Parte 7 - Second escape attempt
Now I should continue with the story of the beginning of things, where I left
off in chapter four.
Onda's first spanking and the physical pain and taste of defeat left in me,
kept me in my cage for long weeks to come. During the first days I had serious
trouble standing and even lying down, which I couldn't perform without waves of
pain all over my little body, especially my behind. Onda, on the contrary, got
out of our confrontation with much more confidence and control than before. She
showed herself more and more assertive handling our relationship, and started
to adopt a tone of command when speaking to me. Although for the first few days
there wasn't much conversation, things started to come back to normal very much
the same they had been before the cage door had been opened. Every now and then
I would think of that open door, me inside not risking stepping out lest she'd
prepared another trap or God knows what. After some time I started to pay
special attention to various noises around the house when Onda wasn't in, and
also several phone conversations she had with friends and family. I came to the
conclusion that she was leaving for work all right and wouldn't possibly wait
for me in the hall every day of her life. That's how my instinctive thirst for
freedom started to make my brain work again in that direction, thus planting
the seed of the disastrous end to come.
One day, after much pondering and planning and praying for courage, I decided
time had come for me to try again. I'd have to set out right after she'd leave.
My aim would be the two balconies in the apartment, either the small one in the
kitchen or the big one outside the living room. I knew there would be 3 floors
to climb down before touching ground level, but I'd use strings, ropes and
ribbons we used to keep in the storage room. I'd only have to be quick and
lucky.
‘M’ morning finally arrived. Onda left for work as usual and I waited a few
minutes before coming out. Some last minute fear, though, prevented me from
starting right away -what if I failed?- and I lost some valuable hour trying to
find my courage again. Finally, after so many weeks, I ventured my first step
out. Like the first time, I walked toward the bedroom door and stood there for
a few seconds before popping my head out into the hall. This time no marble
columns waited for me. The way was clear.
You'll probably remember that since the day of my shrinking all I had seen of
the world in its new dimension was the bedroom around my cage. I had gotten
used to that sight all right. But the rest of the house, man, was it different!
The main hall, leading from the entrance door and the living room to the 3
other rooms, kitchen and toilets, seemed a mile long. The dimension of things
was very confusing and quite intimidating. Everything was in its usual place,
though. Before continuing I had a good look around the hall and my eyes
eventually rested on the upper wall, near the ceiling. There it was. A little
video camera, perched on a metal arm was pointing down at the bedroom door I
had just come out from. A small red light indicated the camera was working.
This really didn't take me aback since I was expecting some kind of surveillance
system. I had decided that if it were a camera Onda would only be able to watch
my escape after she returned home, once I had been long gone. As a good-bye
gift I gave the camera a finger.
I went into the kitchen. As expected, the door leading to the small balcony was
closed. I managed to drag a little (well, huge) stool against it, climbed on
the thing and jumped up, catching the door handle with both my hands. The door
was locked, and the key wasn't there. The two windows aside, a bit to my surprise,
were covered with a wire mesh that wasn't there before. I had to discard that
possibility.
My next goal was the living room, the largest room in the house, with a long
balcony running all along the front. When walking past the camera again though,
a paralyzing thought crossed my mind, making me stop dead, a surge of cold
sweat covering my entire body. Looking up at the camera again, I confirmed my
worst fears: it wasn't a video camera; it was one of those close-circuit
security things you see in shops and busses. There was a monitor somewhere. Was
I being watched? If I knew Onda, I was. The whole idea of how much time I had
left changed in a second. I had to be very quick. I ran to the living room and
had a good look at the glass doors leading to the balcony. The huge sliding
panes, framed in aluminum and running the length of the balcony were closed and
locked with an impossibly tall lever. Right above the panes, though, there were
two other sliding, narrow, glass doors, mainly for ventilation purposes, but
big enough to allow my body through. One of them was open. My way up there
would be through the curtain, rather drawn aside but leading right to the
window near the frame. Of course that was only the way up. For the way down I
was going to need the strings I have mentioned before.
I ran to the smallest room in the apartment, used for storage, and managed my
way up the old desk on top of which there was the little cardboard box
containing such ribbons, strings, and so on. I knocked it down easily, too easily.
It was empty. There was something in there, though, and it made my heart stop.
A little piece of paper said: ‘Trying to run away, darling?’
Oh, my God!
I stumbled down the desk and ran back to the living room. I was starting to
feel confused and very scared. The one thing to do was climb up that curtain
and run for my life. After a few minutes of clumsy curtain cliff hanging, I
reached the top and stood on the upper frame catching breath. From my vantage
point I could see the low houses across the road. As I was trying to work out
my next step when I saw the beginning of the end: Onda's car slowly arrived
down the road. She parked it and quietly came out. I'll never forget how
beautiful she looked, tall and erect in her smart blue executive suit, black
stockings and medium high heels, her light brown hair falling gracefully down
her shoulders. I'll never forget my fear, either. Why should she be back in the
middle of the morning if not for me? The terror of what that meant quickly
replaced the pleasure of her sight. There was only one dignified thing for me
to do now: fight.
I climbed down the curtain and stood at the other end of the hall, my heart
thumping with fear. My plan was to wait for her to come in and run as heavily
as I could against her legs, trying to hit her or something, at least gaining
the upper hand in such an unfair contest.
I stood there, my whole body heaving with audible breath, waiting for her to
come in. I heard the lock; there she was. As she turned back to close the door
behind her I started my mad race against Goliath, shouting at the top of my
voice, like an old warrior. The image must have been quite amusing for her.
Onda had plenty of time to turn round again and wait a little for me to get
closer. She simply dropped her handbag in front of me, making me stumble badly
and roll all the way to the tip of her shoes.
You should know, my dear friends, that in all these 3 long years Onda owns me,
and the numberless times she's spanked and punished me in every possible way,
I've never once, not even once, managed to hit back in any effective way. She
can do whatever she wants with me and there is nothing I can do against her
incredible power.
I quickly got up to my feet and started running in the opposite direction. Onda
advanced a few steps and I felt once more the mighty grip of her hand around my
body. Still without uttering a word, she took me back to the bedroom, sat on
the bed, proceeded to stretch me on her legs like the first time, and grabbed a
house slipper lying down on the floor next to the bed.
The following spanking could have won a competition. She mercilessly slapped
every bit of flesh on my little body. I cried, I shouted, screamed, wept,
kicked, shook, twisted, shrieked, trying in vain to set myself free, to avoid
the next blow. Nothing helped. She continued hitting, starting to lose a bit of
control herself. The pain was excruciating. I wished I'd be dead. My body went
flex. I peed and pooed on myself, I vomited; blood was coming out of
everywhere. I begged, I pleaded, I supplicated, I screamed for mercy.
"Are you going to disobey me again?” she shouted at me.
"Noooooo", I cried.
She repeated the question a million times and a million times I answered it at
the top of my lungs.
"Are you going to disobey me again?!"
"Noooooooooooooo!!!!! Please, my queen. Noooooooooo!!!!!!!
She stopped for a few seconds, quite agitated herself, her pretty face
transfigured into a lioness's. She roughly pulled my hair back with her
long-nailed fingers and, bringing her face closer to mine said in a clear-cut
tone,
"And thank you very much for giving me your finger, darling, but I'm
afraid you'll have to take it back."
And with this she stretched out her middle finger, long nail and all, and
shoved it down my open mouth.
I swear to God, I've never felt anything like that since the day I was born. I
don't know where the end of her finger got down to, but I felt it against the
end of my butt. My arms spread out violently, my eyes shot wide open in shock,
and I realized I couldn't breathe. Still holding me like that Onda placed me
back on her legs and resumed the barrage where she had just stopped. My brain
was about to blow up. Just when I thought I was saying good-bye to this world,
Onda sharply removed her finger. My lip joints were torn open and bleeding
badly. Half of that blood went down into my lungs as I desperately tried to
catch up breath. I was a mess. I was a mess. Before I even had time to think I
heard Onda say,
"And now, darling, we'll make sure you never try to run away again".
And snatching a pair of scissors out of the drawer in the bedside table, she
opened them over and under my legs and,
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!” I screamed, terrified". "No,
please, Onda, no, no, no, my queen. I'll be good, I'll obey, I'll do whatever
you tell me to, I'll never try to escape again, I'll be your slave if you want,
I'll never disobey again, I swear, I swear to God, Onda, please, please Onda,
don't, don't. I'm begging you, my queen. Don't cut my legs, please don't, please,
please."
"Shut up, you piece of s..!” she shouted. And, lifting the arm in which
she held me, threw me forcibly against my cage.
I found myself on the floor, still begging, still crying.
"Come here you son of a b..!" she shouted again.
I dragged myself on the floor up to her shoes.
"On your feet, piece of c.."
I did as well as I could.
"I want you to kiss my feet, shout loudly that you'll never disobey me
again and go run around your cage. Do you understand?" she still shouted.
"Yes, my queen!” I cried.
And with this I proceeded to do what she had told me. I kissed her feet,
shouted I'd never disobey again, and made a loop round my cage and back to her
feet.
"Do it again, son of a..", she screamed.
And I did, stumbling against my cage, against some furniture, against Onda's
own legs, hardly knowing what I was doing any more.
"Do it a thousand times, you bastard, a thousand times!" she
finished.
I started to run around God only knows what. I guess I must have passed out
after a few rounds, for I don't have any further recollections of that judgment
day.
Nenhum comentário:
Postar um comentário