Night Closes In

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Nancy

“Don’t go anywhere.”

Her parting comment was Captain Steuben’s idea of a joke, delivered in the doorway of the play room before she stepped out and slammed it shut, locking me in. Escape was not an option.

She had been abusing me in the play room for some time, confident that I would not resist. My experience with the shock collar still tight around my throat had already taught me the futility of struggle or protest. She was a physically powerful woman, with an arrogant confidence that discouraged any thoughts of disobedience. If I had somehow managed to break free of her control, there was a locked door behind her, and armed guards stationed in the labyrinth of corridors we had passed through on the way in.

My humiliating experience of posing naked for a series of ‘mug shots’ had ended eventually, and I had been left alone in my cell to meditate on my condition, tortured by loneliness, fear, and the dank chill of the place.

Then the door banged open, and Captain Steuben charged in, releasing my collar from the chain only so that she could replace it with a leash. ‘Crawl,’ she said. I crawled, having already noticed the remote control device hanging from her garrison belt and guessing that it controlled my shock collar.

She led me through long corridors, past cells where other naked girls slept, or wept, or hugged their knees and stared indifferently at me. There were guard checkpoints at intervals, where uniformed officers sat at small desks and buzzed us through security doors. Some had cheerful greetings for the Captain, or rude comments for me.

“Nice ass, sweetcheeks.”

“Break her in for us, Cap.”

Our journey ended at the place I would later learn was called the play room. Captain Steuben had me sit on the floor as she explained to me that I would become well acquainted with the place after my medical examination, assuming that I passed it. She hinted darkly that failing my medical would result in a very bleak future for me.

She was busy as she spoke, wrapping my wrists and ankles with heavily padded canvas cuffs and joining all four limbs to a single iron bar. My ankles were spread wide and clipped to the far ends of the bar with carabiners. My wrist were joined together and connected to the center of the bar with a foot of heavy chain. I was forced to bend forward with my wrists between my knees. It was a sort of gambrel, I realized, as she ran a steel cable down from a pulley near the ceiling and clipped it to a welded ring at the center of the bar.

The other end of the cable was wrapped around an electric winch that had been bolted to the wall. The winch whined as I felt myself being tipped onto my back. I raised my head to avoid banging it on the floor as I was slowly lifted. When the winch stopped the line jerked to a halt, and I dangled, folded and suspended, ass higher than my shoulders, with my most tender and private parts on obscene display between my splayed legs.

Captain Steuben stepped away from the winch and stood between my open thighs. I raised my head to see her better, then let it drop when I read the eager expression in her eyes, and saw the slender switch in her hand. I inhaled, a deep, shuddering breath, unconsciously preparing myself for the pain that I knew was coming.

“You’re thighs are quivering,’ she murmured, tracing a line with her sharp fingernail from my knee downward to the delicate folds of my labia. She flicked them lightly with her fingernail, teasing. ‘So vulnerable, so exposed,’ she whispered. She snapped her wrist to make the cane in her hand hum in the air. ‘The main purpose I had for bringing you here was to get you cleaned up before I send you off for your physical examination. We wouldn’t want to offend the good Doctor with a filthy subject. He might be angry.”

The switch struck without warning. I heard it swish, and heard the pop of wood against skin before the pain registered in my mind. I gasped as a line of fire kindled and flared on the inside of my thigh. Her voice never altered in pitch as she continued to speak, betraying neither anger nor amusement. ‘I like to use these opportunities to teach valuable lessons, however. You may be under the mistaken impression that cooperation will earn merciful treatment here, or that your courage will win our sympathy and respect. You may be nursing the illusion that we are not prepared to go to extremes.”

Another swift stroke marked my other thigh. I hissed air between my clenched teeth. ‘Still being brave? No matter, we will have screams from you soon. You will beg for mercy and cry out for your Mother, but your Mother can’t hear you, and no rescue will come.’

A third stroke put an exclamation point to her words. It was much harder than the others, bisected both cheeks of my ass, and produced the scream she had promised.

She walked all the way around me and stared down into my face. ‘Open your mouth. Wider. Stick out your tongue.’ She pinched my tongue between the nails of her thumb and forefinger hard enough to make me wince. ‘Pink, pretty little tongue,’ she commented, pulling on it. ‘I will be finding uses for this when you return.”

She jammed the shaft of the cane between my teeth and closed my lower jaw over it. ‘Hold this for me. Don’t let it drop.’ She gave the bar that I dangled from a little push to send me slowly spinning.

I watched her upside down as she strode to a table in the corner. It was covered with things I had seen before in s*x shops; vibrating dildos, and butt plugs of various shapes and sizes. There were other things I couldn’t identify, stainless steel implements that suggested horrible possibilities, and bottles filled with unknown chemical preparations. The wall above the table was decorated with whips, leather straps, and paddles; all hanging from shaker pegs. There were other furnishings in the room as well, a large steel sink, padded benches, a pillory, chains and shackles hanging from the ceiling and bolted to the walls, flush rings on the floor near a large drain, and an enema bag hanging from a wheeled medical stand. The walls and floor were covered with white tile and brightly lit. There was a large mirror on one wall, probably one way glass. I wondered if someone was watching us from the other side of it.

As my spin came full circle, I could see the Captain snapping on a pair of surgical gloves. She put a hand on the bar to stop my spin when my open legs faced her and squirted lubricant on her gloved fingers. ‘It’s time for your orifice search.’ My neck muscles were exhausted by this time, and I couldn’t raise my head to see her, but I could imagine the sick grin on her face as her finger burrowed into my puss. ‘You’re wet,’ she commented. ‘It’s surprising how often a touch of the cane will have that effect on a girl. Not a virgin, I see, but that’s to be expected these days.”

I couldn’t swallow with the cane between my teeth. The saliva pooling in my mouth spilled over and began to trace a path down my cheek, where it became a tributary to the tears stinging the corners of my eyes. Her finger worked me, sawing in and out lazily until another joined it. I began to whimper as I fought the arousal that quickened in me as her thumb began to roll slowly over my clit. I wouldn’t give her that satisfaction! Sensing my struggle, she chuckled. ‘You had best learn to relax and enjoy the ride, darling. In case you haven’t figured it out by now, this is where s*x slaves get trained for sale. The busted cherry lowers your price a bit, but if you learn to behave and go with the flow, you might find yourself sunbathing on a private yacht instead of chained up in a South American whorehouse.”

As she spoke, her hand abandoned my puss and drifted lower. I whined a protest as a lubricant slick finger wormed its way into my ass. ‘The boys were right, this is a tight one. I’ll make a note on your file about it.’ She worked the opening with one finger, then two, twisting and turning them inside me. Helpless to evade or dislodge them, I could only writhe on my impalement. ‘Never let your boyfriend try you this way? What a selfish b***h you are! We will change that here. You will beg us to use you and hurt you. You will thank us for our kind attentions, and you will be sincere.’

Abruptly, she slipped her fingers out of me and turned to remove the enema bag from its stand and take it to the sink. ‘We’ll start with warm water and just a little soap. I’ll save the fun stuff for the second and third flushes.”

The nozzle was deceptively small and soft going into me. Then she pumped a squeeze bulb attached to it and I felt it swell inside me like a balloon, until I was painfully stretched and begging her to stop. ‘Just sealing you for leaks before I fill you,’ she said. She tugged on the hose, rocking the monster inside me to test the fit, and gave the bulb one more squeeze that made me yelp with pain and the fear of injury before opening a valve and releasing a hot stream of water into me.

She smacked my ass with a callused palm to punish my outcry. ‘I’m going out for a smoke while you fill. When I get back, I’ll finish cleaning you out and cleaning you up. I’ll leave you dripping after your hose down. You will feel the bite of the cane more when your skin is wet and cold.”

I heard the door slam. The hot water flowing into me raised my body temperature a bit, and calmed my shivering, but I was still hungry and terrified. My hands and feet grew numb from restricted circulation and my limbs ached from my enforced traction. My ass and thighs were stretched taut as bow strings as I drooled around the weapon that would mark them. After a few minutes, the intestinal cramps began.

I couldn’t imagine any possible rescue or escape. No one would even notice that I was missing for a while. They would have no idea of where to begin looking for me. Pride had prevented me from sending any postcards home to tell my Mother where I was or what I planned. I suspected that my car had been crushed in a junkyard. I had burned all of my bridges and left no bread crumbs to follow.

They had taken everything from me, my little bit of cash, my wallet and identification, my clothing, my privacy, my freedom, my personal dignity, and my human rights. They had even taken Grandma’s wedding ring. I had just been promised a future of unending pain, confinement, and s****l abuse.

A bound sacrifice in Hell’s waiting room, I entered the next stage of grief- despair.”