Chapter 7: My First Taste of Dungeon Life

On that first morning, I suppose I spent until nearly noon just trying to get used to wearing my new ensemble, always discovering the different ways in which it restricted me, and, as was the intent, disciplined me. Occasionally, I used the toilet and found the whole process to be embarrassingly awkward. My face flamed beneath the mask when I did, for the TV camera followed my every movement. I would have to get used to being constantly under its close observation.

At one point, I moved to the heavy ring set deep and high in the back wall of the cell, to which my two leash chains were attached, and looked closely at it. This high security arrangement was utterly solid, without a break of any kind in the chain links themselves or the ring. Soon, I gave up all hope of being able to pull the chains off it or their fastenings to my harness and what little I could see of my arm restraints was just as permanent! I could see but could not touch them!

Eventually, my stomach told me it was time to eat, and so I returned to the computer desk then sat again on the hard stool. I took me a long time to pry the flexible lids from the plastic dishes, but I eventually managed it then with great difficulty, fed myself with the soft plastic spoon Thomas had left behind. I hated plastic dishes, but now I had no choice. No juice had been left with my midday meal and so I soon had to struggle to the small bath cell to fill the plastic cup, and that whole process was a difficult one. I dropped the cup once, it slipping through my gloved fingers then spent a long, uncomfortable time picking it up. At one point I fell over then just lay in stunned misery, squirming uselessly with my legs held spread apart and chained hands widely separated. No one was to help or pity me, and it took a while for that fact to sink in, then, in silent tears I managed to get to my feet once more.

My harness was uncomfortable and horribly limiting, just as I’d designed it to be, and I now began to realize that I had done far too well! The unending silence was dreadful, for I was permitted no radio, TV, or music. This of course was an additional punishment to being confined. I felt foolish talking to myself, other than the small moans and curses torn from me when I discovered yet another way the harness inhibited my movements. At last, I returned to the computer table and sat again on the stool. Before me was the book of rules Thomas had created and instructed me to memorize, for they would govern my life completely. On the last page it stated that there would be many types of additional punishments I would receive, over and above the fact that I was already being disciplined by my imprisonment and harness. Even the smallest breaches would be dealt with. However, he’d made no mention of the actual types of discipline I’d receive and the phrases were ominous.

At last I got tired of trying to memorize his dense wording and turned to the computer screen. All that there is on the steel desk is the monitor, keyboard, mouse, and the computer itself, locked into a steel mesh enclosure. I raised my hands as high as the chain permitted and found I could reach all except the top row of keys, but with only one hand at a time! The separator bar ensured this, and so I held the mouse with it and used it as the ‘Shift’ key. With some experimentation, I found that if I slid my body forward on the hard seat so that my crotch plate rested on the edge of the stool, pressing it more firmly into my body, then raised one of my feet from the floor, I could touch the top row of keys, but this quickly became very tiring and uncomfortable. Basically, I had to learn to type all over again, and at the same time, build up my stamina because my fingers quickly tired, fighting against the constant restriction and compression of their thick gloves.

I’m not sure how long I sat and played with the keyboard, but soon, my seat again became very uncomfortable because of my chastity belt. I stood and wandered slowly around the cell, trying to accustom myself to the feel of my new restraints and the environment. At that time I guess what bothered me most was the total lack of sound from outside. Certainly I was lonely and bored, but that was expected, and I thought I could live with it. However, over time, the oppressive silence began to make me feel even more and more a prisoner. I automatically and continually pulled at my arm and hand restraints, trying to somehow find a way to ease their restriction, but of course, there was no possible chance of this. The head cage, pressing firmly on the mask, made me almost crazy, and even when I tried to lean forward against the bars and rub it away from its leech-like grip on my face the steel straps prevented any release from the constant sensation of its stickiness. None of the cuffs I wore could be shifted from their clamping of my limbs, for they compressed the underlying three mm thick dungeon suit firmly, and being oval in shape, I couldn’t twist my limbs within them. It was very frustrating and served to continually remind me that I was a prisoner. For the rest of the day, I alternated between sitting at the computer and moving slowly around the cell, occasionally stopping to inspect the two, vertical steel pipes and their attached rings and chains, wondering how they would be used. Hanging from the ceiling, near the back wall, about a metre and a half away from my mat, was a single chain connected to the middle of a thick, steel bar, this about a metre in length. At either end a chain was welded to the underside loop, hanging down to end in a very sturdy lock, approximately 20 cm above the level of my chastity belt’s waist cinch. Welded to the middle underside loop was another chain and locked to that was much shorter one. There was a similar arrangement inside the small bath cell, and I knew I would eventually discover just how all of these ominous devices could be used.

At last, I heard the noises of the bars being moved on the outer side of the door to the anteroom then Thomas stepped through carrying more of the hated plastic dishes and a plastic cup. He closed the door behind him and came and stood on the other side of the barred wall.

“Good evening convict!” he said, unsmiling.

“G-good evening, Master.” I answered, struggling slowly to the bars then reaching out and holding them.

“I trust you enjoyed your first full day as a prisoner?”

“I-I was scared, Master.” I whispered, forced by my head cage to stare up into his eyes. “But I am slowly getting used to the idea that I am totally helpless.”

“That’s good! I want you to have a deep and full psychological understanding that you are completely at my mercy and unable to escape your harness and this dungeon.”

“I-I am beginning to understand that, Master.”

“Excellent! Now, take your food and eat. After, we’ll talk for a while.”

He passed the containers between the bars, and I placed each and the cup on the computer desk and was about to sit on the stool.

“Convict!” he barked, “Ask permission to do anything other than stand or kneel while I am in the dungeon.”

“Yes, Master!” I replied, shocked that I was to be even more closely controlled. “Please, Master, may I sit and eat my meal?”

“Go ahead, convict.”

I lowered myself gingerly to sit on the hard-topped stool, again feeling the uncomfortable presence of the steel strap between my legs. Although I tried to make myself a little more comfortable it was impossible. He leaned against the wall under the high window while I bent forward as much as I could and began spooning the mushy food into my mouth. With every movement of my hands and arms, I was conscious of how stringently I was bound, this reinforced by the clicking and rattling of my chains. Every few bites, I looked up to see him smiling grimly, knowing he was my Master. At last, my meal was finished.

“Stand, convict, and hand me your dishes.”

I did as he commanded then turned to face the bars.

“Sabrina,” he began, “you made me very angry last night and that is why you are here now. However, I did not spend all the money and time I have, just to have this dungeon and the harness created, as punishment, for only a single occasion such as that. I know you have committed other crimes, but we will get to them sometime in the future.”

“But-but ...” I stammered, confused by his accusation. He cut off my protest.

“You have seen some of the other things in here that will be used as further discipline measures when I feel they are necessary.”

“Yes, Master. I’ve looked at them and wondered what they are for.”

“You’ll find out soon enough. Given your strong will and the lack of effort you make to obey my rules, it’s certain. However, not at the moment. While you are in here, you will be kept chaste at all times unless I require you to serve me sexually and that is one of the reasons for the fixing bars and their chains.

“They will also be used to secure you when you are cleaned every two days. This will begin tomorrow morning. The fixing bars will also be employed when your harness or any of its parts, needs to be changed or adjusted, or even if I just feel that you should be punished by being kept fastened between them.”

I wanted to ask about the chain and bar arrangements hanging from the ceiling, but didn’t for fear I would immediately find out. He continued.

“I want you to begin constructing a web site, convict. All of the required programs and files are contained in the computer, and so you will begin learning tomorrow. I expect a preliminary design from you within four days, and if it isn’t ready then, you will be punished for disobedience.”

“Yes, Master!” I replied with some worry. Even though I had some computer knowledge, it wasn’t very good. “Master? What am I to do in here? I am almost helpless, and the harness is much more restrictive and uncomfortable than I ever thought it would be!”

“What you do in there, other than the tasks I set for you, convict, is of little interest to me. This dungeon and your restraints are designed to discipline you for misbehaviour, and the fact that they are extremely efficient in achieving those aims can only be to the good! So, you have found your harness to be far more restrictive and punishing than you thought it would be? Excellent, but you will not be permitted to alter or escape it, and you had best get used to that!”

“How-how long am I to be kept in here, Master, please?”

“I haven’t made a decision. Certainly for some time yet.”

“Oh!” I whispered, pulling forlornly against my chains, hoping he’d take pity on me.

We talked for another hour about the house and what we might do on our proposed vacation in the south of France, as well as a few other things. He came close to the bars and stared down into my dungeon suit and steel-surrounded eyes. The fingers of one of his hands reached up and slowly caressed the small area of open skin around my eyes. He touched my lips gently, while below, I felt the feathery brushes of his other fingers tracing the visible flesh surrounding the steel plate clamped so tightly into my belly. I closed my eyes and shuddered with desire to hold him, but the steel bar separating my wrists clanged fruitlessly against with finality those of the lattice wall. He silently continued his soft, tantalizing caresses, and I moaned even more, fighting to touch him, but was forbidden to do so by the equipment and chains locked onto me and the bars between us. My harnessed hips thrust out hard against the bars, needing more and more attention from his teasing fingers, while under the crotch plate, my labia engorged with sensitising blood, pressing against the impervious steel and I felt my body begin to lubricate as a prelude to sex and, Oh, God! I wanted to feel him inside me so badly!

His fingers left.

He’d stepped back from the lattice wall and was staring at me like a hawk waiting for its prey. He turned abruptly and walked from the dungeon without a word then the door slid shut with a solid thud, and I heard the bolts slam and lock with that oh so final sound. I continued to stand at the lattice wall, banging my armoured crotch repeatedly into the bars with frustrated desire, gasping and whining pitifully. Next, in desperation, I shuffled to the corner of the table and tried even harder to somehow stimulate my body through the iron panty; repeatedly thrusting my hips and the steel crotch plate into its edge. Nothing I did made the slightest difference, and even worse, inside the cups imprisoning my breasts, I felt them swell demandingly! My hands jerked at the steel bar and chains while I tried to get at my sensation starved erogenous zones, but all I attempted was utterly useless!

I don’t know how long I continued like this, but I finally gave up and with groans of frustration, sat on my mat. Once down, all I could do was stare at my Spanish Trapezoid and the heavy chain that linked it to the steel ball, as well as the pile of my leash chains that had settled over my shoulder and puddled on the floor between my lower legs. The dungeon remained utterly silent, other than the clicks of my body harness and my slowly subsiding, gasping pants. He had been cruel to have teased me like that then just abandon me, but, somewhere in the back of my mind, I was enjoying my state of being a total, vulnerable, and helpless prisoner. Whenever the thoughts of my dreams came to mind, I couldn’t stop the shudders that swept through my restrained, rubber-encased body.

Finally, much later, the first beep sounded, and I got awkwardly to my feet then went into the bath cell and completed my evening ablutions. I had just lain down on the mat when the other beep sounded, and I closed my eyes, trying to go to sleep. It was a long time before I drifted off and then I suffered terrible nightmares when I struggled unconsciously against my bonds. The wake up beeping came far too early!

Thomas delivered my breakfast soon after and again, I had to ask to sit and eat, driving home my controllability once more. He spoke little while I ate then took all of my used dishes and the cup and set them on the floor, next to the outer wall. I watched closely while he fished out the gold chain from around his neck that held the key to the door in the barred wall then came to the door and opened it.

“Go and stand between the fixing bars!” he commanded brusquely.

Without a word, I shuffled noisily over to stand between them then stood waiting for him to make the next move. He quickly came to stand beside me then reached out and drew a mid-level chain from each post and locked them to the side rings of my waistband. I shuddered with a strange sensation, feeling myself made even more helpless, but he was far from done fastening me, for another pair of chains was pulled out and fastened to the outer staples on each of my wrist cuffs, pulling them up and holding them firmly immobilized, well away from my crotch. He knelt and took the bottom most chains on each post and locked them to the outer staples on each of my ankle cuffs. By this point, I was gasping and shaking like a leaf in the breeze, both in apprehension and growing arousal. He stood, then took two more chains, these at a level just above my neck, and fastened them to the ring of my collar and head cage combination, at the back of my neck. The last ones came down from the uppermost rings of the fixing bars and were fastened to the ring mounted at the crown of my head cage and were drawn so tightly that I was completely unable to move my head in any axes.

“M-master ... ?” I quavered, wondering what he was going to do to me next.

“Be silent, convict!” he ordered, leaving me for a moment. I heard the running of the water in the small bath cell then he returned to where I stood immovably chained. “It’s time for you to be cleansed, and, as I told you, this will be done every two days while you are a prisoner.”

I heard a subtle click at my waist, and suddenly the wide steel of the front shield of my chastity belt sprang free of its bracket. He swung it down then back between my chained together thighs and I shivered from the coolness of the air that washed across the heated skin of my lower belly and sex. Oh, it felt so good not to have that thing clamped tightly between my legs! Even though chained, I writhed a little with the simple pleasure of it not being there and reminding me so constantly of the control I was held under. I couldn’t help the moan of pleasure I made.

“That feels better, doesn’t it, convict?” he asked quietly. I heard the sound of water moving in a bowl.

“Oh, Master!” I gasped, “It feels so wonderful!”

“Perhaps in a moment you will not think so!” he stated ominously, but said no more.

Again, I faintly heard some noise, then all of a sudden, felt the bristles of a brush gazing the skin of my lower belly! It got worse, for he moved the brush downward and its spikiness slid across the lust-inflamed lengths of my shaven labia, then inside me to pull along the sensitive flesh there! This was why he had chained me so thoroughly! I screamed then, jerking dementedly at my chains, frantic to escape this horrid brushing and cleaning!

“AAAAAAAHHHHH! Nnnnooooo! Pppplllleeeaaassseee! No! No more, Master! Please, please, please!”

“Be silent, convict!” he snapped. “You must be cleansed every two days at the very least, and this is how it will be done!”

I couldn’t stop my howling and pleading while he continued brushing, soaping, then rinsing of my belly and sex. He next shaved away the little of my pubic hair that had grown out and I felt how naked I was with a flaming face. I didn’t see it, but he moved around behind me and, this time, briskly applied the brush. I certainly needed the attention there, but again, the scraping of the bristles on the tender flesh between the two hillocks of muscle nearly drove me insane! No matter how I tried to surge away and clench myself, the brush found its mark, and I was soon howling wordlessly, sobbing with humiliation and discomfort.

At last, he was done and spent some minutes spreading a soothing, antiseptic ointment over my exposed flesh. When he moved away, I heard the flush of the toilet when he poured away the water he’d used, then I stood trembling and gasping for another couple of moments while he took the brush and bowl out of the cell. I desperately wanted him to caress my sex and give me some sensation and he sensed my need, for when he returned, he stood in front of me, then I felt the feather-light brushing of his finger tips. They traced along my labia and I tried to swing and thrust my hips out to enhance his touch, but could only move a very little bit. All the while, his fingers continued teasing, stroking slowly, maddeningly, up and around my clitoris. I moaned with frantic need, almost screaming from the delicious sensations, fighting to get closer to him, and he smiled into my eyes all the while, knowing I was nearly crazy with desire.

A moment later, he stopped, and I wailed with wordless misery when he slowly pulled the wide, uncomfortable shield forward between my trembling thighs then up over my still quaking belly. The top end slipped over the front flange of the waistband and I felt him fit the lock, driving the teasing steel wedge deeply up into my sex. The lock closed with a snap, and once more, I was fully sealed into my chastity belt. There had been no way for me to free myself or try for any sort of stimulation and now he stood and smiled down into my imploring eyes.

“That, convict, is what might happen, very rarely when you are cleaned.”

He quickly unlocked all of the chains holding me between the fixing bars then stepped away, leaving me standing in shocked dismay at what had just happened and at what he’d just said. Thomas exited the cell very quickly then I heard the sturdy lock of the barred door snap closed and the next day of my boring existence began. I stared hopelessly at the window and grey cement wall beyond it, then sat at the desk and began to study how to create the website. When that became too much, I reread my Dungeon Rules and tried to memorize them, always feeling the continual discomfort of my ensnaring harness. Occasionally, I walked around the cell but there was nothing else to do!

Later, in a fit of remorse and boredom, I lay on my mat and curled up as much as my chains would permit, then stayed that way for a couple of hours. All I could do was struggle fitfully against the overwhelming restriction of the ensemble and stare at the obdurate, thick steel that so efficiently confined me

The next ten days followed the same pattern and by that point, I was nearly a raving mad woman from the lack of sexual satisfaction. Finally, one night after my meal, while we were talking, I exploded with anger; frustrated and tired of this game, as I thought of it at that point.

“Thomas!” I yelled at him, “I want you to free me from this horrible prison! Right now!!”

“Sabrina!” he shouted back at me. “Be quiet or I’ll come in there and punish you for your impertinence!”

I was stunned into silence. Thomas had never shouted at me before!

“Now, before we go any further, you will come to the bars and remain there.”

Slowly, I shuffled up to them. He reached to my chastity belt’s waistband and pulled it tightly against the lattice then with short lengths of chain and heavy locks, fastened it there, holding me tight. I stared at him wildly while he did then to my surprise and misery, he began to slowly caress and tease me again! Oh, how I wanted to have sex with him! But I didn’t want him to just tease me and leave! He had his plans though and when I tried to escape his tantalizing fingers by jerking myself away from them, of course, I couldn’t! He silently continued, staring fiercely down into my eyes until I closed them in silent surrender, shuddering and moaning pitifully while I writhed frantically in my restraints, trying to enhance the sensations, or to somehow reach out to him through the bars. I couldn’t, thanks to the separator bar between my wrist cuffs and so thrust my steel-clad body urgently at him, but the lattice separated us without mercy. Inarticulate begging rose from my soul, and tears of misery filled my eyes.

“Oooohh! Mmmaassstterrr! Pppllleasee!” I whimpered in desperate need, shuddering, trying desperately to get nearer to him.

“Soon, Little One, you will learn how much of a slave you truly are!” he whispered, all the while continuing to excite my body with his busy fingers.

“Ppppllleeeaaasssee, Master!!! I howled with urgent desire flooding through me, “I need you so badly! Please! Please!”

“No!” he said, yet still continuing to tease. “You will be kept here as you are for some time yet.”

I began to weep in near-hysteria, for the sensations his dancing fingers forced me to experience were maddening! I shook and fought madly to escape his ministrations, but chained to the bars as I was and restricted by my harness, all I could do was to stand and stare helplessly up at him while he tormented me. At last, he stopped and quickly unlocked the chains, then without a word or a kiss, left me for the night.

The dungeon door slammed shut and was locked, leaving me in a deep whirlpool of frustrated desire and anger at how I had been treated. Without thought, I began screaming wildly, fighting my harness, cursing and crying at the same time while I struggled to my mat and flung myself down upon it. Still nearly hysterical, I flailed as best I could with desperation to escape the unbelievable restriction to my free movement. I rolled back and forth, kicking against the Spanish Trapezoid and leash to the steel ball, but nothing I did changed my bondage in the slightest, and that made my struggles even crazier! At last, I stopped to lay gasping and panting hard from the effort of my struggles, weeping like a small child, pulling despairingly and haplessly at my chains. I was exhausted and soon fell into a tear-filled sleep.

Thomas kept me there for another 15 days.

One morning, he arrived, and to my surprise came to the door in the barred wall and opened it. Other than the too brief times he’d so impersonally cleaned me every second morning, this was the only time he’d been inside my cell. I was absurdly grateful to have him come close, struggling against the restriction of my terrible harness to be near him. He watched me impassively for a moment then went back into the anteroom and brought in a drill and hammer. I stared hungrily at them, for they betokened, perhaps, a coming freedom. He spent a few moments getting the equipment set up then beckoned me to come close to him and stand still. With a smile, he began drilling out the rivets that secured the cuffs and harness around my body then stopped part way and spoke quietly.

“Your imprisonment is over ... for now, Sabrina.”