Casey Butler and Mistress Claw Part 3: The Pit




http://literfull12.deviantart.com/art/Casey-Butler-and-Mistress-Claw-Part-3-The-Pit-423619193

My name is Casey Butler. I'm twenty-four years old. I have blonde, shag cut
hair. I'm one hundred and five pounds. I'm five feet, nine inches tall. I have
a pale skin. I'm also screwed.

Three days ago, I had thought life sucked. I had wrecked everything, and
people wrecked the rest of it. But I was wrong. What's happening to me now,
sucks. What's happening now sucks.

I've been taken prisoner by some sort of a thirty-seven year old, crazed
dominatrix lady, who presented herself as a woman named Cybil. What she likes
to be called is "Mistress Claw." She's drugged me, beaten me, humiliated me,
and has kept me trussed up in her sound proof basement. She's stripped me down
to my black bra and underwear.

No one's coming for me.

I'm on day three of my stay with her.

She's left me alone for hours now. Said she was heading upstate, to pickup a
friend of hers. Someone who she said was very interested in meeting me. I'm
suspended by my feet with suspension stirrups. She put me in a straitjacket,
and hung me upside down from the rafters. A cloth with a knot in the middle is
jammed in my mouth knotted behind my head, with another tied over it and my
nose.

This is what she calls a break.

I don't hear her come in. I don't hear anything besides the blood pouring into
my head, and the pounding of my heart.

She steps into my view, sporting a new outfit. A red leather corset, with a
red leather long skirt. Still sporting a black domino mask, like I don't know
who she is.

"This is her Madame Jezebel," Mistress Claw says to the woman who just steps
into my line of sight. She's wearing a a green wrap dress, and pumps. She has
brown crop cut hair. "This is Casey Butler."

She starts circling around me, sizing me up, I bet. She steps back in front of
me, her arms in a contemplative position.

"What a fine specimen you have here, Claw," she states.

"Yes, and her attitude fits the criteria for our institute, The Pit, I
believe," Claw elaborates. "She's defiant, fit, and flexible. I think she
needs to see how fair I've been, and how much worse it can be."

"Why come to me now?" Jezebel asks.

"Because my identity, this Cybil persona you created for me, has come under
some scrutiny," she explains. "Federal scrutiny. We always assumed it was a
paper thin setup. The fact that it lasted this long, a year, is an amazing
stroke of fortune."

"Perhaps. Lauren the strange was quite proud of the work she had done with it.
I call her and have her make the necessary preparations for us. Easy access
into Canada. We can't show up on a record. We'll need to leave immediately,
too," Jezebel says.

"Wonderful. Thank you, Madame. I'll prepare her for the trip," Claw says to
the woman who's already taken it upon herself to start to leave. Claw then
turns her attention to me.

"Well, here we are Casey. You know, I considered keeping you for myself, my
own private plaything. But, Some people had to go poking around into my
business," she tells me. "And I'm not finished with you yet. Not by a long
shot. The Pit is secluded. Underground, in the woods. We created a signal dead
zone five miles wide in the area around it. It runs deep underground, with
layers of security beyond your imposed bondage. There's no escape, and there's
no longer a limit to what you'll experience."

"MMMMff HMMP MM," I rage behind my gag and twist in my straitjacket. This has
gone too far. I can't let it go down like this.

"Hope your ready for a road trip."