When I finally gave up on banging on the door and shouting, my number one priority was to get out of that damn corset and shoes, which were killing me. But even there, I found myself imprisoned – I could not unzip the panel behind my back hiding the laces to the corset, and the straps around my ankles holding the shoes had a little clip which required a key or screwdriver to unfasten. Even the collar, which I had removed easily yesterday, wouldn't come off, so I was locked into the fetish outfit I had been forced to wear.

Frustrated by the clothes, I explored my 'prison cell' to see if it held anything which might help me. I was surprised to find a small refrigerator in one corner which contained a stack of energy drinks. This was good in one way, in that I was dying of thirst and I guzzled a whole bottle down in one go, but in another way it was very bad news, because it indicated that they planned to keep me here for some considerable time. In another corner, I found something altogether weirder, which made me feel sick. In a small alcove was a toilet, but not only had the seat been removed, the top of the bowl had been deliberately broken, so that there were upturned shards of porcelain, forcing anyone trying to use it to squat over the bowl. And there, behind the toilet, was a CCTV camera, angled up to target the exact area where my bum would be if I had to use it. These two bastards were covering all the angles, hoping to satisfy even the sickest of perverts.

As I suspected, the sofa folded out into a bed, with a thin, plastic-covered mattress, and I slumped down on the edge of it, feeling desperate about the situation I found myself in. But now I had something else to worry about – I was having a hot flush, which is unusual in a nineteen year old. My face was burning with a rush of blood, my heart was pounding and that was not all. My pussy was suddenly tingling and, when I 'accidentally' grazed the tips of my fingers across my pubic hair, it was like an electric shock going through my body.

I parted my pussy lips, and I could feel that my clitoris was engorged, and incredibly sensitive to my touch. Moments later, I was lying back on the bed, legs wide apart, my fingers desperately trying to satisfy the uncontrollable urge to make myself cum. I knew I should not be doing this, that the CCTV cameras would be picking up my every move, that sometime soon perverts would be enjoying watching me masturbating for their pleasure, but I just couldn't stop myself, I was out of control.

I was grunting and whimpering in desperation as I forced myself to a rapid orgasm, but it didn't seem to satisfy me at all, I kept going, forcing myself to cum again. I was pinching and squeezing my nipples with one hand while the other worked on my burning pussy, as I rolled about on the bed, trying to get some satisfaction.

At last, after my third climax, I was spent, and I lay there, exhausted, even though the blood was still coursing through my body. Slowly, understanding dawned on me – I must have been drugged with Viagra, and it must have been in the energy drink. I felt sick with shame at how I had displayed myself, but I was even more dismayed at just how warped these guys who had kidnapped me were. Suddenly I was frightened at where this horrible nightmare was leading. I crawled up the mattress and fell into a troubled sleep.

I woke up in the night – morning, afternoon, I had no idea, the lights were always on – with a desperate urge to pee. I didn't want to use the toilet, I didn't want to humiliate myself any further, but I couldn't see many alternatives. I could use the shower instead, but I suspected that would be monitored by a camera as well; I could just go in the corner of the room, but that would be caught on CCTV anyway, plus I still had some vestige of civilisation, even if the bastards who'd imprisoned me didn't.

So I dashed to the toilet and squatted over the broken bowl. As I did so, extra lights came on behind me and I heard the camera whirr into action. I thought it might inhibit me from going but, as I released my stream of steaming urine, I suddenly realised that my bowels were also moving. I just had time to realise that the drink must have been spiked with a laxative as well as Viagra, before my bottom exploded with a surge of liquid diarrhoea which seemed to go on forever. I wondered what kind of sick pervert wanted to see me shitting everywhere, but I knew they would be out there and they would pay good money for this horrible video.

I staggered back to the sofa-bed, having cleaned myself up as best I could, and curled up in a foetal ball, just wanting the world to leave me alone, and that's the position in which I fell asleep again.

I woke with a scream and clutched at my thigh, which was stinging like it had been attacked by a hive of bees.

"Get up, you stinking slut!" Steve was standing over me, holding the riding crop he had just hit me with. I scrambled to my feet as he threatened to hit me again, and cowered in front of him.

He reached out and grabbed the chain hanging from my collar and pulled me to him, but only so he could unlock the straps on my shoes and release the corset laces, before loosening them and ordering me to strip. I did as I was told, feeling relieved to ease myself out of the corset and take off the shoes, even though I ended up naked. Meanwhile, Steve had put a metal bowl full of disgusting-looking and foul-smelling chunks of meat in gravy on the floor in front of me.

"Get down and eat it!" he ordered. I looked at it and turned up my nose.

"I can't eat that – its dog food!" I let out a scream as the crop slashed down across my buttock.

"Don't give me any lip, you cheeky cunt! Eat it now!" I fell to my hands and knees, with the bowl in front of me. My stomach retched just at the smell, but as I looked up imploringly, I saw him raise his arm threateningly and I stuck my face into the bowl. It tasted worse than it smelled and it was all I could do to stop myself throwing it straight back up, but I managed to choke it down eventually.

"Lick the bowl clean" he commanded, with evident relish. That was almost too much, the texture of the gelatinous gravy making me retch again, but I just managed to keep it down.

"Good job you weren't sick", he sneered, "You'd have had to eat it all over again. Now get in the shower and get your filthy body clean".

As I got into the shower cubicle, the first thing I saw was the camera in the wall behind a pane of glass, with no pretence of secret surveillance – I was going to be filmed and they didn't care that I knew it. The shower had only one control, just a big button, with no power or temperature settings. Tentatively, I pressed the button, and was immediately hit by a blast of ice-cold water from the shower head, making me squeal in surprise and to cower in the corner as I was quickly drenched and shivering.

I tried to switch the thing off, to catch my breath, but pressing the button again had no effect. The water was so cold and intense, I tried to get out of the cubicle, but the door was locked, presumably by the same mechanism which operated the shower. I had no choice but to stand and be hosed down until it decided to stop. Mercifully, it relented after maybe five minutes, but I was shaking violently and uncontrollably, I was so cold. There was a soap dispenser attached to the wall and I lathered myself from head to toe, using it as shampoo as well as shower gel.

I hesitated to press the button again, but I had no choice, I had to rinse myself. It was so fierce it was like standing in front of a fire hose, and I struggled to stay on my feet. As I finally stepped out, the only towel around was a small hand towel, and I rubbed myself vigorously dry to try and warm myself up. When I was done, I put the soaking towel over a rail to dry – I doubted if there would be fresh for the next time.

Mr. Harman had joined Steve and I felt I had to make one last attempt to appeal to reason.

"Oh, Mr. Harman, please, you have to let me go, you can't –" My entreaties were cut off as Steve once more lashed out at me with the riding crop, catching me across the shoulders.

"That's for addressing me inappropriately" Mr. Harman said coldly.

"I'm sorry, Sir, I forgot" I whimpered, actually putting my hands together in supplication.

"I think we've moved beyond the 'professional' relationship. You can call me Master" I was rather taken aback by this, but I could see he was expecting me to reply.

"Yes ... Master" I said reluctantly, but seeing Steve's arm rising once more.

"Good" Mr. Harman said, "And to Steve as well". I swallowed hard.

"Yes ... Master."

"Good. Now, Steve is going to punish you for having the temerity to try and tell me what I can and can't do". Steve grabbed me as I wailed, whipping me hard, once across each buttock.

"Get her ready while I organise the shop" Mr. Harman said as he left the room.

"Put your clothes on and do your make-up" Steve ordered, indicating the bed, where various items had been laid out. There was a short rubberised corset which zipped up the front and, although it was much less restrictive and less traditional than the one I'd worn last night, it looked very sexy once I'd got it on. There was a wide collar made in a matching material, and when I put that on, I had difficulty turning or lowering my head.

Next were black latex stockings, which were a nightmare to get on and, when I had finally worked them all the way up to my thighs, a tiny lock clicked home around the tops, ensuring I would need to be released from them later. There were more impossibly high heels to wear, which also locked in place around my ankles, and to finish off the ensemble, black latex gloves which also locked in place just below my armpits.

I sat at the dressing table and put on the make-up – bright red lipstick and black mascara again, plus blue eye shadow and a little blusher – and I wasn't sure if I looked more like a hooker or a transsexual.

"Lie on the bed and keep still" Steve barked. When I did so, he sprayed shaving foam all over my pubic hair and, five minutes later, I was completely shaved down there and cringing as the aftershave he had splashed over my pubic mound stung like crazy.

He dragged me to my feet and, pulling my arms behind me, looped a leather belt around them and yanked it tight around my elbows, pulling them together so quickly I let out a gasp of pain as it felt like my shoulder had been wrenched out of its socket. I felt a gag thrust into my mouth and strapped tight behind my neck, but it wasn't a ball gag, it was a ring which forced my mouth wide open. It appeared I was now ready, as Steve dragged me out into the shop.

I noticed that the display by the counter had been set up with what I was currently wearing and I could see and hear that the large monitor on the wall was replaying my 'performance' in the store room from the night before. Underneath the monitor was a sign saying 'Live streaming 24/7 at www.farout-ent.co.uk' – and I realised, with a sinking feeling, that my imprisonment was now a Big Brother-style webcast.

Steve made me stand right in the middle of the shop, which had been cleared of displays so that a small raised dais could be added. He helped me step up and stand with my legs apart, while he locked chains around my ankles, holding me in place. He removed the belt holding my elbows together behind me and raised my arms up towards the ceiling, where two more chains hung down. He wrapped and locked one around each wrist, holding me stretched out in a star position, on display to anyone walking into the shop. He positioned a couple of signs next to me, one of which said 'Today's special : Whips, canes, floggers', the other 'See It. Buy It. Try It'. I felt physically sick, and it wasn't just because of the dog food I'd eaten.

Steve came over to me carrying a pole, with a Rampant Rabbit vibrator taped on the end of it. He pushed the fluorescent pink device into me, ignoring my protesting moans at the lack of lubricant, then jammed the other end of the pole against the dais, so that I was impaled on the thing, unable to get away from its insistent stimulation when he switched it on.

A few minutes later, they opened the shop and a flood of eager customers rushed in, excited to see what the horny girl was doing this time, and they weren't disappointed. Not only was I sexily dressed, in chains, with bare breasts and freshly shaved pussy on show, but I was writhing and moaning in very obvious sexual arousal, and a large gobbet of drool had escaped through the ring gag and was hanging off my chin, oozing down my chest.

They stood and watched, open-mouthed, until I reached a noisy climax, cumming so hard that my juices could be seen running down the pole. There was no respite, of course, as the Rabbit buzzed away inside me, and they settled in for a repeat performance. It wasn't until I had reached a second exhausting climax that Mr. Harman came over and removed the vibrator and pole, telling everyone that if they wanted further entertainment, they had to buy his toys to use on me.

A few minutes later, I felt my first 'customer' forcing an enormous plug into my butt. This was quickly followed by someone who had bought some kind of electric shock device, which he enthusiastically pressed against my clitoris and repeatedly fired, leaving me screaming in pain and thrashing about uselessly in the chains, until somehow he forced me to cum, after which I hung limply from the chains, barely conscious.

It wasn't long before someone had bought a cane, and brought it over to try out on me. He tried a few light strokes across my buttocks, clearly enjoying my yelps of pain and struggles to avoid further punishment. But he got into his swing and I was soon screaming in agony as he brought the stick down as hard as he could.

I was still trying to come to terms with the pain from my arse after the severe caning when I saw another man step in front of me with a flogger in his hand. I watched in horrified fascination, almost mesmerised, as he swung it from side to side, the leather tails swishing through the air, as he got the feel of it, letting his anticipation, and that of the crowd, mount, along with my fear. When he brought it down across my breasts, it was every bit as painful as I had feared, the individual strips of leather biting into my skin and each bringing its own little pain explosion, while the overall effect was one of a blinding and excruciating agony as he whipped the flogger across my chest again and again, achieving a terrible rhythm and reducing me to floods of tears.

I hung limply from the chains, trying to recover from this beating, but I was not to be left in peace. Some sadistic bastard decided that what I really needed, with my breasts still throbbing from their whipping, was to have clamps attached to my nipples. I could only groan weakly as the customer reached up to me and pinched and pulled my aching nipples to erection, then closed the vicious metal teeth on them, which brought a desperate wail from my throat, already hoarse with screaming.

When I thought my torment could not get any worse, it did exactly that. There was an interlude where I was only subjected to penetration by a variety of dildos and vibrators, both front and back, which was humiliating and uncomfortable, but not particularly painful. The nipple clamps continued to torment me, but the niggling pain from them was suddenly eclipsed by a searing pain in my pussy.

The collar prevented me from looking to see what was happening, but it was pretty clear that clamps similar to those on my nipples had been applied to my labia. The initial burst of agony didn't seem to dissipate as it had for my nipples, if anything it intensified. As I cried out and struggled, thrashing in the chains, I felt the clamps, with what felt like lead weights attached, swinging against my thighs.

The man with the electric shocker must have returned, or maybe someone else had bought one, because suddenly my clitoris was being electrocuted as well. I felt like I was going out of my mind with pain as I looked out at the sea of upturned faces, all so excited at what they were witnessing. Mercifully, at some point in all this I lost consciousness, freeing me at least temporarily from my torture.

When I came around, I was lying on the mattress in the converted store room. I had been left there alone, presumably dumped there to recover. The clamps had been removed, but my whole body was aching and I lay still, letting the pain subside. Maybe half an hour later, I heard the door open and I turned to see Mr. Harman and Steve come in.

"I see you're awake" Mr. Harman said with no particular air of concern in his voice, "You rather spoilt the evening for some of the punters, forcing us to stop their entertainment"

"Maybe we should punish her for being so weak" Steve suggested with an evil look.

"Well, to help her to understand her new role in life as our property rather than our employee, I think we should assert our rights of ownership." Property? Ownership? I didn't understand what they were talking about.

"Sounds good to me, do you want to go first?" Steve asked.

"I thought we might do her at the same time". Steve grabbed my arm and dragged me to my feet, pinning my arms together behind my back once again by buckling a belt around my elbows, while Mr. Harman pulled a large packing crate into the middle of the room. I was forced to lie across the crate on my stomach, and the two men took up positions in front of and behind me.

I watched Mr. Harman unfasten his trousers and pull them down, revealing his surprisingly large cock, which was fully erect. Without any preliminaries, he slid the head of it through the ring gag that was still in my mouth, pushing it all the way in until I was choking on it. At the same time, I felt Steve grab me by the hips and force his own erection into me, driving it in until his thighs were slapping against mine.

They seemed to establish a rhythm, where they would both thrust into me at the same time, penetrating as deep as was possible. They rode me like that for an age, they seemed able to control themselves to prevent cumming too soon, and to my astonishment and dismay I found myself becoming more and more aroused.

I didn't want to cum for them, to give them the satisfaction of responding to their touch, but my body was betraying me. I was licking and sucking at the cock in my mouth, and pushing my hips back to meet Steve's thrusts. And then, within the space of a few seconds, all three of us came. First, the cock in my mouth twitched and squirted down my throat, which seemed to trigger my own orgasm, sending shivers through my body and convulsions in my pussy, which almost certainly caused Steve to shoot his load as well.

I was relieved when I felt the belt on my arms loosened, but by the time I had freed myself and got off the case, they had left and I was once again locked away on my own. I knew I was locked in the clothes I was wearing, including the corset and collar, but my heart sank when I realised the ring gag was also locked on and couldn't be removed. I was thirsty, having spent all evening drooling over myself, but I didn't want to risk the energy drinks from the fridge, as I assumed they were all drugged, and I didn't want to suffer that horrible mix of aphrodisiac and laxative, so I lay down on the mattress and tried to go to sleep.

I had no clock or natural daylight, but when I woke up, I was sure it was afternoon and I was surprised that my captors had not come in to prepare me for the night's activities. When I did a count-back, I realised it must be Monday, and the shop didn't open on Monday, so I would probably be left until tomorrow.

In a way, this was great, I certainly needed a day off, but I was starving hungry and very thirsty. I still didn't want to risk the suspect drinks, so I decided my only option was to get in the shower and drink the water there. I must have looked a bit odd, getting into the cubicle dressed as I was, but I couldn't keep worrying about people watching me, and indeed, this became less and less of a consideration – they say people in reality shows soon forget the cameras and, despite their intrusive nature, I was gradually getting used to those trained on me.

The water from the shower was just as cold and powerful as before, and I almost immediately regretted the decision to go in there. I cowered in the corner with my back to the stream, trying to just catch some of the water dripping down my face in my permanently open mouth. I didn't try to wash myself and got out of there at the earliest opportunity, but I was still shivering violently as I hunted around for the towel I had used the other day. But it had been removed, and I could only drip disconsolately on the floor.

The day dragged by, with nothing to do and nothing to distract me from thinking about my situation, which was bleak. I was being held against my will, imprisoned, and with no realistic hope of release or escape. I could think of no-one out in the 'real' world who would report me missing – my landlord would just assume I had done a runner, and re-let my room, the university had students drop out and disappear all the time, I had no close friends and my mother didn't know or care where I was. I was being forced to exhibit myself every night, and I had now been forced to have sex with my captors as well, and I had no way of stopping them doing whatever they wanted with me. I lay down and cried myself to sleep.

I woke up at some point – no idea if it was day or night – and couldn't cope with the thirst and hunger. I also couldn't face the shower again, so had to resort to the energy drinks. I had finished two of them before I could stop myself, and I sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting for the drugs to kick in.

I don't want to describe it, but the effects were worse than the first time, as the urge to cum and the need to purge myself hit at the same time, forcing me to squat over the toilet in front of the camera, but at the same time I was unable to keep my fingers out of my burning hot pussy. The sense of shame and humiliation was overwhelming, but that still couldn't stop me from making myself cum to multiple orgasms as I rolled around on the floor, out of control.

The door eventually opened and, after being fed more dog food, I was forced to go through the routine of getting ready for another night in the shop. I had to wear a body harness, all leather straps and steel rings, which was buckled tight around my neck, chest, breasts, stomach and hips. My breasts were pulled through two of the steel rings, making them look like weird fleshy globes tacked on to my body.

The harness went between my legs and buckled up tight, but there were holes in the strap, so that toys could be inserted if required. My head was covered by a leather hood, strapped on very tightly, with a built-in ring gag, so I would be drooling again tonight. The boots I was made to wear were bizarre, and instantly painful. They came up above my knees and had such high heels that I was forced up onto my toes like a ballet dancer, and could take only tiny steps.

The final item I had to wear was a heavy metal bar connecting three manacles, which locked around my neck and then my wrists, holding my arms out to either side of my head, like mobile stocks. Suitably attired, I tottered out into the shop.

The doors had just been opened but the place was already mobbed. Steve was pushing me through the crowd, but they were taking every opportunity to cop a feel, and I was being groped, my breasts and bottom squeezed and pinched, my pussy and asshole fingered, as I went by. I was grateful for the hood which completely covered my face, giving me a degree of anonymity which, perversely, meant I felt less ashamed that all the physical contact was turning me on. My head was telling me that I could not enjoy being used and abused against my will by all these total strangers, but my body wasn't listening.

At the far end of the shop, as far away from the door as you could get, was a small room, which in the past had probably been used as an office by some accountant. There was a sign outside it which read "£20 for 5 minutes with our model". How quaint, I thought as I was hustled inside, still calling me a model, rather than prostitute or whore! I noticed the cameras as Steve pushed me down onto my knees – this new humiliation was to be broadcast to my fans around the world.

The first paying customer came into the room only a few minutes later and, without saying a word – why would you waste time talking to what was no more than a tool for making you cum? – he dropped his trousers and stuck his erect cock through the ring into my mouth. Well within his five minutes, he had shot his load and left me to swallow his deposit.

Almost immediately, customer number two was in there and I was sucking cock again. And so it went, one after another, until I was feeling very queasy with the amount of cum I had swallowed, in addition to what had been splashed in my face and over my body, or had just dribbled out of my mouth and hung in long strings from my chin. As my stomach churned, I shuffled over to a corner of the room and threw up everything in my stomach, including the dog food, in a horrible, stinking mess. Steve heard me (or maybe was watching on camera) and came in, grumbling about having to clean up after me. He also wiped me down, saying that customers had started to complain about sloppy seconds.

After a few more blowjobs, I was pulled up onto my feet and made to bend over whilst I was taken from behind. This then became the norm, with only the occasional customer preferring me to suck them off. Despite the speed with which they came, and their total lack of interest in my satisfaction, I found myself becoming more and more aroused with each brief fucking.

After about three of them, I reached orgasm, and after that I seemed to be cumming virtually every time. I was soon exhausted, my body covered in sweat and my feet not just aching but riven by shooting pains from my toes, through my Achilles tendons all the way to the hamstrings in my thighs.

Having decided not to keep beating myself up with moral outrage at my inhumane and illegal treatment, I was almost enjoying being constantly fucked and made to cum. That is, until I felt several fingers being forced into my anus and gel being smeared all around there. I had never been 'buggered', and the thought of it was repulsive. I moaned and struggled for the first time, trying to make it abundantly clear I did NOT want him to go there.

"Stop your struggling, bitch, or I'll punch you" I heard him growl behind me, and I confined myself to pathetic mewing noises to try and appeal to him to stop, but of course it had no effect. As he put the tip of his erection against my sphincter and forced it in, I let out a howl of despair. It didn't hurt any more than having a dildo shoved up there, but it was psychologically so much worse – another humiliating step on the path to total degradation.

It all became a horrible blur as I was violated in all three orifices over the following hours. At last it stopped, the noise from outside abating as customers were ushered out into the Soho streets and the shop was shut. Steve came into the room and dragged me to my feet and back to my cell.

I hoped he would free my arms and remove the leather hood but didn't expect him to release me from the clothes – the pattern was that I would stay in my night gear, presumably for the benefit of web viewers.

But, rather than release me, he forced me down on the bed and rammed a huge dildo and butt plug into me. The monsters both started vibrating, and as I writhed about under their malign influence, I watched Steve smile cruelly, turn and walk out, locking the door behind him. I let out another inarticulate howl as I was forced to orgasm over and over for the benefit of the cameras. That was a long night.

And the days that followed were long as well, stretching endlessly before me. They all followed the same grizzly pattern – late afternoon: shower, eat, get dressed in some bizarre fetish and bondage gear; evening: service the customers' needs and desires in whatever way necessary, whether in private sex sessions or public displays; night and most of the day: locked away, sleeping, pacing like a caged animal at the zoo, constantly on display; and then it all starts again.

It was mind-numbingly boring – there were no distractions like TV or books, no-one to talk to – and I started to look forward to the evenings just for the human contact, even though I was treated like a dog. I would sometimes act up just to get some attention, even though it meant getting a beating – just like a dog not getting enough love, I suppose.

Gradually the days became weeks – although I knew when a week had passed because of the day off, I had no real idea how long I was there, I was in a kind of trance, unable or unwilling to think longer term than the next day or the next mealtime. My brain had shut down, and I could not even think back to my previous life as an eager and bright student.

And then my life changed again. Mr Harman came in and I knelt submissively on the floor – he had a habit of making me suck him when he arrived, and I had learned to adopt the position if I didn't want to be hit or shouted at.

"Good news, Kat" he said with a smile. I looked up warily – that could mean a new piece of torture equipment which I would be demonstrating.

"Yes, Master?" I said dutifully.

"Yes", he said as he helped me out of the bondage I had been left in, "I have found your replacement – a beautiful young Chinese girl, almost as naïve as you were when you first came here. So you no longer have to work here in the shop!"

"You're ... setting me free, Master?" I said with a mixture of hope and fear in my voice.

"Free?" he said in an amused tone, "Well, I wouldn't be a very good owner if I just turfed you out onto the street, now would I?" At that moment the door opened and Steve came in, dragging a large wooden crate – large enough, I noted darkly, for a person to fit in.

"I've sold you on to a very good customer" Mr Harman went on, as I stared at him in disbelief.

"Sold me? But Master ..." I trailed off, feeling bewildered, not sure whether I was just feeling scared at the thought of being in the control of some unknown pervert, or whether I was hurt that my Master didn't want or need me anymore – I was being replaced.

"Don't worry, Kat", he went on blithely, "You'll be fine. Now, we need to get you packed for your journey."

Steve grabbed me and together they bound me tightly to a metal pole so I would not be able to bang or kick the crate to make a noise once I was in it. They forced an inflatable gag into my mouth and pumped it until my desperate screams were almost entirely stifled. Then they laid me down in the crate on a bed of polystyrene 'packing peanuts' and, as I struggled frantically but vainly against the ropes, Steve poured more of the peanuts around me and over me, filling the crate and burying all but my face. My last sight as Steve lowered the lid over me was of Mr Harman's face, beaming down at me. Then only darkness and the sound of an electric screwdriver as the box was sealed.

I had no idea where I was going or to whom I had been sold, like the slave I now knew I was...