“There’s a Jerk in a Cage!”

      What would you do if you came to work and found a stranger locked in a cage…?

       What..?  You say that you have no idea…?  

        Well, I had no idea what to do either, but I had to figure it out the other day…

         Someone booked an early appointment with me, so I showed up 45 minutes in advance so that I could get ready (his wardrobe requests were specific and elaborate).  

         I couldn’t get in.  Nobody was there.  I called the front desk repeatedly and then sent text messages to the management.  

          Nothing doing.

          Eventually I was spotted by one of the building’s maintenance workers.  He recognized me and used his keys to let me in through the back door (the Studio has multiple exits and secret doors and passageways.  I’ve rehearsed a few different escape plans in the event of a police raid). 

         It was dark as a mineshaft inside.  I had to use a flashlight app on my phone to find the light switch for the reception area.  Then I put down my bags and worked my way through the rooms, turning on the lights and intercoms and computers.  

        I flipped on the lights in one of the back rooms when a voice came out of nowhere:

          “Hi!  Do you know when Mistress Betsy will get here?”

          Scared! Me! To! Death!  I actually made a little scream and turned in a circle, trying to find where the voice was coming from.  

            “Who’s there?” I asked.

             “Me!  Over here!”

              “Over were?  Who are you?”  I didn’t see anyone.

            “Over here!  Under the table!”

            I bent at the waist and looked underneath the large bondage table.

             There was a man there locked into a heavy-duty dog crate.  He was wearing his clothes except for his shoes and jacket, which were folded and laying on top of the cage.  

           “What the fuck!  Who are you?  What are you doing in there?  What the fuck!”  I yelled.

         “Sorry I scared you!  I’m waiting for Mistress Betsy.  I came early!” 

         “What do you mean, came early?  It’s nine in the morning!  We’re not even open yet!”

          “I came in last night.  I didn’t want to go home.  They said I could stay and wait for her,” he said.

         “How long have you been in there?”

          “Since about 6 AM.  They left me a light and a book, but the batteries went out.”

         So there you have it.   This guy showed up five hours early for his appointment after drinking and doing coke all night.  Some GENIUS locked him in the cage and left him there.  With a book, a magazine from the waiting room, a bottle of water, and a flashlight.

       I have no idea why they left him with reading materials.  He was too high to read.

        “Are you okay?  Do you want out?”  Now I had a dilemma: let him out and be all alone in the dark with a total stranger who obviously had very poor judgement, or keep him in there and be responsible if anything bad happened to him, since I was aware of his presence and didn’t try to help him.  

        He said that he would wait.

        “Do you have any more drugs?”  I didn’t want him to OD in the cage.  What the fuck! 

         He said he didn’t, but who knows?

         I stepped out of the room and started calling the management.  There’s a jerk locked in a cage!  I have no idea who he is!  They left him there!  What do I do with him?  What if he died while unattended?  What if he killed himself?  What if he’s dangerous?  What the fuck!  Which dumbass approved this spectacularly bad decision?

         And on top of that, I was supposed to be getting ready for my session, but I couldn’t do that until I dealt with this problem!

         One of the managers came an hour later.  We let him out.  He was okay and seemed happy.

         Just another day at the office.    

5 thoughts on ““There’s a Jerk in a Cage!””

  1. Dear Miss Margo,

    “I’ve rehearsed a few different escape plans in the event of a police raid.”

    I can’t say I’ve ever done that at a job. In a way it’s romantic, like “The Night They Raided Minsky’s.” Though I am sure that these types of stories are much more entertaining to hear than they are to live through.

    I remember wondering about a raid sometimes when I was tied spread-eagle on a bondage table with my legs up in the air attached to an overhead beam. Sometimes I would wonder about a robbery – maybe a mob feud that involved one faction hitting another’s establishments. Looking back, this probably means I was bored. The Mistress was not keeping my thoughts focused on her depredations. But it was also reality seeping in. I was quite helpless.

    I never sessioned under the influence of drugs. I have heard stories of dommes spending a couple of hours trying to get a coked up client to come. I wonder if Mistress Betsy knew that her morning appointment was spending 5 hours in a cage waiting for her. I would bet that the night shift never even told her.

    I wonder if this guy was enjoying himself in the cage. You could have poked him a few times, threatened him, and then said that he owed an extra $300 for the overnight session. I bet he paid someone on the late shift some money to get put in the cage.


    1. Hi John!

      What I fear most about a police raid isn’t necessarily the arrest, although spending the night in jail and having to hire a lawyer and go to court is a nightmare ordeal and a financial burden that I could definitely live without. I’m fairly confident that I could beat the charges.

      The problem is media scrutiny. When the police raided several dungeons a few years ago, they arrested every woman in the House–even the phone girl–and the NY tabloids published their government names. Charges were dropped against the dommes who fought back…but the internet is forever. I definitely don’t need future employers or family members finding a cheesy, lurid tale of my arrest on the web.

      Moving on: were you the guy in the cage, lol? Because you are correct: Betsy had no idea that her client was there waiting for her, and whoever left him there (management HAD to know) didn’t leave so much as a post-it note explaining his presence.

      It didn’t occur to me to shake him down…my immediate concern was for his well-being and legal liability. Miss Margo, The Responsible Domme, lol.

      He seemed happy as a clam in the cage. No idea what he was doing in there after the flashlight died, because it was so dark that you couldn’t see your own hand five inches in front of your face.

      As always, thanks for reading.


  2. Hi Rick,

    WTF indeed! I usually don’t swear in front of clients or students, but the situation made me irate.

    Oh yeah…slave left unattended in a cage…another fantastic idea from the Superstudio Brain Trust.

    Happily, it all worked out in the end. This time.

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