The Laysan Flower Cage

Thread 1, Part 8
Laysan

The Laysan Flower Cage

(here) - recently

The rest of the day seemed to revolve around figuring out how to take care of me for the next month. Apparently, Paty planned to have someone watching me all day every day. She explained to me that she wanted to make sure that I was always safe. Also, she said that she didn't want me to get bored or listless. My "experiment" was meant to be a quest of discovery. She did not want me to feel left out or simply invisible.

And so, during the rest of the day, a number of Paty's special friends stopped by to see me in my chains and to commit to spend some time with me over the next month during times when Paty would be busy otherwise. Alba, Corwin, and another friend, 2'Ahlay, seemed to be in charge of standardizing rules and best practices for handling my daily affairs.



(I should note at this point that 2'Ahlay is pronounced, basically, as you would think: two-ah-lay. Her real name is Waialeale. It is a Hawaiian name apparently meaning flowing water or something... Regardless, it is quite a mouthful. For a long time we simply called her Ale (pronounced ah-lay, not 'ail'). Eventually, someone sagely noted that we were ripping her off an entire Ale, and so, we started calling her 2'Ahlay, and it stuck. Ah! Nicknames! I have no idea how one would spell 2'Ahlay, or if anyone has ever tried. So, this spelling is totally my creation. Anyways...)

Bound as I was I could do nothing for myself. Nothing! I cannot describe how embarrassing it is to need for someone else to wipe your ass. Regardless, it is just another humiliation that I would get used to over the next month. Luckily, we had a bidet, but that only goes so far...

Also, that morning, as I showered Corwin and 2'Ahlay watched as Alba and Paty jumped in, naked, with me. I'm sad to say it ranks as one of the least erotically charged shared showers I have ever experienced. Although it was nice to have two sets of hands massaging my scalp as they scrubbed shampoo and conditioner into my tangled mass of dark hair.

After I had been dried they led me to the kitchen where Ceylon showed them how to feed me my liquid diet. Ceylon provided a number of bottles equipped with a pointy straw thing that could be inserted into a slot in my gag through the space that had been vacated by my stolen molars. Then, I simply had to suck the contents down. I couldn't really taste anything as the flow of food bypassed all my taste buds. Ceylon, warned me not to drink to fast. If I were to start choking and coughing, the contents would likely end up spewing out my nose. The women took turns examining how the system worked. I almost felt like a horse at a show as they all peeled back my lips to look inside.

I felt the full impact of my mouth bondage later in the day when plates of food were brought out for the ever growing collection of visitors. I wasn't hungry at the time, but still the food smelled wonderful. I would not be eating any of it... for a long time.

Late in the afternoon, Alba led me into one of the sitting rooms. A padded table was set up. Crouching next to the table was a strange woman with straight black hair and pale skin - perhaps of some Eastern European descent. She wore a plain pale blue peasant dress. If she wore underpants, then that was the only other garment as her boobs were obviously unencumbered. Perhaps that is an odd observation for me, the Queen of Dis-clothed, to notice. But, her lack of garments was not her most striking feature. She also wore heavy, black metal shackles on her wrists, ankles, and neck.

In all my time with Paty, I have never met another individual through Paty's friends immersed in any way into my  alternative bondage lifestyle. So, I was quite surprised.

As we entered the room, she stood up quietly and bowed her head a little. Her shackles looked quite heavy. I could only imagine that they were uncomfortable. I saw marks on her skin around the metal's periphery. The marks were not fresh. They seemed to be scars of some sort, perhaps from years of metal rubbing and staining her flesh. It made me wonder how long she had been wearing the shackles. I looked at her collar and then wrist cuffs searching for a padlock or a keyhole or a hinge, but I couldn't find any.

Who the hell was this woman? I started to get nervous. What the hell have I gotten myself into? Was I looking upon my future? To be permanently arrayed in metal?

I looked up at Alba, who still had my leash hanging from her hand. I pointed at the woman with my eyes and shrugged my shoulders.

"Oh, yeah... Laysan, this is KaMoi. Uh... I don't think that is her original name, but that is what 2'Ahlay calls her. She's doesn't really talk much... either. I'm not even sure if she understands English. But, she gives an awesome massage. Paty wants to make sure that you are as comfortable as possible even with your elbow restraints, so, KaMoi will be giving you a massage regularly over the next month."

I glanced at the woman who still had her head bent in a way to hide her eyes behind her hair. I noticed her shackles had numerous D-rings. Based on the worn appearance, they seemed to have been used extensively.

Alba helped me up onto the padded table. I sat somewhat tensely as KaMoi started rubbing scented oils into my shoulders and biceps. She worked on me for perhaps a half hour. Certainly, she was skilled. Her strong hands eased knots that had formed over the course of the day due to my unnatural position.

Still, I probably ruined half her efforts due to my nervousness. I tried to read her feelings. She held a sadness within her obviously. But, there also seemed to be something missing from her. It seemed as though some part of her soul was missing. Did 2'Ahlay do this to her? 2'Ahlay seemed like a nice person, but what did I really know about her?

It was the quietest massage I have ever experienced.

By the evening, even more of Paty's special friends had arrived, Gardner, Cooper, even Brooke had some. Each greeted me with a gentle kiss on the cheek. Soon, Paty, Alba, and Ceylon led me away from the library where all the women were congregating. They took me down the long hall to Paty's room.

As we entered, my eyes were immediately drawn to a new structure that had been constructed in the far corner from the bed. One glance at the gleaming chain and metal fixtures and black leather padding and I knew that this was another of Ceylon's creations. Another bondage work of art awaiting it's final component to complete the masterpiece, me. Shit!

I don't even know if I have the descriptive capacity to describe how this thing worked, but I will try. A heavy chain had been securely bolted into structural beams above the ceiling. Even now I could still smell fresh paint from where the ceiling had been repaired. The chain with thick wide links descended from the ceiling to a height of about three meters where it was terminated by the pointy end of a leather padded cone of some sort. The cone was perhaps about a half meter long and flared out substantially towards the bottom. A platform or I guess it actually looked like a particularly big-seated bar stool stood underneath this free-swinging cone. The top of the seat was probably more than a meter in diameter. The seat was supported by a sturdy central metal column. Also an array of metal bars descended from anchor points around the circumference of the seat down to the floor.

Using a decorative step ladder, Alba and Ceylon guided me up onto the seat where I was instructed to kneel. They clipped the end of my leash onto an eyelet drilled into the bottom of the base of the cone directly over me.

At this time all of Paty's special friends began to file into the bedroom to see my new perch.

"I'm calling this new device a Laysan Flower Cage," Ceylon announced to the women. "Let me show you how it works! First, I need to rotate each of these metal bars up so that its top rests upon this cone here."

Each of the bars that were anchored to the periphery of the seat were attached with hinges of some sort. Ceylon began to methodically move around the seat swinging each metal bar up so that they began to close around me like petals of a flower. In their upright position, each bar rose from the seat straight up for a while. But somewhere suitably higher than my head the bars curved inwards until the bar rested somewhere near the top of the cone over me, and then they curved quickly back out to form a hook. As more and more bars were raised around me the bottle-like shape of the cage became more apparent.

Ceylon then adjusted the step ladder to make it taller and climbed up so that she could reach the chain hanging from the ceiling.

"This metal sheath that you see wrapped around the chain here can be raised up and down along the length of the chain by spinning this wheel. There are gears inside the sheath with teeth that precisely match the shape and size of the links of this chain. As you can see, attached to this sheath with four very strong chains is this heavy ring of metal."

The ring that Ceylon was indicating hung down from the sheath. It was perhaps a little less than a half meter in diameter. The four chains held the ring so that its diameter was parallel to the floor. Ceylon reached up to the wheel embedded in the side of the sheath. As she spun the wheel, the sheath and attached ring began to descend down the length of the overhead chain. Slowly, the ring slipped down around the cone and past the place where the hook ends of all the metal bars of my cage rested. Ceylon slid a large metal pin through a slot to prevent the sheath from moving anymore and climbed down from the step ladder.

Ceylon then adjusted something underneath my platform along the sturdy base. "Next, I can lower Laysan's cage. This stand works just like a car jack." Sure enough, I felt my self being lowered slowly.

"As the cage gets lower, you'll notice that the hooks at the top ends of each bar are being pushed out by the flair of the cone against which they rest." Above me I heard the sound of metal parts touching together. "...And, as the hooks are pushed outwards, they are no longer able to fit through the diameter of the metal ring. In fact, as you can see the hook end of each bar is now settling down around the ring. In fact..." Ceylon turned the stand's jack a few more times. "...now the cage is suspended by the overhead chain." Ceylon fiddled with the platform's stand for a moment - somehow disconnecting it. Indeed, she stepped away from where I hung in my cage with the stand in her hands.

"Et voila! Our pretty bird is locked in a doorless cage."

I looked up briefly at all the women in the room, my view occulted periodically by steel bars. This was a pattern that persisted no matter which direction I looked. I turned my eyes to the pad upon which I knelt as an escape from all the faces in the room. Doing so, unfortunately, only brought to focus my heaving chest as I struggled to breathe. I am not excessively endowed. My breasts are average sized, I guess. But, with my elbows pulled back, they seemed to take up more space than they should accented by my nipples, erect from physical excitation. With each gasp of air they moved out even further. I tried to breathe slowly but, that made me start to feel faint. I tried to take a few deep breaths to catch up, but that did not help either. Finally, in exasperation, I shook my head so that my long hair fell off my shoulder, covered my face, and hung over my chest.

By this time all the women were milling about in Paty's room - taking turns to walk past my cage and say innocent little things like "pretty, little slave" and "Laysan is so beautiful" and "the luckiest pet". Things that would not be said to me if I was walking around the room with them. Things that set me apart as something other than one-of-the-gang. I was a museum piece.

Someone reached into the cage from behind and pulled my hair back out of my face and tucked it behind an ear. I closed my eyes. A small tear trickled down my cheek.

"Poor, little pet," someone whispered. "You're safe."

I felt the cage jiggling a little and, so, opened my eyes just enough to see McNear foolishly attempting to bend the bars of my cell. "Nope. She's not going to get out that way," McNear said.

Of course, they are not going to bend. But, still, her demonstration gave proof to the truth that without the stand and the jack to raise it, there would be no way to get me out of the cage.

I did my best to remain as motionless as a museum piece should. But every once in a while someone would reach into my cage and graze my heated flesh causing me to twitch and jump. My skin was flush with blood, every cell of my body screaming for more. The friction of my desire was coursing through every pore and passage, through every vision of my mind's eye, through every wisp of my soul.

By the time I could once again sense anything beyond the boil of my libido, I realized that the room was quiet. Indeed, when I opened my eyes, I was alone in Paty's room. The lights were dim. I looked around me as best as I could. With my arms locked behind me, I could barely move at all in my small space inside the cold steel cage. The bars were so close and so constant in every direction. There was no door. The illusion that there was no way out was so effective, that when I considered my position in any detail, I began to shudder and whimper. That was about the only freedom left for me.

Paty, where are you? I wanted her so bad. I wanted her to hold me and love me. I felt so alone trussed up in my cage. I began to think of people who suffered strokes and were unable to talk. Sometimes you see them out and about. They are unable to participate in conversations.  Sometimes they are left inside their own quiet worlds as a party goes on around them. Is that to be my fate? Will I be forgotten? Will my care be an afterthought? Would my maintenance become another annoying nuisance in the routine of Paty's day?

Or maybe I am just a pet. Maybe this month will be Paty's holiday and I will be forgotten in a kennel until she is ready to return. Maybe she will be off to explore greater things until she once again needs the comfort of my unconditional love. I will sit here staring at the bars around me wishing for time to pass as quickly as possible.

Please, Paty, don't forget me! Please!



Paty, Alba, and Ceylon retrieved me from my birdcage after an hour or two of solitude. They fed me, brushed my teeth, and prepared me for the night. They had decided that I would no longer sleep in my closet. Instead I would spend every night in my cage in the dungeon that can be raised high into the dark shadows of the room - a place that we refer to as purgatory. Thankfully, they removed the elbow chains prior to installing me in my cage. Also, they moved my hands so they were cuffed in front of me. That simple act alone, ironically, made me feel so free. Oh! To stretch! So nice!

They had equipped my cage with a tablet computer. There was an App that I could use in the case that I was in distress. If I launched the App an array of alarms would go off to a variety of people who would attend to me immediately. Although, I was warned that if I used the App and was not in distress, there would be repercussions.




And so began my month as a pet.