No Matter What You Do, Don’t Call The Number On The Wall Of The Bar Bathroom

Jenny descended the stairs from the second floor with a cattle prod in her hand and press the prongs against my leg before shouting, “Bad boy! BAD BAD BAD BAD BOY! BACK IN THE CAGE!”

It was almost two months before I was moved upstairs again. The girls ramped up the sadism from that point on. Dani went from playful and cheerful as she interacted with me to taking great delight in shocking me whenever she saw fit. Likewise, Jenny and Candi were equally cruel. Despite spending most of my time working out and trying to get stronger, I was no match for three sadists with control of shock collar that seemed to watch me around the clock.

It had been six months of captivity before Jenny led me upstairs. I was told to disrobe. I complied. I was told to lay down on the table. I complied. I didn’t have much fight left in me and frankly I was more than a little afraid of how they would respond if I didn’t obey them completely. At one point in my confinement, Candice thought it would be hilarious to spend a week repeatedly hitting me in the testicles with a rubber mallet. At another point Jenny thought it would be rather entertaining to hit me with pepper spray twice daily for almost two weeks. Neither of them could even compare to the horrors Dani subjected me to. For my own sanity’s sake, I won’t describe it.

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