Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: Hoop
Title: Incarceration Ch.25
Part: Chapter 25
Summary: Claire receives her "reward" for servicing the clients
previously.
Keywords: FF, bd, sad





   Claire had felt physically ill watching the unconscious Zoe being
carried off, slung over an attendant's shoulder.  The rest of the girls
viewing the torture had showed a variety of reactions: one of the nude
girls had merely looked on with a kind of calm, dead-eyed expression, while
the other fidgeted nervously with her handcuffs.  Pink-haired girl had
curled up in a ball on the floor, completely silent.  Her companion had
stood up, and then returned quickly to her sitting position at the sight of
blue sparks crackling between the prongs of an attendant's shock baton. 
Presumably the others had now been returned to their various cells, or
taken to the next session of whatever torture Helen had devised for them.



   Claire, Emma and Laura had likewise been returned to their cell, and
presently the three of them were sitting side-by-side, against the wall. 
The attendant who escorted them back hadn't removed their restraints,
leaving them tethered together by their collars.  It meant they had to
reach a group consensus about moving anywhere, which wasn't made any easier
by the fact that all three of them remained gagged.



   Laura mumbled something that sounded like a suggestion to lie down, and
they shuffled around to try and re-arrange their circumstances without
accidentally choking each other.  Lying on the floor wasn't much better -
their straitjackets precluded any possibility of repositioning their arms,
making it impossible to assume even a half-comfortable position.  Claire
rolled on to her front, grunting as her forearms pushed against her
sternum. She tried experimentally to push the ball gag out of her mouth
with her tongue, and got tantalizingly close to success before the effort
became too much, and it settled back in place.  She moaned in frustration.



   Her jaw was beginning to ache unbearably when Helen arrived some hours
later.  She pulled Claire into a sitting position and knelt down behind
her, Claire shuddering as she felt the girl's chest against her back, arms
creeping down over her.  Helen hugged her close, and rested her chin on
Claire's shoulder.



   "I said you might get a reward," she said, "if you did a good job this
afternoon.  It turns out there was some nice feedback.  One of the
gentlemen liked you a lot.  Even asked about the possibility of another
session.  A private one."

   Claire whined uneasily.  She wriggled around, trying to loosen the grip
of Helen's arms around her body.

   "Aww, don't be like that," she said.  Claire could feel the girl's
breath against her ear.  "We're not done yet today.  You're going to come
with me now."



   She unfastened the chain on Claire's collar, and pulled her to her feet.




   "Nothing special planned for you two this evening though, I'm afraid."
Helen loosened Laura's ball gag a few notches, enough so that she was able
to push it out of her mouth.  It dropped down to hang around her neck. 
Emma was likewise ungagged, and she winced as she licked the sore corners
of her lips where the strap had dug into them.



   "I guess you'll just have to keep each other company," said Helen.  She
unfastened Laura's chain as well, but only to make the adjustment of
shortening the chain between the two remaining girls - rather than a few
feet of chain between their necks, she decreased it to a few inches.  Just
enough room for them to be face-to-face, or to rest their heads on each
other's shoulders.



   "And now for you," she said.  She led Claire out of the cell.  There was
an exclamation from Laura on the way out - Claire was just able to see the
pair of girls lose their balance as they tried to sit down again and
tumbled over sideways, before the door was closed and she was led off.  She
wished Helen had removed her gag as well.  She tried to make noises to that
effect, but she didn't seem to care.



   A trip in the elevator brought them to a less-familiar floor - Claire
thought she recognised it as the same place where they had been brought to
milk the girl whose number was 212.  They went further down the corridor
this time, turning a few corners before halting outside a dark, wooden
door, bearing the name "Stanford, H."

   "Lucky you," said Helen.  "Normally it's a lot longer before one of the
girls gets to see my own room."



   She held up a card to a scanner on the wall, and the latch clicked open
with the accompanying flicker of a green LED.  As she pushed open the door,
there was the faint suggestion of a sound from inside - something like a
gasp, and a rustle of fabric.



   There was a girl in the room, wearing only her undergarments, and
kneeling on a rug at the foot of a double bed with immaculately clean,
white covers.  There were a few wrinkles surrounding a faint depression on
one edge.  Helen closed the door with a click, and went to stand over the
girl, arms folded.  The girl gazed down at the floor, biting her lip. 
Getting a closer look at her, Claire could see it was number 212, her
auburn hair tied into pigtails with white ribbons.



   "I thought I told you to stay kneeling in that spot," said Helen, her
every word enunciated with cold precision.  "And yet, what's this?" she
said, flattening her palm against the wrinkled spot on the bed covers.  "I
could almost swear that it's a little warm here.  As if somebody had been
sitting on it."

   "I'm sorry mistress, I-"

   "Did I give you permission to speak?" she snapped.

   212 shook her head vigorously, eyes scrunched shut.  Helen placed a hand
on 212's forehead, tilting her head back and then forcing her to open her
eyes.  She took a long breath through her nose, exhaling slowly.  There was
genuine fear in the girl's eyes.

   "You think you can disobey me?  You think you only need to do as I say
when I'm around?  Is that it?"

   The girl didn't dare to respond.

   "I'll need to think about what to do with you now," said Helen. 
"Suffice it to say, I'm not happy with you, 212."

   "I'm sorry, I'm-"

   "I don't want to hear your excuses," said Helen.



   She freed Claire of her ball gag, and immediately offered it up to the
mouth of the second girl, who accepted it compliantly.  She even tilted her
head forward to allow Helen easier access to the strap, which she secured
cruelly tight.  "You might have some chance to redeem yourself.  Let's see
how you cope with this," said Helen.  She went over to a bookshelf on the
room's far wall, and picked out a hardback volume titled "Psychotomimetics
II: Synthesis and Pharmacodynamics".  She told 212 to hold out her arms,
and placed the weighty book on her upturned palms.



   "You're going to hold that at arm's length until I say otherwise," she
said.  "Go and stand in the corner.  And you," her attention returned to
Claire, "sit down.  On the bed."



   Claire did so, and the mattress lurched as Helen sat down behind her. 
There were the swishing sounds of fabric and metal against each other as
Helen went about removing the straitjacket.  It gave Claire some time to
look around the room.  It wasn't as sterile and featureless as the others
she'd seen.  For one, the floor actually seemed to have some kind of
carpet, and there was the bookshelf, and a dresser along another wall with
a mirror set in a metal frame, with a few cosmetics arranged neatly in
front of it.  There was a table at one side of the bed, with a lamp and
another book whose title she couldn't make out.  There was a second, closed
door in the wall opposite to where they had entered.



   The implication certainly seemed to be that Helen spent some of her time
sleeping here.  Although, Claire thought, it would somehow be even stranger
if Helen lived somewhere else.  She couldn't quite imagine her getting out
of bed in the morning in a normal home, eating breakfast, and then
commuting in to another day of abusing her abducted girls.  She probably
didn't begrudge living in the same place as them.  Certainly, she seemed to
enjoy her 'work'.



   The idle musings occupied Claire's mind while she was undressed and laid
supine on the bed, offering no resistance and allowing Helen to handle her
like an oversized doll.  What was the point in fighting?  She thought back
to Zoe's expression the moment before she had fainted from the pain, a
consequence of invoking the full extent of Helen's wrath.  She looked over
at 212, whose arms were already shaking with the effort of holding up the
book.  She could minimise her suffering through compliance, she decided. 
Perhaps she could even learn to derive some pleasure from it.  The sense of
being completely controlled, with Helen dictating everything, was weirdly
calming.  Submitting to the other girl's will meant that, in a way, Claire
was no longer responsible for anything.



   She found that Helen had manacled her ankles and wrists to the bed's
corners while she was daydreaming.  Each limb was held in place by a fabric
cuff, tied off to the bed's corners with blue rope.  Helen's final addition
was a pair of wider straps that went around Claire's thighs, secured with
velcro.  She threaded more rope through metal rings attached to them, and
tied them off beneath the bed's frame.  The tension of the ropes shifted,
and Claire had to bend her knees in order to spread her legs to the extent
that the ropes dictated.



   She heard the all-too-familiar sound of stretching rubber as Helen
pulled on a pair of disposable gloves.  She looked down over her bare chest
to see Helen was kneeling either side of one of Claire's legs, and was
squeezing some water-based lubricant on to her right glove.  A moment later
Claire felt cool, slimy fingers against her exposed genitals.  She let her
head droop back onto the covers, resigned to her fate.



   "Normally I'd have one of the other girls do this," Helen said, her
fingers beginning to work at Claire's body, "but your behaviour today was
quite pleasing.  So you deserve someone who really knows what they're
doing."



   A pair of fingertips began to slowly probe their way inside while,
further around, Helen's little finger circled the perimeter of Claire's ass
hole.  It was almost a ticklish sensation, and she shivered abruptly as the
little finger's inward intrusion accompanied a gentle squeeze against the
inner wall of her cunt.  The thumb attended to duties on the outside,
skirting along the edges of Claire's lips but never quite coming into
contact with the node of sensitivity at the very apex, which was already
tingling.  Helen was remarkably dexterous.  It felt like every finger had
its own particular purpose, and they were all working in perfect
synchronisation.  Claire shuddered again.  A third finger joined the pair
already inside her, and this time she gasped.  The little finger was also
making a bolder intrusion, plunging deeper still into an ass hole still not
quite used to the amount of violation it was receiving.  It was as if Helen
was reaching right up inside her to squeeze directly at her nerves.



   "You like that?" she was saying.  She glanced down.  "Well, I think this
is evidence enough, don't you?"



   The fingers were withdrawn, leaving an emptiness with the absence of
their touch.  Helen held her hand in front of Claire's face, and rubbed her
thumb against her fingertips to demonstrate how wet they were.  She parted
them, and sticky strands drooped between glistening, gloved fingers.  "You
love it, don't you?  You've got no choice in the matter."



   She placed her other hand, unused up until now, against Claire's cheek.
Her gloved palm was smooth, without any of the warmth or slight moisture of
skin.  There was the faint odour of medical latex beneath Claire's nose.

   "Tell me how much you love it," she said.

   "I- aah," she was interrupted by the tightest squeeze yet between
opposing fingers, sending a throb through her entire pelvis, "I l-love it,
mistress."

   "I've practiced this a lot, you know.  I know your body better than you
do."

   Claire gave another moan.  Helen's manipulations were becoming faster
and rougher, but no less precisely controlled to deliver maximal
stimulation.  She brushed against Claire's clitoris for the first time, and
she shrieked.  Down there, Claire could feel muscles convulsing that she
didn't even know she had.  Helen's fingers were sliding easily against her
copious wetness.  Her buttocks lifted up to force Helen's fingers deeper
inside her; Claire was only half in control of the movement.



   Helen's hand slid over Claire's face, fingers curling beneath her jaw.
Then she clamped her palm over Claire's mouth, muffling her increasingly
desperate gasps.

   "Sssh," she said, "if you're like this now, you'll be screaming by the
time I'm finished.  We can't have you making too much of a disturbance."

   "Mmmh!"

   Claire breathed heavily through her nose.  She tried to lift her head,
and Helen forced her back down against the bed while her fingers probed
even deeper.  The ring finger switched roles, sliding up to join the
smaller digit in Claire's anus while the remaining two caressed tender,
vaginal flesh.  The bed creaked as she tugged on her wrist cuffs, and then
Claire's cries became a great deal quieter as Helen pinched her nose shut,
still keeping her mouth covered.

   "You're going to enjoy this," she said.



   Helen continued her work while Claire gradually became more and more
desperate for air.  Her chest trembled.  No matter which way she thrashed
her head, Helen's hand remained firmly clamped in place, denying her
speech, and now breath as well.  After thirty seconds, she was already
starting to feel dizzy.  Her cunt ached as her lungs burned.  She closed
her eyes, and when she opened them, her vision was pulsing in time with her
heartbeat, dark then light, growing redder as she reflexively gulped for
air.



   She felt consciousness start to slip away, but was torn back into
lucidity as her climax finally came, Helen still moving her fingers in, out
and around as Claire convulsed against the bed, feeling like she might
suffocate at any moment while, at the same time, orgasm seized her body
with unimaginable intensity.  The peak of it passed, Helen finally released
Claire's face from her grip, and she took in a huge, gasping breath.  With
the threat of asphyxiation finally removed, her body was somehow pushed
into a second release, no less intense than the first.  The relief of her
oxygen-starved brain felt like emerging from beneath dark water into cold
air.  She writhed against the bed covers once more, now fully able to sense
every movement of each finger around and within her twitching genitals.



   It took a few minutes for Claire's perceptions to return to normal as
she lay, panting.  Meanwhile, Helen first peeled away the wet glove on her
right hand, turning it inside out and then holding it in her left while she
removed that glove in the same manner.  She discarded them on the floor and
knelt over Claire, hands pressing down on her shoulders.  Her palms were
clammy.  She gazed down at her for a long time, her eyes serene and
unmoving.  Claire broke eye contact first, and Helen remained in the same
position, just looking down at her, a slight smile fading away into a
downward curl of her lip, as if she was beginning to contemplate something
unpleasant.



   "Don't look away from me, 314," she said.  "Look into my eyes.  Look at
me." She slapped Claire's cheek lightly.  "LOOK AT ME," she said again. 
Claire looked back up at her face - but something felt wrong now.  The
mock-sweetness in Helen's voice, the gentleness of her touch, were both
gone.  She was looking down at her with disdain.  She finally broke the
silence after a minute or so of an uncomfortable staring contest that
Claire had lost before it even started.



   "I'm afraid I haven't been entirely honest with you, 314.  It's true
that you've been behaving well recently.  That deserved some kind of
reward. But something hasn't seemed right to me, and I think I've worked
out what it is.  I never got to see the precise moment that you broke.



   "The other ones in your cell put up more of a fight.  It was more of a
gradual process with 523.  And the albino, she was stronger than I thought.
I enjoyed her reactions.  The tears running down her face when I caned her.
When we took her out of sens-dep, I think that was the moment." She was
smiling again now, and it felt more like she was looking through Claire,
rather than at her.  "That was time when she yielded to me.  And 271, I
only wish I could have been putting those needles into her myself.  Not my
specialty, though.  I'm looking forward to when she wakes up from the
sedation.  I'll be there, and I'll take her into my arms, and stroke her
hair and tell her that it's all right, and she'll say, 'I'm sorry,
mistress...'" Helen laughed softly, but genuinely.



   "And then there's you.  What should I do about-" Helen jerked around
suddenly, as if bitten by an insect.  "I TOLD YOU TO HOLD THAT BOOK AT
ARM'S LENGTH!"



   She sprang up from the bed, striding over to the girl cowering in the
corner, who was clutching the book against her chest and sobbing
pathetically.

   "I gave you a chance to redeem yourself, 212," she said, "and you wasted
it!"

   The girl pleaded through her gag, to little effect.

   "Consider yourself fortunate that we'll have to wait until morning for
your punishment," she said.  "At least I'll be able to sleep on it.  To
decide what's most appropriate.  Put the book back on the shelf."



   The girl's arms trembled as she reached up to replace it in the gap
between other volumes.  Then she held them against her chest, her muscles
completely exhausted.  Helen ungagged her, and she immediately began
tearfully apologising, while Helen looked at her and shook her head.

   "Nothing you can say is going to make it better now."



   She pushed open the other door, by the bookshelf.  Claire could see
white tiles beyond, and a sink with a mirror.  "Get yourself ready for
bed," said Helen.  The girl stepped inside.  The door shut, and there was
the sound of running water.  Helen returned her attentions to Claire,
resuming her previous position, kneeling over her.



   "As I was saying," she said.  "The others, I can believe that they've
become more submissive.  I've put them through a lot.  But you?  It's like
one day you made the conscious decision to just go along with it.  A
rational decision, not one borne from fear, or pain, or desperation.  You
think," she said, moving one of her hands to around Claire's throat, "that
you can have an easy ride if you don't resist at all.  But it doesn't work
like that."



   She squeezed a little, making it ever so slightly harder for Claire to
breathe.  "Like I said, the feedback from those men was quite positive.  A
little too positive for a girl's very first session.  And I get the
feeling," she said, leaning close enough to Claire to feel her breath
against her face, "that beneath that submissive demeanour you've taken on,
you're almost the same girl as when you arrived here.  So I never really
broke you in at all.  And that's not what I want."

   "But mistress, I-"

   Claire was silenced by a finger against her lips.  She didn't understand
Helen's sudden change in attitude - she'd seemed to be pleased with
Claire's behaviour up to now.  Where had she got the idea that she was
faking?  Claire had thought that yielding to the girl's demands was what
constituted submission, but it somehow didn't seem to be enough to satisfy
her.  What more could she do, though?

   "I don't think that you've suffered quite enough," said Helen.  "Not
yet."



   The door of the bathroom opened.  212 came back into the room and stood
by the bed, hands loosely clasped in front of her.  "I'm finished,
mistress," she said.

   "Good.  But you're sleeping on the rug tonight.  Get a blanket from the
cupboard and put your collar on."



   Helen reconfigured Claire's restraints while the other girl took some
things from the wardrobe.  She took a collar out from one drawer, a simple
leather band with a heavy, metal buckle, and secured it about her neck. 
Then she laid a blanket and a single pillow on the floor at the foot of the
bed.  Helen had attached Claire's wrists to each other by this point, using
the metal rings on the cuffs, and she left her lying on the bed while she
briefly stood to attach 212's collar to the bed frame with a length of
chain, held in place with a padlock.



   She pulled Claire from the bed by her wrists.  "Come on," she said. 
"Let's get you ready too." Helen donned yet another pair of gloves.  Claire
wondered how many boxes of them she used per day.



   She was led into the bathroom, whose fixtures were of the same type as
the others Claire had seen in various other rooms - white and sterile,
fittings that wouldn't look out of place in a hospital.  The wall next to
the metal sink bore a mirror and a liquid soap dispenser.



   Helen cleaned up the residue from between Claire's legs with paper
towels, and then sat her down on the toilet for her to void her bladder. 
More paper-towelling followed, and Helen changed to a fresh pair of gloves
before opening the packaging of a new toothbrush and squeezing toothpaste
onto its bristles.  She ran it under the water briefly, and placed a hand
beneath Claire's chin.

   "Open wide," she said.

   "But I can do it myself, mistress..."

   "This is what I was talking about," said Helen.  "If you had already
really broken, you wouldn't have questioned me.  Now do as I say."



   Claire was amazed at just how many uncomfortable ways Helen had found to
invade her prisoners' bodies.  Whilst having her teeth brushed by the girl
was a completely non-sexual act, it was disgustingly intimate.  She was
forced to stand, immobile, with one of Helen's hands gripping her jaw while
the other gave her teeth a thorough cleaning.  She was intensely glad when
the ordeal was over, and she was permitted to rinse her mouth with water
from a paper cup that Helen held to her lips.  After that, she was left to
lie on the bed for a few minutes while Helen attended to her own needs.



   She returned wearing a set of pyjamas - pink, with little white rabbits
printed on the fabric.  Somehow, it was a disturbing sight.  She had
brought another set for Claire, and she dressed her in them after some
fussing with her wrist- and ankle cuffs.  She pulled the covers back, and
encouraged Claire to lie down on the mattress with her back to her.  The
material was soft, and had the faint, clean smell of laundry detergent.



   There was the tearing sound of velcro, and Claire looked over her
shoulder to see Helen holding another set of fabric cuffs.  She sat
cross-legged while she put them around her own ankles, and then secured the
second pair around her wrists, testing with each hand that the opposite one
was secure.  She opened a drawer in the bedside table and took out four
padlocks, opening each with keys that she returned to the table.



   "Don't want you wandering round tonight," she said.  She slid her legs
down against Claire's own and clicked the padlocks in to place, joining
their ankle cuffs together.  Then she slipped one arm between Claire's
chest and the mattress, snapping the third padlock into place to join them
at the wrist.  She pulled the covers over them both with her remaining free
arm, and reached over to turn the lights out.



   Her left arm groped around Claire's own in the darkness beneath the
covers, and there was a muted click as the final padlock snapped in to
place.  Helen closed her hand over Claire's own, their fingers interlaced.
There was a soft warmth as she hugged against her from behind.  Their legs
tangled, and Claire was obliged to bend her knees as Helen curled into a
semi-foetal position against her back.



   "Good night, 314," she whispered.  "We're going to have so much fun
tomorrow, you and I."