A Thief Gets Punished

I was too tired to fight anymore.

After he finished tickling me, my captor undid my ropes and took me to my cot. I didn't bother fighting. I was too tired. The tickling, my arms, and my uncomprehensible rage had burned me out. He gently laid me on the cot, and I lay there on my side, sobbing.

I knew the nuns were staring at me. I couldn't care. I faced away from them. It was so humiliating; I was just some naughty, punished creature. They saw me at my absolute lowest.

Thoughts of my punishments kept flowing through my head. Every tickling session, leaving me begging for mercy. Every spanking, leaving my ass red raw. I was stuck like this! There was no way out!

Later, as it got dark, my captor came over and fed me. It was humiliating; I was on my knees, still being fed by hand even though my arms were free. The nuns giggled as they watched. They must have thought I was well-trained, as opposed to knowing that the pitons left me with no escape. Maybe I

am

well-trained.

He then got me to stand and lift my arms, and he applied the cream. I swallowed my rage at the damned tittering of the nuns, pushing it aside with heroic strength. As he massaged it into my breasts, a single thought popped into my head: what could I have done to avoid this?

No.

No

. This was not my fault. Push any thought like that away.

After he was done - skipping over my butt, of course - he left me alone. I laid down, my thoughts swimming through my head. I heard the nuns talking to each other quietly; their mistress told them to leave me alone.

I certainly felt alone.

They eventually packed up and went to sleep. I slowly drifted off myself.

I was woken by a tremendous clattering.

I looked up, bleary-eyed. A nun was laying on the ground in simple pyjamas. They covered nearly her entire body, from neck to her feet. One of the pitons was next to her. She moaned - it was Jemima, the first girl to talk to me.

"JEMIMA!" yelled the head mistress. It sent a chill through my spine, and I saw every single girl's head pop up at the sound of it. "Did you interfere with the ENF's bed?!"

I saw my captor rise from his bed. It was less as if he were standing and more as if some supernatural force were lifting him up - and for all I knew, it could be. Even knowing he wasn't heading for me, I was filled with a sense of dread.

"I can't move!" cried out Jemima. I saw her wiggle her head.

"You're not supposed to," said my captor. He rolled Jemima over on her side. He took out a knife and cut her pyjamas from the neck to her feet.

"Wha - no! Nooooooooo!"

"You brought this on yourself, Jemima!" said the head mistress, not moving from her bed. "This is what he does for a living!"

He tore off what remained of her clothes. Her body was very thin. Her hair was shoulder length and jet black. Her chest was nearly flat, with very small breasts that barely poked off of her body. The other nuns started giggling.

"No! No! No!" cried Jemima. The Catcher lifted her up. Her body was still obviously limp, and he took advantage of that by tying her arms together behind her back. She wiggled her head, as if that could spread to the rest of her body.

I was in awe of him as he tied her up. He was like a pure expression of will; no thought, never looking away from his goal. He just tied her. Is this the man keeping me trapped in this nightmare? Is this what I'm up against?

When he finished tying her up, he picked her up gently and sat her near a tree. He then tied a rope around her neck, then tied the rope around the tree. When she eventually got the feeling in her legs, she wouldn't be able to run anywhere - not that she'd have anywhere to go.

She wailed. "It's not fair! It's not fair!"

By Gods, is that how I came off? I knew how this girl was feeling, and a new wave of humiliation passed through me. A second-hand embarrassment. Now I could truly see the naked, wailing girl from the outside. And she was me.

The other girls were tittering, but I could see the fear in their eyes. They knew now any one of them could become me or Jemima, if they made the wrong move. Jemima and I were symbols. Naked, bound, humiliated symbols of punishment for error.

"Alright, girls. You've had your show. Go back to sleep."

Everyone quieted down. The Catcher went back to bed. Jemima quietly sulked. I turned over, looking away from her.

I didn't know how I felt now. The rage was gone, and all that was left was a feeling that I was stuck. I didn't know what my future would be like, beyond that I would probably be naked.

I fell asleep.

The next morning, the Catcher woke me up. He fed me and applied my cream as the nuns ate breakfast. Jemima was still tied to the tree, her eyes red raw from crying. The Catcher tied me up and packed up the camp before the nuns finished their breakfast, so I never saw her get untied. In a way, she's still tied to that tree in my mind. I suppose I'm the same to all those people who saw me naked.

He led me through the forest. After a couple of hours, we came to a large building. There was a large stable for horses on the side.

What could this place possibly be?