Content Warning:
This story contains intense depictions of cruelty toward the main character. It is purely a work of fantasy and should not be interpreted as a reflection of real-life behaviour or actions.
Please read the content warnings in Ch. 01 and do not continue if this will cause you distress.
Morning came far too quickly, and when the buzzer went off at eight am, Emma couldn't think why she was naked and in a cage. Then everything came flooding back; the humiliation she had endured yesterday, the situation she found herself in; and she blushed a deep red. The orders William and James had given her the previous afternoon rang in her mind, and she dutifully pushed the cage door open and crawled out.
Her knees and back were throbbing from being cramped all night, and her arse still felt like it was on fire. She stretched slowly, and gently moved her neck back and forth in an attempt to ease it. She found her way to the bathroom and stepped into the shower, the hot water soothing her aching muscles. She washed her hair and found a women's razor on the side. Carefully, she removed all her body hair, paying particular attention to her pussy. She had never much bothered with it, doing only enough to look neat and presentable, and before long her arm was aching with the effort. Eventually she ran a hand over her pussy and arsehole, and felt that it was good enough.
She stepped out and dried herself off, then padded over to the spare bedroom, praying they had left her something more comfortable to wear today. She found another pair of ridiculously high-heels, red this time, and a red thong. Again, there was nothing else for her to put on. With a sigh, she slipped into the clothes and glanced at herself in the mirror. They had provided a hair-drier and brush, and she assumed she was supposed to make herself look presentable.
When she was finally satisfied that they wouldn't complain about her appearance, Emma glanced at the clock. It was nine am, so she tottered down the stairs, hoping they hadn't asked her to prepare anything too complicated for breakfast.
She quickly found the menu: toast and cereal for breakfast, fish and chips for lunch, and nothing for dinner. That gave her pause, but she didn't think much about it. She just thanked the heavens that William and James seemed to have decided to go easy on her, and set about making the toast.
At exactly half-past nine, William and James came into the kitchen. Emma had laid all the cereals out on the table, placed a jug of milk and a tray of buttered toast next to them, and set two place-settings. She didn't expect to be allowed to eat with them. When they arrived she was stood, as ordered, in the corner with her eyes cast down.
They ignored her through breakfast, chatting about other things and generally taking their time. Eventually, James stood up and took the dog-bowl out of the dishwasher. Emma heard him scraping and slopping the leftovers into it, and didn't look up.
William pushed her head in the direction of the bowl. "Eat."
She knelt down and looked at the food she had been given. Bits of toast were mixed in with coco pops and muesli, swimming in milk. Had they picked the worst combination of cereals, just to get at her? She could feel them getting impatient behind her, so she lowered her face into the mush and began to eat. When she had licked out the last crumbs and drops of milk, she turned her attention to the other side of the bowl. They had slopped the left-over cold coffee into it, and when she began lapping it up, she tasted sugar. She had always insisted that coffee with sugar was undrinkable, but they both had two or three sugars in their hot drinks. She felt faintly sick, but finished it all.
When she was finished, she licked up the food and drink that had spilled, then picked up the dishes and the bowl and put them all into the dishwasher, turning it on before washing herself in the sink. Bits of muesli had already dried onto her bare chest, and she had to pick them off. Without looking at William and James, she dried herself and walked into the living room, standing in the corner and waiting, as she had been told to.
After a few minutes they joined her there, lounging back casually on the sofa. "You've learned well," William said approvingly. "The food wasn't half-bad either."
"Although it was only toast and cereal, so we're not holding our breath," James said lightly.
"The house is a mess," William told her. "Your first job today will be to clean it, top to bottom. I figure it will take you a couple of hours. The cleaning products are in the kitchen. We'll be checking, so it had better be pristine." He got up and removed the cuffs, and then both men ignored her.
Emma had been expecting something much worse, so she didn't hesitate to go into the kitchen. She took all the cleaning products out of the cupboard under the sink - they never cleaned up after themselves, and she didn't even know they had cleaning products. They must have got them in just for her. She set about wiping down the counters and cupboard doors, before moving onto the oven, which needed scrubbing. Finally she swept and mopped the floor, feeling relief that she could be certain of its cleanliness for her next meal.
She moved through the house, tidying and polishing, throwing away rubbish and emptying ash-trays. She picked up all their clothes and put them in the laundry basket, and vacuumed the carpets. She bleached the toilet and scrubbed the shower. Finally, she felt confident that it would meet with their approval, and returned to the living-room.
William and James weren't there, so she stood in her corner and waited for them to come back. "Not bad, bitch." James was grinning; she could hear it in his voice. "It's nice to know we've got a full-time maid as well as a sex-toy living in the house."
Emma blushed, but didn't say anything. She was tired and wanted to sit down, but she knew she wouldn't be allowed. Worse, the coffee and the milk were taking effect and she was starting to need to go to the toilet. They had told her she was allowed to go, but the thought of asking permission like a child felt humiliating.
Still, she couldn't ignore it much longer, and who knew what they would have her do next. "Master?" she said in a small voice.
"What is it?"
"May I go to the toilet, please, master?"
There was a moment of agonising silence, and Emma prayed they would let her. Then William said, "Of course you can." She almost smiled and began to move towards the stairs, but before she could get anywhere, James had clipped the lead onto her collar.
They were going to lead her up there, she realised. But James wasn't walking towards the stairs. He was leading her into the kitchen, towards the back door. A slow understanding crept up on Emma, and she hoped she was wrong.
James unlocked the door and led her out into the garden, William following behind. She hesitated, and William gave her a push. "Go on, then."
"I don't think she understands," said James.
"We've explained it to you over and over again," William said in a bored and mocking voice. "You're not a real person; you're nothing. You sleep in a cage like an animal, you eat like an animal, and you will piss like an animal." He pulled her thong down, exposing her newly shaved pussy to the cold air, and pushed her onto her knees. "Go and crawl over to a suitable bush and do your business," he told her.
The thong was tangled round her ankles, but Emma hadn't been given permission to remove it, and she didn't want to be punished again. She awkwardly crawled over to a bush and stared at it, wondering how on earth she was going to manage this without spraying herself. Finally, she realised she had no choice but to do it like a dog.
Flushing red, Emma lifted the leg nearest the bush and tried to piss. Nothing came. She closed her eyes and tried to relax; tried to forget that she was outside peeing up against a bush like an animal; tried to forget that William and James were standing there watching her. And relief followed, as she emptied her bladder and managed to avoid getting any urine on herself. Awkwardly, she crawled back over to her masters and pushed herself back onto her feet.
James handed her a wet-wipe and told her to clean herself up. She felt humiliated beyond belief, but she did as she was told. Once she had pulled her thong back up, they lead her back into the house.
Emma sneaked a look at the clock in the kitchen, as they passed through it into the living room, and saw that it was about midday. She had got through almost three more hours already, she told herself. Time was slowly ticking past, and she could cope with it.
The men ignored her for a few more hours, and when she finally thought she would die if she had to stand still any longer, William told her to get the lunch on. With relief she went into the kitchen and started to peel potatoes. Short though her time in the house had been, she was already used to mealtimes by now, and she got through the leftovers in her bowl quite quickly.
Far too soon, she was back in the living room again, and waiting for them to give the next order. It came immediately. "Stand in front of the sofa and look at us."
She did as she was told. They were both sat comfortably on the big sofa, feet up on the coffee table that she had polished that morning. They were drinking cans of beer and grinning at her. "We're going out this evening," William told her. "We don't want a repeat of last night's performance, ok?"
"Yes master," she replied dutifully, trying to look at them while avoiding their eyes. It was much worse when she looked into their eyes.
