoon to eat, and drink the water by tipping the bowl back while she sipped, although they were locked back together again once the meals were finished.

It was removed a third time, when her Aunt came for her about an hour after lunch. Again, just like yesterday, she had to try crawling out while still cuff locked, and again her Aunt carefully dragged her out once Sasha had made a sincere attempt to do that on her own. And just like before, having that done to her sent a series of intense tingles ripple shiveringly through her.

It took every ounce of willpower she had to keep from groaning aloud and rolling her eyes in exasperation when she found herself, once more, kneeling in front of Courtney. It was like deja vu, for Courtney was seated in her chair again, tiny booted feet extended out, the shoe polishing kit between them. Aunt Samantha didn't bother with a second demonstration, she simply stated as before, "A slave will be polishing her Mistress' boots," before leaving.

Sasha was not amused. Rolling her eyes, deeply sighing over and over, she was a picture-perfect example of any child that felt put-upon, facing a boring task they hated doing. Just what did it take for them to understand that she didn't want to do this stupid, asinine chore, this pointless, boring, trivial, stupid, silly, task? She moved even slower then she had yesterday, all the while sighing as if she were being dreadfully overworked to death, and sounding very much like a six-year-old being told to clean their bedroom when they'd rather be outside playing.

'Surely Courtney will give up,' Sasha thought. 'She gave up yesterday, after all. She didn't even punish, let alone scold. If I just drag my feet long enough, she'll give up on this. And maybe then move onto something a bit more fun and exciting.'

No more then five minutes passed when Courtney, with a very deep, gusty sigh of her own, said, "Stop Twerp. And kneel in Tower."

'Yes!' Sasha elated crowed in her mind. 'It worked! Just like I knew it would!' She was positive that Courtney had given up on this silly, senseless task and would now move onto something else.

Well, Courtney was moving onto something else, as Sasha was about to discover.

The very first thing Courtney did when she stood up was march behind Sasha and lock the wrist cuffs together behind her back. The moment she felt her cuffs tugged into position for being locked her heart started thumping faster and her tummy started tingling and getting tighter. That only grew more intense as she felt the lock being slid through the rings and then heard the soft clink of the shackle being secured. And then Courtney had her lift up her butt a bit off her little heels and then locked her small ankles together.

Now Sasha was helpless. Again. Unable to move. Escape. Run. Prevent anything from happening to her. Not that she really needed to be locked up for that. After three days she was already beginning to accept, albeit reluctantly and unhappily, that she didn't have choices about things. Sasha might not like or want whatever was about to happen, but she no longer considered fighting or running. But now, with her wrists and ankles locked, they weren't even options. It wasn't a matter of her voluntarily choosing between staying or running, because she could only stay.

That was the oddest feeling, knowing you were gonna do something anyway, but then having things done to you making it so you didn't have any choice about it.

Sasha was wondering, since Courtney had finally given up on the foolishness with the boots, if being cuff locked was the prelude to being touched. She'd never admit it, not even to herself, but she hoped she would be played with, hoped she'd feel those incredibly nice, wonderful feelings again. Not in a million years would she ever ask for that, no. That would be way too embarrassing, and it felt much too naughty to do that. But . . . if she didn't have a choice about what was done to her, well . . . there wasn't any reason or need to feel naughty or guilty then, was there?

Small nipples were already puckered and taut, and they grew even more erect and tight as Courtney locked the cuffs. Sasha was very gently starting to squirm, incapable of remaining still, her very body leaping enthusiastically in expectation regardless of what Sasha's feelings might have been.

She kept her eyes lowered as she'd been tau . . . trained to do, so she could only hear and not see Courtney moving around behind her. She heard a drawer being opened and suddenly ice flooded through her veins, the image of that punishment strap abruptly appearing in her head. Was that what Courtney was now getting? Sasha clearly remembered Courtney having hidden the punishment strap in the locker area, obviously in expectation of Sasha being disobedient. Had she done the same thing now? Had she guessed that Sasha would just goof off with the boot polishing and so had tucked the punishment strap away here, just in case?

Sasha swallowed. Hard. What had the potential of being nice suddenly became rather scary and frightening. She started trembling and shivering, her skin paling a bit. So it was, oddly enough, with a great deal of relief when Courtney reached around her head, held a gag to her mouth and told her to 'open wide'.

Sasha immediately did just that, so relieved that it wasn't the punishment strap after all she didn't think twice about being gagged again. Huge, grass-green eyes darted downwards, focusing on the gag right in front of her lips, and another enormous wave of relief flooded through her at seeing it wasn't that dreaded penis one again. She didn't have much time to see it as, no sooner had she opened her mouth wide, then Courtney started pressing it in.

It felt kinda like the sponge ball in that it was roundish in shape. The texture was very different though, smoother then the grainy porous surface of the sponge. As more and more of the pear-shaped leather gag was slipped inside Sasha's little tongue was pressed down and her small mouth felt increasingly stuffed.

Courtney was very careful pressing this gag in her slave. Mom had talked about it when selecting it for her daughter to use, because this one had a very specific purpose in addition to functioning as a gag. But she'd only had the two and the other had a much longer, thicker phallic mouthpiece which Samantha knew would be too much for Twerp to accommodate or handle. For now. So that left using this one.

Sasha felt more and more of her mouth being stuffed and filled. As the pear wasn't as squishy as the sponge ball had been she felt her little jaws more inexorably gaped open. Finally the leather mouth strap the pear was attached to reached her small full lips. That felt . . . different. Because it was. Bonded to the inside was a ring of firm, compressible foam, and when Courtney snugly buckled the straps behind her head the foam squished all around her gaped lips making a firm seal, muffling even further any sound she might make.

Like the bit gag, this one also had head and chin straps, and these Courtney now threaded through their buckles and firmly tightened down. Sasha knew, without even trying, there would be no way of expelling that ball thing stuffing her mouth. And within moments knew as well that, just like the penis one had been, there would also be no easy way of swallowing the spit that was already starting to make an appearance.

Sasha was positive Courtney had given up with the boot polishing nonsense crap when she put the applicator brush, buffing brush and polishing cloth away back in the Dopp kit case before zippering it closed. She left the opened tin of polish out though, and Sasha wondered why.

She didn't have to wonder for long, as Courtney put the case on the side table before walking off again. She returned seconds later and Sasha's tummy abruptly plummeted, heading somewhere south of Antarctica. For in her tiny hands she carried things that looked suspiciously familiar yet weirdly different.

There were three of them, each made of polished cherry wood, oval in shape, about one-and-a-half by three inches and perhaps three-quarters of an inch thick. From that point on they differed. One had, in the very center, a round set of bristles, appearing just like the applicator brush. The second had an oval set of smoother bristles, looking very much like a miniature buffing brush. While the last had a rectangular section of polishing cloth to which a foam-backed spongy pad had been affixed.

Sasha's throat pulsed as she gulped, suddenly getting a very dreadful suspicion.

Courtney reached around to the front of the gag, unsnapping the leather flaps there, then carefully seated the applicator brush in place before resnapping the flaps over and securing it in place. Mom had showed her how to do that earlier that morning, and it really wasn't hard at all.

What Courtney didn't know was that the gag hadn't been specifically designed to hold those brushes and polishing cloth. It was actually meant to hold the flanged bases of dildos, which the bases of the three items Courtney had were fabricated to resemble.

Checking that the brush was held secure Courtney resumed sitting, perching on her chair before gazing down at her slave who, at the moment, was staring back up with increasing nervous, anxious and apprehensive eyes. "A slave will remain gagged until her Mistress' boots shine like mirrors," she stated, and Sasha jerked at that, her eyes rounding to saucers and moaning in dismay. She tried staring down at the brush she knew was fastened to the front of her gag but couldn't see it, then stared back up at Courtney with huge imploring eyes. There was no way she could polish those boots, not like this! It wasn't even a matter of her wanting or liking having anything to do that as much as Sasha seeing no practical, physical way of accomplishing that task.

Courtney simply ignored her slave, just slipped on a set of headphones, put a CD in her Walkman then leaned back and returned to reading her book. Sasha deeply shivered, realizing how badly she'd - once again - misjudged things. She'd thought she could manipulate Courtney into doing things Sasha's way, and was now paying the penalty for that. Sasha didn't doubt at all she'd been deadly serious when she'd said Sasha would remain gagged until the boots were highly polished. But Sasha couldn't see any way at all of doing that! The thought of complaining or fussing never entered her mind, all she desperately thought about was how to manage doing what she'd been ordered to do. For that would be the only way that gag in her mouth was going to be removed, and she knew it.

And then her entire body hotly, brightly flushed as she realized just what she'd have to do, and how she'd look doing it, while at the same time a tingle so sharp and intense she almost doubled over jolted and raced through her. Small nipples abruptly tightened to hard little peaks that throbbed, and Sasha prayed the Courtney's nose remained buried in her book. For if she looked at Sasha right now, the way she was kneeling and cuffed there'd be no way of hiding or concealing those suddenly hard, tight nipples from her sight.

Just thinking about what she'd have to do had her furiously blushing. But, oddly enough, she didn't feel anywhere near as embarrassed or humiliated as she'd felt when she'd had to lap her food like a doggy. Maybe that was because she was a lot more nervous and anxious at the moment then she'd been when in the cage and having to eat like that. Or maybe it was because she'd never imagined or envisioned having to do what was going to be necessary and so had no preconceived notions or feelings about that. Whatever the reasons, all Sasha knew is that she didn't feel the same as she'd had with having to lap up her food.

Very slowly, very gingerly Sasha inched her way backwards, small knees slipping over the carpet. Then came the hard part: somehow getting down to her tummy. She finally managed that by lowering her head down until it touched the floor, then carefully rolled onto her side. She landed with a soft thud, a very muffled squeal as she did, more startled then hurt. Then she struggled onto her tummy and wormed her way up to the open tin of polish.

From that moment onwards, for the rest of her life the scent of shoe polish had a powerful, erotic, arousing effect on Sasha.

She couldn't really clearly see the can once her head was over it, she had to find it by feel, tapping the brush fixed at the front of her face up and down until she felt it touch the polish below. The rich scent filled her little nose, surrounded her head. She couldn't avoid smelling it; she could only breathe through her nose and the polish was only inches from her face. Sasha couldn't see how much, or how little, she'd managed getting on the applicator, she could only hope she'd picked up enough. Then she wriggled, humped, squirmed and writhed over closer to Courtney.

Closer to Courtney's boot. Which Courtney helpfully extended once Sasha had gotten reasonably close.

Sasha had to move her face back and forth along the boot to get the brush to spread the polish over the leather. Or try to spread it, for that wasn't at all easy to do. It took about three minutes just to pick up polish from the tin and then try applying it to the boot. Sasha's heart started pounding faster and faster, her breathing whuffled through tiny flaring nostrils as she started panting harder. And not just from her exertions, either. Which were exhausting enough, extremely so, as Sasha was forced to wriggle, squirm and contort into aching, uncomfortable positions, her skin soon flushed and glistening with sweat.

But contributing to all of that, actually no small part of all that, were the rapidly increasing tingles inside her. Sasha could neither ignore nor prevent them. There she was, completely naked and exposed, collared and cuffed, wrists and ankles locked together, tightly gagged into silence with that very same gag serving a purpose Sasha could never have anticipated. Squirming and wriggling, her sweaty naked body contorting into extremely embarrassing, humiliating positions as Sasha struggled to spread shoe polish all over Courtney's boot. All of that - the physical reality coupled with the mental imagery - soon had Sasha uncontrollably writhing for reasons other then daubing on polish.

Throughout all this Courtney never said a word, simply ignored her slave's struggles, her muffled grunts and whines, just continued reading her book, sipping her soda and nibbling on some pretzels.

For the very first time Sasha felt utterly and completely a slave. The posture and position training, while being pointed and obvious, had been tame in a way. Even being cuffed and caged hadn't made her feel a slave as much as it had a captive. But this . . . this difficult, uncomfortable squirming, struggling straining, the writhing about trying and polish those boots, hit her on a level more intense then anything else had. It didn't even matter that the impetus for her doing this was purely selfish, done solely so that she'd have the gag removed. What mattered was how it felt to her, how it made her feel.

Like a helpless little slave.

Squirming and wriggling back to the tin, bobbing her head up and down, trying to gather up more polish. Then wiggling and twisting back over to the boots, contorting herself to spread and smooth the polish over them. Hard tiny throbbing peaks grazing over the carpet. Slippery, slick, achy, tingly pussy being rhythmically rubbed between slender, bare, pressed together thighs.

A little, naked, collared slave, squirming and sweaty, writhing around, polishing her Mistress' boots as commanded to do.

Courtney knew there was no way Twerp could successfully polish her boots this way. If Mom hadn't made that clear to her when she'd explained this earlier that morning, just surreptitiously watching her slave struggle so hard showed her that. Then again, having shiny, polished boots wasn't the object of this little lesson, either.

After an hour, one of the longest, most intense hours Sasha had ever endured, Courtney finally put her book down, removed her headphones then stood up. Walking over to her slave she took Twerp's cuffed ankles and brought them up behind her back, eyes sparkling at Twerp's muffled squeal as she did that. Reaching into her pocket, she removed a short, six-inch length of chain, a locking clip at each end, then secured Twerp's ankles up over her back, fastening them to her cuffed wrists. Mom had said this was called a hog-tie.

Twerp's muffled whimpers increased as even more of her freedom of motion was taken from her; at that, and at the realization that Courtney was now focusing her attention on her. She was hot, sweaty, tired and exhausted . . . and tingling so bad inside she ached. There wouldn't be any way of hiding how her body had been - and still was - reacting to all of this if Courtney rolled her sideways. Nor was there any way to prevent or avoid that happening if Courtney chose to do that.

Which she found out seconds later, as Courtney effortlessly rolled her right onto her side. Facing her. So that Sasha was helplessly exposed in all her 'glory'. It didn't matter that Sasha was one-and-three-quarters heavier then her little cousin, more muscled and stronger. It didn't matter that, ordinarily, Sasha could easily outwrestle and overpower Courtney. All her muscles and strength meant naught with her being secured as she was; Courtney effortlessly moved Sasha as she pleased, and there wasn't a blessed thing Sasha could do about it.

Courtney still didn't say anything, although her huge dusky eyes sparkled even brighter. Sasha was a slobbering, sweaty, soaked mess, her face and chest a vivid crimson as Courtney gazed down at her. Her flushed skin twitched and shivered as Courtney's tiny fingers very lightly started stroking her tummy and sides.

And breasts. Oh yes, most certainly there. Courtney had been rather shy and self-conscious that first day when she'd sponged down her slave's breasts. She'd never touched a girl that way before, and she'd felt extremely timid about doing that. But she most certainly wasn't bashful now and, in fact, was incredibly fascinated with watching her slave helplessly squirm, incredibly intoxicated with that power over her. By now, she'd figured out few things would make her slave wildly, insanely squirm as having her breasts played with. Tiny, warm, soft palms were placed directly over Sasha's small, budding nascent breasts, making her softly inhale. Then deep, intense muffled moans erupted as Courtney started kneading, cupping, fondling Sasha's breasts.

They felt so . . . different. Unlike anything she'd felt before. Really firm, almost like muscle, except they weren't muscle. Courtney stared, enchanted and entranced, as her tiny fingers squeezed and pressed those small, firm swells, watching them move under the gentle force of her small hands. Listening to Twerp's muffled grunts, gasps, pants and moans. Cries which grew even sharper, more fervent, when she started stroking, tweaking, tugging and stretching tiny hard nipples.

Five minutes later Courtney sat back down, picked up her book and started reading again, leaving her slave still on her side, still hog-tied and gagged. And now uncontrollably writhing and squirming, mewling and moaning.

And very, very wet.

She was still squirming when Samantha entered, bringing in another glass of soda for Courtney. Samantha wasn't at all surprised to see Twerp gagged as she was. Nor, for that matter, surprised to see her hog-tied, either. But she was incredibly stunned seeing her writhing in intense, blazing arousal and need. Her steps literally faltered a moment, powerfully affected by the vision before her on the floor, an intensely erotic, sensual, arousing image so infinitely powerful it hit her like a sledgehammer blow, taking her breath away.

Before her lay a beautiful little girl, completely naked, collared, hog-tied and gagged, writhing in passion and arousal so deep it was palpable. Her skin flushed and sweaty, little nostrils flaring with panted moans, sleek, toned muscles visibly twitching as wave after wave of tingles rippled through her. Little nipples so hard, so erect, they looked like tiny points, and pussy so wet it glistened and gleamed. Samantha swallowed hard, finding it impossible to tear her eyes away from that sight.

Courtney looked at her Mom very curiously. She hadn't noticed it before, not really, but it appeared as if she, too, wanted to touch and play with Twerp. Up until now, the only time she'd really touched Twerp was during the anatomy lessons, and even then all she'd done was lightly caress Twerp's side and hip. Courtney was the one who had done all the other touchings, albeit mostly at her Mom's direction and coaching. Did Mom want to play with her slave, too, she wondered?

Samantha finally managed to look away, although it was one of the hardest things she'd ever done before. She sat the glass of soda down on the end table next to the empty glass sitting there, then smiled down at her daughter.

What happened next was so silly it was hilarious. Courtney tipped her head a bit to the side, gazing up at her Mom as she arched a feathery, very pale gold brow upwards, looking more twenty-nine then nine, clearly 'asking' Do you want to play with Twerp? Samantha, for her part, looked suddenly shy, dipping her head and giving a tiny little nod, looking more as if she were nine and asked, out of the blue, if she wanted her fondest dream fulfilled. All she needed to do to complete that picture would have been to dig a toe into the carpet and wriggle a bit. And her expression clearly 'said' Uh-huh! I really do. Can I? Really?

Tiny little hands covered her mouth as Courtney tried smothering her giggles. Huge gray eyes sparkled over her fingers, then she lowered her hands, widely grinning and nodding at her Mom.

Sasha couldn't see the exchange of their expressions, not really, not lying as she was. But she had no trouble at all noticing Samantha as she started slowly walking around her, squirming, naked body. She felt very much like a very little mouse being stalked by a huge, ravenous tabby cat. The fact that Samantha's eyes did glitter with an avid hunger only made her feel that way even worse.

Samantha slowly walked around the trembling little slave several times, savoring that vision, and at the wide-eyed, nervous apprehensive look in her eyes. Twerp couldn't easily follow her the entire time as Samantha walked around her, but that didn't stop her from trying!

She finally knelt at Twerp's side, gently stroking her damp, sweaty hair for a moment before lowering her hands - which trembled - then lightly brushed them over Twerp's helplessly bared and exposed skin.

Courtney's touches had most certainly been enthusiastic and eager, no doubt about that. But Samantha's were . . . experienced. She didn't rush things, not at all, even though her own mouth felt abruptly dry and her insides thrumming with excitement and arousal. Samantha knew that arousal could be controlled, and could reasonably easily check and rein in her own. She'd often had to do that in the past, placing control over desire when training or even disciplining and punishing other slaves.

It was just a lot more . . . difficult . . . to do . . . this time . . . with Twerp.

Courtney was learning how to kindle and ignite, fan and inflame, her slave's arousal. And she was a quick learner, too, and had been doing an excellent job of that. But Samantha was quite experienced. Very adept at coaxing and cajoling, teasing and drawing out, everything from a slave. For the first few minutes she did nothing but probe, striving to discover every spot, every area, that Twerp responded to. And then she explored every variation of them: light, almost tickling brushes of just fingertips; firmer caresses of fingers; firm sweeps of palms; kneading and rolling; light glides of just the very tips of her elegant nails; firmer grazes that left little pink trails behind. Discovering which worked best in what area, maximizing how Twerp responded.

Courtney leaned forwards in her chair, sparkling eyes avidly watching - cataloguing and memorizing - everything her Mom did, and how it affected Twerp. And affect her it certainly did! After just ten minutes, Twerp was a shuddering, quivering, squirming wreck, tiny nostrils fluttering as harsh, panted breaths hissed through them. Small hands and feet twisted and tugged in their locked cuffs, her slender toned muscles jerked and tensed, virtually vibrating. Her skin was a mottled red and white, heavily sweaty, and her muffled moans, whimpers and mewls were almost nonstop.

Finally Courtney knelt down alongside her slave, too, opposite where her Mom knelt. She gazed down in wide-eyed, rapturous wonder at Twerp. "Oh Mom!" she whispered in awe, "Isn't she so pretty!"

Samantha took several deep, shuddery breaths then, willing herself back into control. And that was, by far, one of the hardest things she'd ever done! "Yes baby, she is," she whispered back, in absolute, utter agreement. "Oh yes, she certainly is!"

Twerp whined then, feeling the wondrous touches pause, wriggling her body in an impotent, futile effort to seek out and find more. Powerful, intense tingles rippled and surged back and forth within her, and once again she felt as if she was standing on the edge of a precipice, filled to bursting inside with . . . something. Every part of her was thrumming, even her skin was supersensitive. And the realization that she was naked, completely and totally helplessly bound and gagged, feeling the cuffs around her wrists and ankles, the strain of her body pulled into the position she was in, the ache of her small jaws from the gag . . . all of that just amplified the sensations and tingles and heat inside her.

"I love watching her squirm," Courtney said in a soft murmur, gazing down, entranced and enchanted at Twerp's helpless bucks and wriggles. "I love making her squirm even better."

Samantha indulgently smiled, softly chuckled, fully aware of that by now. "I kind of figured that out," she said, deep blue eyes twinkling, at which Courtney sheepishly grinned and softly blushed.

Their words dimly filtered through to Sasha, who still was writhing and panting, aching and tingling so intensely she almost sobbed with the sensation. But their next few statements seemed to cut right through that enveloping thick fog, shocking her.

"Your slave can, you know, be trained to squirm without having to be touched at all," Samantha told Courtney.

"Wow! Really!?" she blurted out in awed delight.

Nodding, Samantha confirmed that. "Yes. Really. She can be trained so that simply seeing something, like rope, or even just a certain look from you, can trigger her to start uncontrollably squirming."

"Kewl!" Courtney ecstatically chirped, bouncing on her little knees.

"Not only that, but you could train her to do so with just a word," Samantha added.

"Awesome!" Courtney said, wide-eyed. "You mean, I could just look at Twerp and, go, like," she asked, suddenly looking down right into Twerp's now wide and frightened eyes, "squirm?" she added.

As Samantha had an inkling her daughter might wish to try that very thing out, she'd very gently shifted her hand, which had been resting on Twerp's quivering, trembling slender thigh, upwards and more forwards, cunningly prepositioning her fingers for this very moment. The very instant that Courtney said 'squirm' Samantha lightly tapped the tip of her tapered nail directly atop Twerp's swollen, slick pearl.

The effect was immediate: Twerp immediately bucked, a sharp muffled moan burst from her. Courtney's huge eyes rounded in amazement. "Wow!" she whispered, awed and stunned.

Poor Sasha was no less stunned then Courtney had been. The instant Courtney had said 'squirm' an intense, electrifying jolt had rocketed through her, making her uncontrollably arch up and cry out. This . . . this . . . this couldn't be happening to her, she mentally wailed, deeply shocked. They . . . they wouldn't . . . couldn't . . . really train her like that, could they? Would they?

Sasha tensed up, desperately struggled to remain still and unresponsive, seeing Courtney looking as if she wanted to try that again. But it didn't matter. The moment Courtney huskily, breathily crooned, "Squirm," Sasha felt another intense, sharp jolt race through her, and she once again bucked, squealed and squirmed.

She never realized that her Aunt had, both times, craftily tapped her swollen, sensitive clit with the tip of her nail. Never understood that that was what had truly triggered those consuming, fiery waves of intense tingles. All she knew, all she was aware of was that, in both instances, simply having Courtney command her to squirm made her to just that: squirm.

Courtney was deliriously joyous about this. At first. Then her delighted expression grew thoughtfully frowny. Finally she asked, "Will Twerp squirm like that from now on when anyone tells her to squirm?"

Samantha shook her head. "No sweetheart. Only you. You're her Mistress, after all. Watch." At that Samantha gazed down at Twerp, waiting until the now-pale child locked her enormous, aghast eyes to hers, waiting until she felt her tense up, trying to prevent the inevitable. "Squirm," Samantha told Twerp, in a dull, neutral, almost bored tone.

The moment she spoke the word Twerp tensed even more. But that was all she did, and her grass green eyes looked abruptly relieved yet still very apprehensive.

Of course, Samantha hadn't tapped her clit that time, so it wasn't surprising that Twerp hadn't reacted. But neither the trembling little slave nor Courtney knew that.

Nor did either know what Samantha did: it wouldn't take very many 'lessons', not as primed and responsive as Twerp was, until she really did respond to just Courtney telling her to squirm. That would require, after all, only very minor conditioning, and very easily accomplished.

Assuming Courtney wanted that, of course.

Sasha's heart was painfully pounding in her chest. It was one thing to get excited about being tied up and stuff like that, and very much another to have that happen to her simply because Courtney told her to squirm! That was more then simply embarrassing and humiliating. That was . . . frightening. Horrifying. Her blood ran cold as liquid helium just thinking about that!

And if Courtney chose to have her trained that way, there wouldn't be anything Sasha could do about it, either!

Courtney was silent for a long time, still that frowny thoughtful expression on her face. Her small, soft, warm hand lightly caressed her slave's trembling lithe leg as she considered things. On one hand, she was rather enchanted at the idea of being able to just tell Twerp to squirm and seeing her do just that. It was a very power, seductive image. But she could also see how scared Twerp was about that, too. And, although Courtney was learning to ignore Twerp's fears when it came to some things that happened, or were going to happen, she couldn't easily ignore it this time.

Nor, to her surprise, did she find that she wanted to ignore it. As she had a pretty good idea why it was so frightening and appalling to her.

Being unable to stop moving or squirming when she was touched was one thing. After all, the touched felt good and, as Mom had explained, girls' bodies were sort of designed to respond particular ways to specific kinds of touches and stuff. Sort of like being unable to stop giggling or jerking when you got tickled. You couldn't help that, you just did!

But to be trained to squirm at just a word, well . . . that sure wasn't normal. No way! And it kinda was like changing the squirms from something normal and proper to making Twerp react more like a thing, like a computer program or game. And that didn't seem . . . right . . . to Courtney. In fact, it felt wrong to her. It was one thing to make Twerp squirm because she couldn't resist the wonderful feelings Courtney might force her to feel. Or because Courtney verbally commanded her slave to squirm and she voluntarily submitted to that order. But it was quite another for her to squirm simply because she didn't have any choice at all about doing it because Courtney just said a word.

"I like seeing Twerp squirm," she finally said, her words coming quite slow and thoughtful. "I really do. Just not . . . that way." She gave a little shrug of one small shoulder. "I know Twerp's my slave. Which also makes her my possession. But she isn't a thing, she's still a person, and training her like that, well," she gave another little shrug, "just doesn't feel right to me."

Twerp gave a convulsive sob of relief. If she could have moved she would have hugged Courtney for that.

"I like making her squirm because I touch her and she just can't stay still," she explained, "and also because I tell her I want to see her squirm and she does that to please me. That feels right and OK. The other doesn't, though," she finished.

Samantha suffered a momentary pang of shock. For two reasons: one is that she had found the image of Twerp being trained, inexorably compelled to irresistibly squirm when told extremely erotic and exciting, and the other at Courtney's decision.

A very mature, thought out and reasoned decision at that. Samantha was, once again, very impressed and proud of her daughter.

"Very well," she accepted. "It is, after all, your choice in how your slave is trained. And it's not as if we don't have a lot still you can choose to have her trained in and for."

Courtney nodded. Mom certainly had been giving her quite the education the last three days, and she simply couldn't wait to get started on some of them! However, until Twerp was, at the very least, resigned if not accepting her fate, then a lot of that needed to wait.

Samantha gave a final gentle caress to Twerp's tummy before rising, then warmly smiled at her daughter before leaving the room. From what she'd seen it would still be another hour or two before Courtney was finished with this particular lesson with her slave, and that gave her time to sit down and consider things herself.

Once back in the kitchen she poured another cup of coffee before sitting down at the table. Even now Samantha could feel thrumming inside the remnants of her earlier arousal and excitement with the little slave. Thank goodness Courtney had called a halt to things because, if she hadn't, Samantha would have continued with the conditioning. And would have been turned on the entire time, too.

Samantha could no longer deny it: Twerp turned her on as few - if any - other slaves she'd played with had ever done before. She hadn't expected that, hadn't planned on that ever happening. Good Lord, the girl was her niece, after all! Not to mention being a child!

But the instant she'd walked into the room and had seen Twerp writhing in deep, absolute arousal, that image had spiked the final nail in the coffin of her resistance. The walls of her imperviousness came tumbling down, their adamantine bricks shattered into sand and dust. Although she still battled with the ethics of the situation, weighing right versus wrong, now she had to contend with her own growing desires, and that mightily was tipping the balance. She'd known of the hazards and dangers, knew how easily someone could justify actions they took but had thought she'd been stronger then that.

Well, it seemed she wasn't.

Samantha took another sip, cradling the mug between both hands, savoring the warmth. She still hadn't - yet - crossed that final, irrevocable line. But she was standing right there, poised on the edge, and she knew it. In fact, if she was brutally honest, she'd already put her toes over the edge. Just because she hadn't done anything overtly sexual, like using toys, hadn't meant they'd crossed over the boundary of innocent, sensual fun and over into intimate sexuality.

And while it was patently obvious that Twerp was deeply unhappy about quite a few things, it was even odds that, were Samantha to ask her when she was calmer - say, right after waking up in the morning - if she wanted things to stop that Twerp would say no. Of course, it went without saying that were Samantha to ask that very same question while Twerp was writhing and squirming as she had been earlier, it was virtually a given that she'd say no.

That was also something she'd have to explain to Courtney: that when someone was powerfully aroused and excited inhibitions went out the window. They'd eagerly agree to doing things that, in saner, more sober moments, they'd never consider doing at all. And while that could be extremely useful when helping someone expand their limits, one had to be extraordinarily cautious in doing so, as one could easily, by accident, exceed someone's limits.

And however tempting some ideas might be that cropped up when she considered that, picturing doing certain things to and with Twerp when she was deep in the powerful throes of arousal, Samantha understood she'd have to be very careful. All the more so when she admitted her own judgment might not be too stable.

Simply imagining teasing Twerp over and over until she literally sobbed, begged and pleaded to be plugged fore and aft was enough to have Samantha's blood start pounding. She quickly took another sip of coffee, sternly forcing herself to calm down. Deep blue eyes glittered as she pensively thought, debating how things should progress from this point onwards.

Pushing the door closed with her ample bottom Marcie sat the overnight bag on the floor, a soft deep sigh as she did. This weekend hadn't turned out as she'd hoped and, in fact, she'd called it short. It wasn't anyone's fault. Sometimes, no matter how well matched people seemed online, the chemistry just didn't 'click', which had been the case this time. Still, it had been extremely disappointing, Marcie had hoped for an enjoyable relaxing time.

Locking the door and securing the safety chain Marcie then picked the bag back up before heading to her bedroom. She wasn't terribly surprised at not being ''greeted'' as soon as she came in; undoubtedly her babies were still showing their displeasure at her absence. They always were when she was gone for more then a day, but it wouldn't be too long before they paid a visit.

Sure enough, Marcie had no sooner placed the bag in her bedroom closet then Aphrodite walked in, winding her way once around Marcie's ankles before flirting her tail and padding off. Athena and Apollo would take longer to forgive her, she knew; Aphrodite was the sweetie of the three.

Marcie checked their food and water dishes, replenishing both before taking a quick shower. She hadn't planned on being back quite so early, but since she was perhaps she'd get caught up on some chores. She decided to check her emails first before wading into that fray, grumbling at seeing over two hundred and fifty new messages, virtually all of them adverts, junk or spam.

She'd accidentally posted several times to some of her favorite UseNet groups using an addy that hadn't had an anti-spam header and was now paying the price. Mouthing dark oaths she started mass deleting messages after messages, wishing sinister, evil curses on spammers.

"Crap!" she muttered, deleting a mail whose addy seemed familiar. Checking out the trash folder she blinked, silently cursing again as she recovered the deleted item, for she'd almost missed it: an email from Samantha, a very dear friend - and occasional Mistress - of hers. As the subject clearly stated "Rush Order; Very Important" she wasn't at all surprised to find out, upon opening the mail, that's exactly what it was.

A rather substantial order, too, Marcie noticed, softly whistling at the items being ordered. Rubbing her hands together in satisfaction, she kept reading; it was a joy making items, especially for dear close friends. Although she was a touch wistful; she'd rather have spent this weekend with Samantha rather then how it had actually turned out. However, it was a tad difficult when one lived four hours apart.

Marcie frowned, seeing that Samantha wanted all of this by the upcoming weekend. This was quite a bit of work involved and, unfortunately, she'd blown two days by being away most of this weekend. Even if she overnight express mailed them, she'd have to have them all completed by Thursday afternoon, which didn't seem all that likely unless she happened to have some of the items in stock.

Opening up a small drawer to the right of her desk Marcie removed order blanks, then started recording the measurements onto them. They seemed . . . odd. And it wasn't until she'd logged off and started checking out the few things she had in stock that she realized why: the measurements were very small; some almost ridiculously so, in fact.

She double-checked what she'd written down, wondering if she'd somehow made an error. If she had, she must have made errors jotting down every single one, for it wasn't as if she'd only misrecorded measurements for, say, the wrist cuffs. They all were small and diminutive.

The ankle and wrists cuffs weren't overly so, at least not blatantly obvious. She'd only have to trim some existing ones and add a few holes closer to the buckle before having a set of each. But the others, like the glove binder and body harness looked very small, much smaller then any of her existing patterns.

Marcie reached down, petting Apollo and Athena who, as she'd expected, finally deigned to make an appearance. Well, she still had a good bit of the afternoon and all of this evening free, and she couldn't think of a better use of her time then starting on her work.

It sure as hell beat housework any day of the week!

Turning the page of her book Courtney kept reading, pretty much ignoring her slave, who remained hog-tied and gagged just in front of her. Although now and then sparkling gray eyes peeped over the top of the book as she peeked down and watched. The breathy, panty moans and mewls had finally ceased. So had the squirms, although Twerp continued restlessly shifting about. Well, shifting about as much as she was able to do, anyway. Which sure wasn't much at all.

It was obvious she was growing increasingly uncomfortable. But, considering her nipples remained quite puckered and erect Courtney was reasonable sure her slave wasn't feeling only distressed. It had been very fun and exciting making her squirm, and seeing Mom make her squirm, too! And Courtney rather wanted to make her slave squirm again. And again and again and again . . .

It was difficult to rein in her impatience, but she kept reminding herself she had all this summer to play with her slave. It wasn't as if she was going to be taken away from her or anything, after all. Besides, after her own 'lesson' two days ago, Courtney had started understanding why breaks now and then might be important for her slave. Too much too fast could be harmful, and Courtney didn't want to take any chances of harming Twerp.

She'd understood that from the very beginning, at least when it came to physical harm. She just hadn't really understood that Twerp could also be harmed mentally and emotionally. At least, not until Mom had shown Courtney, quite graphically, how something like that could happen. It was kinda like expecting a water ride at the park only finding yourself riding a huge giganormous tidal wave instead. Or expecting to ride a merry go round and finding yourself atop a wild galloping stallion.

After about fifteen minutes Courtney put her book up then hopped up from her chair. Twerp tensed, expecting Courtney to come over to her, but all she did was examine her boots very closely before making a chiding 'tsk' sound. "A slave missed quite a few spots," she pointed out, and Twerp quailed. She'd tried for over an hour to get polish everywhere. But, with the cuffs locked as they were and having to daub it on with the gag brush, there hadn't been any way she really could evenly apply the polish to the boots.

Twerp tensed again as Courtney crouched down at her head, but she simply unsnapped the front of the gag and removed the applicator brush. Then she took the open tin of polish and carefully finished rubbing the polish evenly over all the surfaces before placing the brush on the table and picking up the buffing one.

Tiny fingers carefully placed it into position before securing the snaps, then Twerp let out a muffled squeak as Courtney simply rolled her onto her tummy, again moving effortlessly moving her. She groaned as the connecting chain was unlocked and removed, feeling her lithe, slender legs finally able to stretch back out. Being hog-tied like that had been quite confining and restrictive!

Courtney settled back down in her chair and picked her book back up. "A slave is to finish polishing her Mistress' boots," was all she said before burying her nose back into the pages.

Twerp's whine was barely audible, muffled by the large, firm leather pear in her mouth. A gag that wasn't going to be removed until she, somehow, managed to make those boots shine like mirrors. Wriggling on her tummy, her entire body aching from her exertions, she humped and bumped her way back over to the boots again.

Once there she carefully positioned her face over one boot, locating it by touch as the buffing brush finally contacted, then began rocking her head back and forth, gliding the brush over the boot.

She tried. She really really tried. But it was impossible. Her neck, small shoulders and back felt like they were on fire, muscles knotted and strained, burning with fatigue. She managed, somehow, to get the toe and instep of one boot to actually shine a bit but that was all she could do before hitting the end of her resources. Finally she just lay there on her tummy, softly crying, tears tracking down her cheeks. She was never, ever gonna get that gag taken out, not at this rate. And she'd really tried to obey, too!

Courtney gave her slave another hour at this attempt, although it was glaringly apparent after just the first ten minutes it was a hopeless cause. And not, she was pleased to see, because Twerp hadn't been trying. Finally she set her book back down then gazed at her slave laying on her tummy before her.

"Not too bad a job on the toe," Courtney said, watching as Twerp gave out a muffled sob, well aware that there was still far more then a toe to complete. "Don't move," she told Twerp after about half a minute, quite pleased as she abruptly froze in place, not moving at all other then the motion of her breathing. Slipping from her chair Courtney crouched by Twerp then unlocked the cuffs from each other before sitting back down.

The Dopp kit landed with a soft thud right in front of her face, then Twerp heard Courtney say, "A slave has fifteen minutes to finish polishing her Mistress' boots."

Sasha just stared at the kit for several seconds, confused and nonplused, then the words finally percolated through her stunned head. She exploded into action, grabbing the kit, small fingers tugging the zipper open in such frantic haste she almost ripped the seams apart. Moments later she had the normal-sized buffing brush in hand and was rapidly gliding it back and forth over the boots, softly whimpering in her haste.

Courtney got goosebumps watching Twerp in action, a light tingle in her tummy as her slave madly started polishing. She didn't even try reading her book, just sat up and avidly observed Twerp at her task.

Sasha wished she'd paid better attention to her Aunt when she'd demonstrated how to polish. She hadn't thought that had been important at all then, but now? Now she realized that if she didn't do this job as well as she could have done, she was going to pay a potentially heft consequence. For she didn't doubt, not for a moment, that Courtney had been deadly serious when she'd told her she'd remain gagged until both boots shined like mirrors.

She buffed and buffed until the leather looked glossy, then tugged the polishing cloth free from the kit bag and furiously whipped it back and forth over the leather. Well within the fifteen minutes she finally finished, sweat beading on her skin and lightly trickling in itchy, tickly rivulets.

"Nadu," Courtney commanded, and Sasha quickly knelt as trained, dropping the cloth and bringing her small wrists behind her back, crossing them. Courtney inspected the boots very closely before nodding to herself. "Too bad a slave couldn't have done such a good job to start with," she finally announced, staring rather firmly at her slave.

Sasha felt her face and chest furiously blaze. She wanted to snipe back, wanted to dispute that, just as she had been for most of this year. But . . . she couldn't. Because Courtney was right. Sasha had known what she was supposed to have done, and intentionally chose not to do it. She'd no one but herself to blame, no matter how badly she wished and needed to do otherwise.

Her jaws were starting to badly ache, and her face, chin and chest were a sticky, gummy, slobbery mess from the gag. She badly wanted it out and, since she'd polished the boots as told, she'd expected the gag to be removed now. Courtney, however, simply had her kneel next to her chair before she went back to reading, completely ignoring her imploring eyes and her rapid tipping of her head as she tried drawing attention to the gag still in her mouth.

Sasha didn't understand why Courtney left the gag in. Hadn't she done as she'd been told, after all? An infinitesimal flicker of defiance started to kindle, but then reality extinguished it. Courtney could have left the cuffs locked together, after all. And, had she done that, there would have been no way at all Sasha could have finished polishing. Instead, she'd been lenient and had unlocked them so Sasha could actually have a real chance of completing the task. The gag might still be in, true, but it was far better to have completed the task then to still have been facing the impossible.

Courtney kept a watch on Twerp out of the corner of her eye. Her slave tried remaining in proper position, but it was obvious she was too tired, sore, aching and exhausted to continue doing so for long. "Lay on your tummy in front of me," she finally told her, "facing sideways."

Sasha blinked, startled from her reverie. Well, more precisely, her increasingly futile attempt to ignore the aches and pains of over stressed muscles. She quickly moved to the front of the chair, stretching out on her tummy as told to do. Ohgawd, it felt soooo nice just to be able to fully stretch out again!

Then she tensed, feeling Courtney lightly rest her boots atop her butt. A fierce, hot blush flowed down in a crimson tide at that. She . . . she was being used as a footstool!

Courtney hadn't intended that but, once she saw how Twerp was lying, right in front of her, she just couldn't help but do that. Twerp's rump was the perfect height, as Courtney's little legs weren't long enough to reach the floor even in this chair. She didn't make a big production of it, simply rested them atop her butt then went back to reading again.

Sasha felt extremely odd as she lay there. It was, in its way, quite humiliating being used as a footstool. But she couldn't deny how wonderful it felt being able to stretch out and actually relax, not in light of the afternoon she'd had today! It seemed a small, trivial price to pay for that luxury, all the more so since Courtney wasn't making a big deal about it. In fact, she wasn't acting as if anything was out of the ordinary, so it was hard to actually feel ashamed.

About another hour passed then Samantha returned, carrying a plate and another glass, this one of iced tea. Courtney looked up and smiled, then went "Yum!" at the aroma. Pizza!

Sasha scented that, too, and her tummy audibly rumbled. Grilled mozzarella cheese might be her favorite sandwich, but pizza was her all-time favorite food! But she had the sinking feeling that she wouldn't be getting any pizza tonight.

Her Aunt didn't seem to act as if seeing Sasha used as a footstool was anything out of the ordinary. In fact, she didn't seem to notice that at all, simply handed the plate to Courtney before setting the iced tea on the table and picking up the two empty glasses there before leaving. Courtney, for her part, didn't say a word other then happily saying, "Thanks Mom!" when handed the plate.

A tear trickled down Sasha's cheek as Courtney wolfed down the two slices of pizza. How much longer was she going to have to endure this treatment? How many more days of awful, icky oatmeal? Of nasty, yucky harsh soap? Of being caged all day and night?

Until you stop fighting and start behaving, a tiny voice in her head whispered.

But . . . but that would mean caving in! Giving in! she wailed back.

Your choice, the voice whispered back. They told you that would always be your choice. They weren't going to force you, hold a gun to your head. You weren't given a choice about enduring this, true, but you do have the freedom to choose whether to obey or not. You just have to accept the results and consequences of your decisions.

Was it really worth it? Continuing to fight and resist? She hadn't gotten anywhere doing that, it was like beating her head against a brick wall. And she really couldn't even say they were being cruel and callous either. Harsh, yes. Very strict and stern, yes. Extremely demanding but, even then, Sasha had to admit they'd been cutting her slack. More then a few times she'd been too tired or exhausted to do things properly and exactly, and they hadn't punished her for that. Only when she could have done better and chose not to had she been punished.

Courtney didn't take very long to finish dinner, neatly eating her slices and drinking some iced tea. Once she was done she had Sasha stand to be leashed, then attached the leash and took her back to her cage again. Sasha was miserable; itchy, sticky with sweat and slobber - and cream, she hotly blushed, feeling that down there, too. She badly wanted a shower, badly wanted that gag out, badly wanted real food.

Courtney had her kneel at the entrance to the cage, and while Sasha valiantly struggled not to whine she couldn't keep from sniffling, feeling despair at the prospect of being caged while still gagged with this gag! Then stiffened as she felt Courtney's tiny fingers pluck at the buckle behind her head. She couldn't help groaning as the large pear was slowly removed from her small, gaped mouth, nor could she help the furious blush as a literal flood of spit cascaded down her chin and chest as it was fully withdrawn.

If Courtney noticed that she didn't say anything, she simply had Sasha crawl back in the cage before locking it closed again. It wasn't the easiest thing to do but, once inside, Sasha used a corner of the sheet to wipe her face and chest off before lying down and closing her eyes. Her muscles were mortally exhausted and strained, trembling with fatigue and stress, her tummy was rumbling and she was parched and thirsty.

And there wasn't anything she could do about any of that but wait.

Wait until her Mistress chose to do something about them.