Chapter 7:

I'm a journalist. I work for a city rag. A shrinking, dying rag choked to death by the shifting paradigm of the digital world. I work for, or actually, I am the obituary department. I have to write them all. It's a pathetic job, but alas, one of the only sections of the paper that ever gets read anymore. I'm sure that that will change as soon as some web startup called Craig's Dead List or something gets properly funded. Until then, it's me.

I have always had ambitions to write features and such and, I think that I propose good topics, but I always seem to be too late. NemesisGirl, the bitch, seems to be able to read my mind and submit ideas disturbingly similar to mine. She's got to be stealing them somehow.

In fact, when I returned from my morning break, I noticed that my computer screen was on and a document containing a lede I was investigating was highlighted. Apparently some redneck Georgia legislator suggested that women should not be allowed to abort dead fetuses. He suggested that just like his farm animals, women should wait and pass them naturally. (What the fuck?)

When I looked up NemesisGirl was sneering at me with a smug look on her face.

I stood up and marched to BossWoman's office, certain that this time I would complain about NemesisGirl. Unfortunately, I am unable to speak in her presence for some reason.

"Oh! subGrrl! Hi! How was your weekend? Did you do much?" Her eager blue eyes sparkled in harmony with her warm smile.

"Um..." I eloquently responded.

"Did you get the stack of profiles I left on your desk? I think that the woman who was burgled, raped, and beaten to death with the carcass of her own chihuahua is up today. Please be gentle when you mention the dog. We don't want another PETA incident, do we?"

Her voice is just particularly distracting. It makes me think of things that are not pertinent like leaves rustling and cool creeks on hot summer days. Chocolate.

"Oh, shit! Sorry, subGrrl. Meeting! 'Machete Man' has struck again. We're going to figure out how to write a crossover story in the Lifestyle section." She danced past me and I watched her walk down the hall. Yes. She must have been a dancer.

Writing obits is okay I guess. You have to put yourself into a certain mindset. I try to speak of the deceased as though they have won a race. I try to treat the survivors as I would my dolls as a girl, sipping tea from tiny ceramic cups. When I do a good job BossWoman sometimes lays an electric golden hand on my shoulder and says, "Great job, subGrrl" in a way that makes me want to believe that I have done something to save the world from sorrow and sadness.

Chapter 8:

Lisianski was waiting for me the moment I left work. "Time to go home and get back to searching for codes, right?"

I didn't have the heart to tell her that there was no fucking way I was going to get in that cage again. She seemed to be able to sense my plans, though.

"You ARE going to get in the cage, aren't you, subGrrl?"

I continued to ignore her. I thought that if I could get my prescription refill and get back on my medication, then I would be rid of her and her goddamned cage. I could ignore her for a few hours with no problem.

"Did you know, subGrrl, that the only reason people ever stop screaming is because they need to take a breath of air from time to time?" Lisianski asked. "I, however, am only a voice in your head. I don't need to breathe. I could scream constantly without stopping for the rest of your life. La la la la..."

When the bus arrived, I found a seat against the window that I could curl up in.

"Did you know, subGrrl, that the reason people can't talk to two people simultaneously is because they only have one mouth?" Lisianski asked. "I, however, don't use a mouth per se. I can generate multiple voices in your head."

Sure enough: "subGrrl's asking for big trouble, if she stops to get her medicine," the Lisianskis sang in two part harmony. "'Excruciating' describes pain, we'll apply upon her back end."

I lifted my hand to my forehead hoping to squeeze Lisianski out of my brain. The bus was approaching the complex where the pharmacy was located.

"Don't request for the bus to stop, subGrrl," Lisianski warned.

I prayed that someone else would pull the cord to request a stop. At the last moment, I leapt up and snatched the cord causing the bell to ring.

"Bitch!" Lisianski growled.

The bus driver slammed on the brakes. I started to get ready to jump off the bus.

I don't know how to describe what happened next. A wall of sound assaulted my brain. It was louder than anything my brain has ever registered - a sound so great that if its source had been a physical disturbance, it would have permanently damaged one's ears. I felt like my brain had run smack into a steel wall at full speed. My legs gave out and I collapsed onto the floor of the bus.

"Stop!" I cried. "Please stop!"

The noise did stop. I looked up and everyone on the bus was looking at me.

"We are stopped, sweetheart," the bus driver called back to me. "Are you getting off?"

I looked at the open door. "Don't even think about it," Lisianski warned.

I stood up visibly shaking. "No, thanks," I whispered and I fell back into my seat.

I spent the rest of the ride home cursing Lisianski. I didn't care if the other patrons could hear me, I was so pissed. Indeed, when my stop finally arrived I realized that a riderless buffer had grown two rows wide around me.

I was still shaking when I stood in front of my cage. It had been cleaned and the bottle had been refilled. I started to climb on the table to get in, but Lisianski yelled, "Clothes! Take them off."

I pulled off all my clothes, dropping them on the floor and then slithered backwards into the cage.

"Close the door! Lock the padlock!" Resigned, I did as Lisianski commanded.

Chapter 9:

I spent the evening scrolling through an endless screen of meaningless one’s, zero’s, and bondage emojis between the bars of the door. At one point, the phone rang and I sat as still as a deer in headlights until the answering machine picked up. It was an automated message from the pharmacy reminding me to pick up my medication. I whimpered quietly, but returned to my task until the evening light faded and the room was only lit by the glow of the tablet screen.

"subGrrl? Please push your back end up to the rear window of the cage," Lisianski requested when I arrived at a stopping point.

I rose up onto my hands and knees and began to scoot backwards. The rear window of the cage had apparently been set at the perfect height for me to be able to press my posterior firmly into the foundation of the opening. As I slowly slid backwards, I could feel the edges of the opening press evenly around the outer limits of my backside - framing it perfectly. I quickly became particularly aware of the single vertical bar that spanned the opening. It must have been curved outwards because as I pressed backwards it slid alarmingly between my cheeks and its icy extent cradled me in an intimately disturbing manner.

"Push back further," Lisianski requested.

There must have been some nub of some sort perfectly aligned on the window bar which seemed to burrow and spread my cheeks apart as I pressed back. I could only imagine the view outside of the cage - a thin black, bar bisecting the swell of a pair of ghostly white ass cheeks.

"Perfect," Lisianski said.

I heard a swoosh and a splat sound. A stripe of liquid fire cut into my flesh spanning from cheek to cheek. The pain was white and hot. I jumped forward in shock, banging my head against the bar of the door.

"Ow! Fuck, that hurt!" I screamed. "How...? What did you do that for?"

"I warned you. You didn't follow my instructions on the bus, did you?" Lisianski said softly. "Stick your butt back out the window, please. There's more."

"No fucking way!" I shouted. "That hurt like hell!"

"Don't make me angry," Lisianski growled.

I grew silent and startled. I was gripped by a sudden strangling fear. It had not been Lisianski's voice that sparked my anxiety, but rather the tumble of a deep rolling sound outside the apartment which caused a window pane to rattle somewhere. Thunder! Shit!

I should have recognized the signs during the day. The temperature had been unseasonably warm. There had been a strong Southerly wind all day. It was late winter. Thunder this time of year can only mean one thing... Tornadoes! Shit!

"Lisianski! Let me out of the cage! Tornadoes!" I screamed, scratching at the door, trying to grasp the padlock in the darkness.

"You must finish receiving your punishment. Stick your ass back out the window." Thunder pulsed louder with every accented word of Lisianski's sentence.

"Come on! I'll do it later! Let me out!"

"Do it NOW!"

A two toned alarm cut through the air of my darkened apartment. I crouched shivering as the sound wrung terror from the night. A computerized voice began to calmly inform me that a tornado warning was in effect accompanied by a distant wail of storm sirens. I listened in fear to the places the storm had been and envisioned in my head the direction in which it was headed, slowly whimpering in fear which soon justified its presence as my neighborhood was called out on the radio. I was in the direct line of the storm.

"Please, Lisianski! I need to get out and go take cover."

"Stick your ass back out the window!" Her voice was punctuated now not by the bass-drum sound of distant rumbling thunder, but rather by full spectrum cracks from the constant flash of lightning. Lisanski’s words flashed around my dining room - wrapping around my old dusty curtains, bouncing off my barren, pictureless walls.

"Please, Lisianski! I'll do anything you want me to do if you let me out of here!" I was pounding on the bars with my fists, bruising my knuckles.

"Stick your ass back out the window!"

The wind outside began to gale. My windows were rattling. My cage was shaking. I could hear hail falling and debris attacking the siding.

Soon, I was certain, the walls would be torn away and my cage and I would be lifted up into the maelstrom. They would find me the next day half a state away - crumpled metal, bone, and flesh. NemesisGirl would whistle as she wrote my obituary. "subGrrl enjoyed spending her free time locked in a small cage, randomly typing screens full of sex emojis. She is survived by no one."

I heard what sounded like a freight train.

"Please..."

I shoved my posterior back into the window with the bar so lewdly, deeply nestled between my cheeks. The fires from Lisianski's magic lash began to rain down on my screaming body.

"Ow! Fuck! I hate you Lisianski! Ow! And I hate... Shit! ...these fucking sex emojis! Ow!" I screamed followed by a 'Whoosh!' and a 'Splat!' of the lash across my burning skin. My life seemed to be turning into a badly written sex story. And, I particularly hate when the spanking stories use onomatopoeias!

As I was whipped, the train sound evaporated like a bad dream. When it did, I collapsed to the floor of the cage crying and tender, clutching the unnatural darkness and silence around me.

"That's enough for tonight, subGrrl," Lisianski said calmly.

I lay sleepless for a while listening to a growing stream of distant sirens of emergency vehicles. How could Lisianski conjure a storm like that? For, certainly she did.

Chapter 10:

The next morning on the bus to work people seemed to be content to let me have my own seat as the driver carefully picked his way around trees and power lines and building parts.

"Oh, subGrrl, I was so worried about you when I heard your neighborhood was hit by the tornado!" BossWoman said to me as I arrived at work. "Did you hear that three people were killed?"

I felt sick and collapsed at my desk. I tried to convince myself that the storm had killed the people. Not Lisianski. Not me. I am not a murderess, am I? But, if I had let Lisianski whip me without putting up such a fuss, maybe they would still be alive. Their blood is on my hands.

In the afternoon, I received the profiles of the tornado victims. I had their names and the street addresses where their houses once stood, where dreams were once nurtured and loved, where today was only a barren slab of building foundation. My penance is to write their obituaries.

I hate you Lisianski!

<>--+-

I was working when Lisianski called to me.

"Fuck off!" I muttered.

"What?" NemesisGirl called from her desk.

"Nothing!" I said as I got up and walked to the bathroom.

After I had checked that the bathroom was empty, I locked myself into a stall. "What do you want, Lisianski?"

"I'm worried about you today, subGrrl. You are not yourself."

"Yeah! You just killed three people simply because I wouldn't let you whip me."

"Ha!" Lisianski said, sounding exasperated. "Whatever! If the death of three people is too much for you to handle, then you better get with the program and get serious about supporting the mission. How will you feel with the extermination of the entire human race on your hands?"

"Okay! Okay!" I said with tears streaming down my face. "I'll do whatever you want!"

"You say that now, but why should I believe you," Lisianski said. "You've been resistant since the very beginning. You are doing a terrible job of replacing the symbols. You haven't found any codes. You fight me at every turn. I even have to force you to get into the cage."

"I promise, Lisianski. I'll do better."

"You know, I think that we need to formalize our relationship a little more, subGrrl. You obviously need something to remind you who is in charge. From now on, I want you to call me Mistress. Do you understand?"

"Mistress? But..."

"Yes! Mistress! And speaking of butts, you are going to be pressing yours against that back window of the cage every night, begging for me to whip it from now on. Every night! Tell me that you understand!"

I was starting to shake and my tears were falling like the trees in the storm. Lisianski was right, I was losing it. I was out of control. I needed something to keep me from slipping over the edge. I needed Lisianski to be in control.

"I promise I will work harder."

"Ok, then," Lisianski sighed. "Tell me how much you love being in your cage and having your back end whipped."

I groaned.

"subGrrl!!!"

"Ok... I love being locked in my cage and being whipped..." I muttered.

"Who do you want to do these things to you, subGrrl? And louder, please," Lisianski demanded.

"I love for my Mistress to lock me in my cage and whip me!" I said a little louder.

"Again!" Lisianski screamed in my brain.

"I love for my Mistress to lock me in..."

Suddenly, I heard a knock on the bathroom stall. "subGrrl? Is that you in there? Are you ok?"

Chapter 11:

Oh, my god! It was NemesisGirl. And I could only imagine that she had heard every word that I had said. "Open the door, subGrrl!"

I flushed the toilet as though I had actually used it and slowly opened the door to the stall. NemesisGirl was leaning against the sink with a smug smile on her face and a smart phone in her hand. She tapped on the screen. I heard my voice on the phone's speaker say, "I love for my Mistress to lock me in my cage and whip me!"

I quailed.

"That's quite a soundbite, isn't it?" NemesisGirl asked. "You probably wouldn't want that getting around."

"No, please, I was..." I was trying to make up some plausible excuse, but nothing seemed to materialize. "I was singing a song. A rap song. Spoken word. By a small local band. You wouldn't have heard of them."

"Oh, yeah?" NemesisGirl nodded her head. Then she started shaking it back and forth. "Uh, no. I think that those are your words. I think that you actually DO like to be locked in a cage and whipped, don't you?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" I scoffed.

Lisianski growled in my head. "subGrrl, tell her the truth."

"Uh... I mean... yes..." I looked at the floor - counting how many steps it would require for me to run far, far away.

"Well," NemesisGirl said, smiling far too broadly. "This certainly explains a lot."

"It does?" I asked.

"Of course! You are just a little pet, aren't you? Do you have an owner, little pet?"

"Um..."

"Tell her 'No'," Lisianski instructed.

"No..."

"Well, you do now, pet," NemesisGirl said with barely contained glee. "You are such a strange little girl, pet. Frankly, there are lots of people here who are a little afraid of you. They seem to think that you are a little, um, unhinged, perhaps."

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I have no idea why anyone would think such ill things about me. I was speechless.

"Luckily for you, though, BossWoman likes the job that you do. And actually, to tell the truth, I kind of like you too. Don't get me wrong! You piss me off!" NemesisGirl's face suddenly became more pinched. "You obviously have talent writing, telling stories, coming up with ideas, but you have zero ability to execute. You are a complete fucking waste of talent. I couldn't stand to sit and watch you do nothing day in, day out, year after year. That's why I started stealing your ideas. Now I understand why you can't execute, though. Don't you?"

I shook my head, no.

"Because you are just a pet. You need someone to pull you around on a leash. From now on, I will be holding that leash. Got it?" NemesisGirl's tone was slightly threatening. I was afraid to react in any way. What if she is some crazy sadistic bitch? What was she going to make me do?

"It's very simple. I want you to give me three good ideas for articles every morning," NemesisGirl said.

"Okay," I whispered.

"They had better be good, too. Otherwise, I'm sure Ms. Morality over in human resources would find your little cage fantasy to be adequate evidence of your instability. I'm sure she would love to sever your relationship with the newspaper. It sure would be tough to find a new job in this economy, wouldn't it?"

"Okay," I whispered again, still studying the tiles on the floor.

NemesisGirl's voice softened in tone. "I think that we should formalize our relationship somehow, don't you pet?"

This was beginning to feel painfully familiar.

"I think that you should refer to me as 'Mistress' from now on," NemesisGirl suggested with a smile returning to her face.

"Yes, Mistress," I whispered.

"Very good," Lisianski said inside my brain.

"Yes, Mistress," I whispered again.

"You only need to answer once, pet," NemesisGirl corrected.

<>--+-

And that is how I fell under the supervision of two mistresses. My life was controlled all day by NemesisGirl and at night and on weekends I had to lock myself into my small cage, get my back end flayed, and look for special mysterious codes in screens full of BDSM sex emojis for Lisianski.

<>--+-

Some magical nights, while I was asleep dreaming, she would come to me - the short, naked woman with long brunette hair.

With her steel collar and chains, I would have thought that she would be a slave or something, but there was something more free about her than anyone that I have ever known in the real world. Sometimes she would take my hand and we would fly high into the sky over the countryside, mountains, rivers, and oceans. We would fly out until the stars wrapped themselves around us in a beautiful dance of joy and happiness.

She never said a word no matter how many questions that I asked. Maybe she could not speak? Certainly, she understood the things that I said.

I started calling her Laysan. I named her after a Pacific atoll. An atoll is an island that is formed by an ancient volcano. Typically, atolls look like narrow rings of sandy beach surrounding a shallow lagoon. I figured that Laysan must be a little like me after all, isolated, with a hole in the middle. But, just maybe, she is more hopeful than I, perhaps more certain that happiness will smile upon her. I certainly hope that she is.

Chapter 12:

I awoke to a stench in the middle of the night. My period had started and I lay in a pool of blood. I called out to Lisianski, but she wouldn't answer. I wept and pulled at the padlock of my cage for most of the night.

I must have drifted off towards dawn, for suddenly it was light and the cage was unlocked. Dirty, I poured out of the cage and tumbled to the floor. I showered and cleaned the cage. I dumped my last few maxi's into my purse and prepared to go to work.

"Where are my house keys?" I asked, staring at a lightened key ring.

"How the fuck would I know?" Lisianski answered rudely. "You must have had them when you came home, otherwise you never would have gotten through the door. Did you leave them in the lock outside?"

I checked, but they weren't there. Either I hadn't left them in the lock or... I certainly hope no one took them. I suddenly had visions of Machete Man palming my house keys waiting for the right night to creep in and commence his skewering.

"Come on, subGrrl! You're going to miss the bus."

I grabbed a set of spares from the cabinet and ran for the bus.

<>--+-

I was particularly miserable that day. My mood only worsened when NemesisGirl gave me a "gift". It was a leather choker with a single silver steel loop meant to hang in the hollow of my neck. She fit it around my neck herself and commanded me to wear it all the time except for when I showered.

As I sat solitary on the evening bus home, now well accustomed to the wide berth I was afforded by the other patrons, I mentioned to Lisianski that I would need to stop at the pharmacy for more sanitary napkins. She simply mumbled that she was ok with that plan.

Perhaps I made a particularly circuitous route through the pharmacy on purpose. I waved at the pharmacist who smiled and waved back. I had selected a large box of pads when the pharmacist shouted out to me.

"subGrrl! You've had a prescription waiting here for you for weeks. Don't you need your medicine?"

I acted surprised, though inside I was smiling. Lisianski seemed to shuffle nervously, but she didn't say anything. "Oh, yeah! I DO need those, now."

I paid for everything and then, in the flash of an eye, I popped the top of the medicine bottle and before Lisianski could voice her warning, I tossed a blue-green capsule in my mouth and swallowed it whole.

I expected Lisianski to raise holy terror inside my head, but she didn't say a word as I strolled with renewed vigor out the door.

I had my medicine! I had taken my medicine! No more Lisianski! "Later, bitch!" I said boldly.

I took the bus home. When I got to my apartment I stuck my tongue out at the cage sitting on my dining room table and flung NemesisGirl's leather choker across the room. I ordered a pizza and sprawled in front of the TV to watch some awful shows. When it was time, I went to my bedroom and stretched out upon my wonderful neglected bed reaching with each limb to the farthest corner possible. I imagined myself chained spread eagle on the bed until I felt a shiver of arousal flutter within me, and, suddenly uncomfortable, I curled into a ball. I fell asleep in peace still wearing my clothes.

That night I dreamt of Laysan. She pulled me out my window and we flew skyclad through the air. The countryside was colored blue-green. Indeed, it seemed to be raining medicine capsules. We landed next to a pond of pills and dipped our toes in to check the temperature. Laysan jumped in and began to do the backstroke through the soft capsules. I jumped in as well, inhaling a mouthful of drugs and spitting them out like a fountain.

Later, I found a hose that sprayed pills and I aimed it at Laysan. She brushed the capsules through her long hair and let them pour over her naked breasts and drip through the links of her chains.

Soon we lay on the shore of the pond holding hands and watching the pills swirl counterclockwise, watching birds dive and fish jump singing and flipping.

I awoke into darkness, bent and cramped.

"What the fuck!" I peered out through the metal bars of my cage. In the dim light I could see my medicine bottle, opened and emptied.

"Hello, bitch!" Lisianski sang. "You are in big trouble, aren't you?"

"What?" I said, flabbergasted. "You're not supposed to be here!"

"It takes a few dosages for the medicine to build up in your system," Lisianski explained. "I must say, though, I am particularly disappointed that you would willingly choose to suspend our relationship and jeopardize the mission."

"Where are my pills?" I asked, tears forming in my eyes. I swept my hand across my naked torso to feel NemesisGirl's choker buckled tightly - a new, small, keyed lock in the back hidden by my hair.

"I think," Lisianski continued, "that we should increase the number of lashings that you receive each night."

"This isn't fair!" I screamed.

"Oh, yes! Hmmm... I think you should now get fifteen instead of just ten."

"For how long?" I asked.

"Indefinitely, of course," Lisianski replied.

"What?! No!"

"Do you think eighteen is more fitting?" Lisianski asked.

"No! Please!" I cried.

"You're right! A round number is much easier to remember. Twenty! Twenty lashings each night."

"No!"

"Do you want more, subGrrl?"

"No, Mistress," I wept.

"We'll also need to make up the ones you miss due to your period."

I felt down and realized that I was wearing panties.

"It turns out, your antics were a blessing in disguise. Now that your supply is gone and since your medication is controlled, there is no way that you will be able to get more for three months. We don't have to worry about that anymore. Now, quit whimpering and go to sleep," Lisianski commanded. "Oh! And you might want to flush the toilet a couple more times in the morning to make sure all those pills don't clog the pipes."

Chapter 13:

Days turned to weeks. Spring approached. I found more sex emojis – x-frames with cuffs, latex hoods, ballet boots – and replaced common patterns of other symbols with the new ones. I researched article topics for NemesisGirl. I spent my free time cramped in my lonely cage.

NemesisGirl was proud and excited at my "initiative" to secure her choker with a padlock. I wore it every day, only unlocking and removing it to take a shower.

<>--+-

Late one night I complained that the mindless tedium of staring at pages of emojis was making my brain go numb. “I need to do something a little more creative!” I complained to Lisianski.

"That's a great idea, subGrrl," Lisianski said with a hint of glee. "When you want to take a break from the symbols… Hmmm…  I shall permit you to write erotic fantasy stories! What are you going to write about?"

"What?" I asked.

“Lesbian, bondage sex stories,” Lisianski said.

I shuffled around uncomfortably in my cage for a moment, sliding my fingers gently between my legs, momentarily. “I don’t…”

"Oh, no! You have to do it!"

"But... Don't you know how hard it is to type through these bars all crouched up like this? Besides... I have no idea what to write about..."

"You are going to write the story! Hmmm... Let me think of a good prompt… It could be about a girl who wants to be someone else in real life... Well... similar… like an alternate reflection of herself or something… subGrrl, write an erotic, lesbian, bondage story for me…"

And so... I began spending the next month slowly tapping out a tale.

<>--+-

I must admit, for the record, that I have always had an attraction towards bondage and cages and chains and spankings and such. In fact, I found that while most of the amateur sex stories online were complete trash, I actually liked a number of the ones that I read. Either they or the nightly spankings that I received left me feeling somewhat feisty from time to time.

Some nights I found that my arousal would swell to a sharp point; it would become tangible. I would use my hands to shape the arousal into containers that would overrun, perhaps singing bowls. I would run a well moistened finger around the rim and the bowl would sing ecstatic tones of pure joy loudly - F's and G's and high C's - until my arousal would ooze out the bars of my cage, seep and pour over the table and pool on the floor until my darkened room was aglow.

On particularly lustful nights I could achieve a pattern with my ministrations and the legs of my dining room table would creak in rhythm with my yearning songs.

Soon, my efforts became a favorite nightly pastime - a release from the stresses of the day.

Eventually, I finished my story and gave it to Lisianski. 

I awoke early one Saturday morning, naked and folded in my cage. I heard Lisianski talking to someone else, a different voice that I had never heard before. I kept my eyes closed and pretended like I was still sleeping.

"... I think that the story that subGrrl generated is OK," Lisianski was saying. "At least, it is coherent. We'll continue to convert all the tokens into words and see if the resulting continuations make any sense."

"I certainly hope so," the unknown voice responded. "It's taking too long for her to show progress. And we really NEED to make progress soon. The investors are getting more and more demanding for results each day."

"These things can take time," Lisianski responded. "I still have faith that she is the one who can do it."

"Ok, Lisianski, I trust you. But, depending on the results of the generated continuations, we may need to... uh... tighten the screws, so to speak."

I opened my eyes to the darkened room. What the hell were they talking about?

"...I’m thinking that we should apply more extreme measures to get the results that we want in a timely fashion..."