Tanya's Toy (Book 2)

Colleen wept for a long time, the tears trickling down her cheeks, but she had no hands to wipe them away with. As was usual for this slave girl, she was locked into her cell, a prison cell complete with steel bars and a massive lock, bare concrete floor and a small bed with thin mattress only, naked and with her hands locked in steel handcuffs behind her back.

It just was not fair, her mind kept repeating; just not fair at all.

Hours of silence and isolation passed. The tears dried up, as tears always do, but the depression weighing heavily upon her soul remained. She found no comfort on the hard mattress, nor could she manage any thoughts that were not desolate as she faced a fearful future of pain and suffering.

Originally, she had sold herself into a year’s service as a slave. That had included all the trimmings, restraints, punishments and, of course, sexual abuse. But that year had ended and instead of being given her freedom, she was sold to another owner, one who intended on keeping her a slave for the rest of her life.

It just wasn’t fair!

Why, she asked herself silently, did some people gain satisfaction from hurting others? Was it sexual? Or something more? But whatever the reason, it was her body that was being abused for the pleasure of a sadistic and vindictive woman.

The slightly footstep alerted her. Carla, the Latina serving girl, was standing there, a tray of food in her hands as she looked down upon the naked young woman. Her dark eyes showed signs of having wept tears as well, and her mouth was downturned.

“I have your food,” she said meekly.

“I’m not hungry,” was Colleen’s reply.

“You must eat.”

“Why? Better that I starve to death than face a lifetime of being Mistress’ slave.”

Carla set the tray down and knelt down to take the bars in her small brown hands. “You must eat,” she repeated.

“Why? So I can keep my strength up for Mistress’ punishments? So I can scream loudly when she whips me? So I can thrash around when she hurts me?”

Carla had no answer to those questions. She was aware that everything this woman said was true.

Both were silent for long moments.

“Is it true?” Colleen finally asked. “Is Master... Richard dead?”

“It is so.” There was obvious grief painted across her face. “Dios tenga en su gloria.”

Carla pushed the tray through the slot in the door and left it setting on the floor. “I am sorry for you. Mistress is bad. She will hurt you much.”

Colleen looked up to stare hard into the girl’s eyes. “Will you help me escape?” she asked earnestly.

“Oh, no, senorita, I cannot! Mistress would punishment me muy mal.”

“We can both escape,” Colleen added eagerly. “We can get far away from here. The police will help us. They’ll arrest Mistress Connie.”

Carla was shaking her head. “No! She would catch us. Hurt us very much.”

“But if we go to the police, they can help.”

“They will not arrest her,” Carla said. “She has not, how you say, break the law.”

“She’s holding me a prisoner against my will!” Colleen protested.

“She said that she has a paper you signed saying that you are being a slave because you want to.”

“That was with Master Richard. And it was supposed to be for only one year.” Colleen took in a deep breath. “I would serve him for one year in exchange for him paying for a operation my mother needed very badly. Only one year.”

Carla shook her head again. “That year is not up.”

“But Richard is dead! I should be free of the contract.”

“Is not so. Mistress said it. She would show that paper to the police and they would do nothing.”

“But she’s going to keep me forever! She told me she would never let me go.”

Looking like she was about to burst out in tears, Carla just shook her head sadly.

“Damn! It just isn’t fair,” Colleen repeated. “She can’t keep me a prisoner against my will.”

Carla rose to her feet and sniffed. “I will leave the food. You should eat.” Then she left.

Colleen stared at the tray and could smell the food. Her stomach ached for she had not eaten in over twenty-four hours. Slowly she rose from the bed and shifted down to kneel on the floor. The concrete was hard against her bare knees. For a long time she toyed with the idea of trying to starve herself to death. It should be possible. Maybe. But, depressed as she was, there was still a little part of her mind that fought back. Against logic, it told her that she should eat to keep her strength up. Mistress Connie will sooner or later make a mistake and she would have to be ready and able to take advantage of it.

Bending over, she began eating the cut up food with her mouth only. Not long before, it had been the custom for her hands to be locked in front of her, which made eating much easier. But she was caught masturbating – a sin considering that Mistress wanted her to have no pleasure of any kind – and since then her hands were locked behind her back when she was left alone. A short chain was locked to those handcuffs and up to a steel collar around her neck. That chain kept her from stepping through her arms to bring her hands up in front or reaching around to try and touch herself.

She ate the food and drank the water through a straw, and told herself that she was doing the right thing. Someday her cruel Mistress would make a mistake. Someday.

Carla came for the tray later, hurriedly taking it away. Before she left, she whispered to Colleen, “Be ready. She’s coming.”

The food in Colleen’s stomach turned into a brick when she saw Mistress Connie standing in the doorway, black leather cat-suited, high heel booted, and grinning evilly as she tapped a riding crop against her palm.

Pain time!

Chapter 1: One Depressed Slave Girl

Colleen wept for a long time, the tears trickling down her cheeks, but she had no hands to wipe them away with. As was usual for this slave girl, she was locked into her cell, a prison cell complete with steel bars and a massive lock, bare concrete floor and a small bed with thin mattress only, naked and with her hands locked in steel handcuffs behind her back.

It just was not fair, her mind kept repeating; just not fair at all.

Hours of silence and isolation passed. The tears dried up, as tears always do, but the depression weighing heavily upon her soul remained. She found no comfort on the hard mattress, nor could she manage any thoughts that were not desolate as she faced a fearful future of pain and suffering.

Originally, she had sold herself into a year’s service as a slave. That had included all the trimmings, restraints, punishments and, of course, sexual abuse. But that year had ended and instead of being given her freedom, she was sold to another owner, one who intended on keeping her a slave for the rest of her life.

It just wasn’t fair!

Why, she asked herself silently, did some people gain satisfaction from hurting others? Was it sexual? Or something more? But whatever the reason, it was her body that was being abused for the pleasure of a sadistic and vindictive woman.

The slightly footstep alerted her. Carla, the Latina serving girl, was standing there, a tray of food in her hands as she looked down upon the naked young woman. Her dark eyes showed signs of having wept tears as well, and her mouth was downturned.

“I have your food,” she said meekly.

“I’m not hungry,” was Colleen’s reply.

“You must eat.”

“Why? Better that I starve to death than face a lifetime of being Mistress’ slave.”

Carla set the tray down and knelt down to take the bars in her small brown hands. “You must eat,” she repeated.

“Why? So I can keep my strength up for Mistress’ punishments? So I can scream loudly when she whips me? So I can thrash around when she hurts me?”

Carla had no answer to those questions. She was aware that everything this woman said was true.

Both were silent for long moments.

“Is it true?” Colleen finally asked. “Is Master... Richard dead?”

“It is so.” There was obvious grief painted across her face. “Dios tenga en su gloria.”

Carla pushed the tray through the slot in the door and left it setting on the floor. “I am sorry for you. Mistress is bad. She will hurt you much.”

Colleen looked up to stare hard into the girl’s eyes. “Will you help me escape?” she asked earnestly.

“Oh, no, senorita, I cannot! Mistress would punishment me muy mal.”

“We can both escape,” Colleen added eagerly. “We can get far away from here. The police will help us. They’ll arrest Mistress Connie.”

Carla was shaking her head. “No! She would catch us. Hurt us very much.”

“But if we go to the police, they can help.”

“They will not arrest her,” Carla said. “She has not, how you say, break the law.”

“She’s holding me a prisoner against my will!” Colleen protested.

“She said that she has a paper you signed saying that you are being a slave because you want to.”

“That was with Master Richard. And it was supposed to be for only one year.” Colleen took in a deep breath. “I would serve him for one year in exchange for him paying for a operation my mother needed very badly. Only one year.”

Carla shook her head again. “That year is not up.”

“But Richard is dead! I should be free of the contract.”

“Is not so. Mistress said it. She would show that paper to the police and they would do nothing.”

“But she’s going to keep me forever! She told me she would never let me go.”

Looking like she was about to burst out in tears, Carla just shook her head sadly.

“Damn! It just isn’t fair,” Colleen repeated. “She can’t keep me a prisoner against my will.”

Carla rose to her feet and sniffed. “I will leave the food. You should eat.” Then she left.

Colleen stared at the tray and could smell the food. Her stomach ached for she had not eaten in over twenty-four hours. Slowly she rose from the bed and shifted down to kneel on the floor. The concrete was hard against her bare knees. For a long time she toyed with the idea of trying to starve herself to death. It should be possible. Maybe. But, depressed as she was, there was still a little part of her mind that fought back. Against logic, it told her that she should eat to keep her strength up. Mistress Connie will sooner or later make a mistake and she would have to be ready and able to take advantage of it.

Bending over, she began eating the cut up food with her mouth only. Not long before, it had been the custom for her hands to be locked in front of her, which made eating much easier. But she was caught masturbating – a sin considering that Mistress wanted her to have no pleasure of any kind – and since then her hands were locked behind her back when she was left alone. A short chain was locked to those handcuffs and up to a steel collar around her neck. That chain kept her from stepping through her arms to bring her hands up in front or reaching around to try and touch herself.

She ate the food and drank the water through a straw, and told herself that she was doing the right thing. Someday her cruel Mistress would make a mistake. Someday.

Carla came for the tray later, hurriedly taking it away. Before she left, she whispered to Colleen, “Be ready. She’s coming.”

The food in Colleen’s stomach turned into a brick when she saw Mistress Connie standing in the doorway, black leather cat-suited, high heel booted, and grinning evilly as she tapped a riding crop against her palm.

Pain time!