(In Part 1, our hero, Tim finds himself stranded at the remote hideaway of a trio of abusive women where he is forced to submit to their bidding and humiliation -- having no reasonable means of escape.)
The daily routine of laborious chores and servitude went on for endless weeks since Tim's arrival in Alaska in response to an ad for a "helper." In addition, he was subject to almost daily corporal punishment for any shortcomings in his work or his attitude. The Boss Lady had been correct in warning him about Alex's short temper and propensity to lash out.
Alex was his constant overseer. She not only pushed him along, sometimes with her foot, as he often worked on all fours cleaning floors or picking up after the inveterate carelessness that all three of the women displayed. Sometimes she administered a harsh pinch of his butt, or an exposed area of his arm or the back of his neck.
Can't you do anything right?" she growled angrily, pinching Tim's cheek for failing to notice dust remaining in the corner of her bedroom.
On any given day, Tim was called to the living room where the Boss Lady and Lola were sipping alcoholic beverages. Alex would be asked to report on Tim's "progress' in becoming a better servant. The two more mature women would likely not have any complaints against him until Alex would render her report.
"I know you think Timmy's a good boy, but I have to tell you," Alex complained. I heard him mumbling some disrespectful shit after you had to tell him, like, three times to get another log from outside for the fireplace.
"What?!" exclaimed Boss Lady. "You were mumbling something disrespectful? Is that right?" Tim bowed his head forward. He knew it was useless to defend himself. But he couldn't bring himself to admit or say he was sorry.
"Well, I guess you're going to have to learn a lesson," chimed in Lola enthusiastically. Take your pants down." Knowing there was no way out, Tim obeyed, undoing his belt and pulling his pants down. "The underpants TOO!" Lola said, raising her voice with impatience. He complied.
"Now fold yourself over this chair," she said pointing to a straight-back wooden kitchen chair. "Who wants to start?" she asked of her two compatriots.
"I'm sick of trying to correct him," said Alex. "But you might want to use this," holding a long, wooden hairbrush out to the others, Her mother and Lola.
"I guess I'll have to do the honors," said Lola who stepped behind Tim's bent-over figure. Taking the hairbrush in hand, she stretched her arm way back as a form of wind-up and then brought the flat wooden back of the brush smack against his both buttocks. Tim screamed and took alternate rhythmic steps up and down with his feet while remaining bent over the chair. A few more of these strikes had him howling in pain, crying "sorry, sorry, so, so sorry!"
"You're sorry?" said Lola seemingly unconvinced as she continued raining blows of the brush to his ass. "Well I'm sorry to learn that you've been disrespectful." This kind of scene was repeated so that it became routine.
It was onerous to be sure, but he might have gotten used to the predicament but for two things: First, the captivity of his genitals in the chastity device left his youthful libido unrelieved for an unimaginable weeks duration. Second, his complete entrapment in the deep woods with no means of leaving, left him hopelessly captive unless he wanted to walk off, unarmed and under clothed into a frigid forest full of bears, wolves and the like -- and with no idea of what direction in which to walk.
It served as no consolation that there was the constant presence of three sexually enticing females. Young Alex, either a late adolescent or an early twenty-something brat, served as his overseer, harassing him most of his waking hours with orders and criticisms of his performance at the tasks he was assigned.
Sitting on the porch steps, smoking a joint, Alex watched Tim's every move as he went about washing the muddy SUV that her mother, the "Boss Lady" drove from time to time shopping for supplies. It was the same vehicle in which Boss Lady had picked Tim up from the airport -- it seemed like an eternity ago.
"Can't you do anything right?" Alex asked. "I guess you never even had a car. [This was true.] "Because you're a pathetic loser. Tell me. Did you own a car? Or did your mommy? And did she make you wash it? It looks like you have no idea what you're doing."
With that she arose and walked over to where Tim was wiping a fender and a headlight with a wet rag. Silently he thought "What could she be finding wrong with what I'm doing?".
