Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: Hoop
Title: Incarceration
Part: 32
Summary: The final chapter.
Keywords: FF, MF, rape, bd, tort

   --

   Zoe's forehead met Helen's face, and Zoe felt something go crunch. 
Helen sprawled backwards, apparently too shocked to cry out, and Zoe cast
off the straitjacket, flinging it to one side and descending upon her.  A
knee to the solar plexus had the desired effect, and Helen gasped and
choked, curling up in an instinctively defensive position, too winded to
cry for help.  She raised her hands to her face.  A small amount of blood
appeared under her nose.



   Zoe straddled her, using one hand to mash Helen's face into the floor,
frantically opening each drawer of the bedside cabinet, looking for the
keys to Laura's restraints.  She found them, unfastened one of Laura's
cuffs, and handed her the key so she could attend to the other herself. 
Beneath her, Helen was gasping, struggling weakly, trying to reach the
electric shock device in her pocket.  Zoe grabbed her wrist, bending her
arm behind her back.  Helen's attempt to scream came out as a wheeze.  Zoe
rolled her on to her back, kneeling on her remaining free arm, and placed
both her hands around Helen's throat.



   "What's the matter, 'mistress'?  I thought you liked to play rough!"



   Her face was turning red, her eyes bloodshot.  She managed to take half
a breath, and Zoe tightened her grip.  Helen's hand reached out, finding
nothing to fight back with.  There was fear in her eyes.



   "Don't think I'm going to choke you into unconsciousness," Zoe said. 
"That'd be too easy for you.  Laura, help me get her on the bed."



   Laura had freed herself from the cuffs now, and came to help.  Zoe
ceased strangling Helen long enough for her to take a gasping breath. 
Laura was ready, holding the ball gag that she had worn earlier, and shoved
it into Helen's mouth.  It would be easier to manhandle her now that they
didn't need to worry about her calling for help.  True, she could still
make noises, but they were indistinguishable from the cries of any other
girl who might be being tortured here.  The attendants wouldn't know the
difference.  She thrashed and kicked, making muffled cries while they
wrestled her onto the bed.



   They snapped the cuffs closed around her wrists.  Laura found that there
were additional restraints beneath the bed, and they used them to shackle
Helen by the ankles as well, spreading her out, immobile.  She gasped and
coughed, apparently still out of breath.  Chains rattled against the bed
frame, completely unyielding, as any number of Helen's victims had already
found out.  Panting with the exertion, Zoe and Laura stood over Helen's
helpless body.  Gradually, as the adrenal surge of the struggle wore off, a
smile crept across Zoe's face.  Laura looked as if she couldn't believe
what was happening.  She turned to Zoe, slack-jawed.



   "We...  we got her," she said.  "We actually got her."



   Zoe sat down on the mattress.  Helen seemed to be trying to say
something through her gag, choking on her saliva.  The expression on her
face was of total, helpless rage.  Her fingers picked uselessly at the
metal cuffs, and she glared at them murderously.  Zoe reached into Helen's
pocket, and removed the shock device.



   "Yeah," she said.  "I guess we did, didn't we?" She grinned at Helen,
her teeth bared.  Sparks crackled between the metal prongs.

   "Wait, what are we going to do?  I mean, what if someone-"

   Zoe held up her hand to interrupt Laura.  "We're going to decide what
happens now...  'mistress'.  But you don't get to hear about it," she said,
placing the shock device on Helen's stomach.  "I'll leave that there for
you to think about.  But for now, I need some time to talk with Laura
here."



   They found a pair of earplugs amongst Helen's ample equipment, and Laura
held her head in place while Zoe inserted them into Helen's ears.  She was
still giving them a menacing look, so they blindfolded her as well, for
good measure.  Helen went quiet, apparently having given up on the
pointless idea of trying to call for help.  She shifted about, testing her
bonds as if hoping she would find a weakness that had somehow gone
unnoticed all this time.



   "I guess this is an opportunity to put some clothes on," said Laura.



   There were a handful of outfits in Helen's wardrobe, which seemed to
either be her own personal clothes, or outfits for her victims that catered
to any one of several fetishes.  Zoe seemed to be about the same size as
Helen, managing to find some adequate, casual clothing.  Laura wasn't quite
so lucky, and after a long search she decided she'd rather remain in her
undergarments than wear any of the various black, leathery things they
found in the cupboard's deeper recesses.  They stood at the foot of the
bed, considering the next move.



   "What happens now?"

   "Maybe we can shock her a bit?" Laura said, "perhaps till she passes
out? Maybe we can do all the fucking things that she...  that she..."

   "Take it easy," said Zoe.  "There's plenty of time for all of that.  But
we want to actually get out of here, right?"

   "I...  I know.  It's just, I don't know, what do we do?  How can we get
out?  There's guards everywhere, Zoe!  You remember what happened when you
tried..."

   "That was because I didn't have time to plan," she said.  "Now we can be
careful about it.  We're all getting out, okay?  All of us."

   Laura nodded.

   "Let's start with this," said Zoe.  She picked Helen's tablet computer
up from where she had left it, and tapped at the screen a few times.

   "Huh, that figures.  It makes sense that she's a control freak.  She's
got root access to every other server in the building." She sat down on the
bed.  "Which means I should be able to..."



   She tapped away silently for a few minutes.  Laura sat down next to her.

   "What is it you're trying to do?"

   "The cameras," said Zoe.  "I need to give us some time to find the
others.  Helen said they were being taken to sens-dep, right?"

   "We can't leave the room!  What if someone finds us?"

   "Look," said Zoe, pointing at the screen, "nobody patrolling the
corridors.  Why would they?  They keep everyone locked in their cells,
probably tied up too.  And it's late.  And now," she added, tapping the
screen and causing a flurry of text to appear in a terminal window,
"whoever's watching won't be able to see anything for a few minutes,
because I've just told the camera server it needs to reboot to install
updates.  Come on, we don't have much time."



   --



   Claire had made the mistake of thinking the day's torments were finally
over.  She and Emma had sat on the floor of their cell, with nothing much
to say to each other, cautiously taking pleasure in being left alone and
allowed to rest.  After a while, Claire had decided she might try and
sleep, even though she wasn't particularly tired.  Evidently she had
managed to drift off at some point, which meant that the awakening came as
a shock.  She found herself being pulled to her feet, cruelly torn away
from the escape of her dreamless sleep.  Emma was already face-down on the
floor, held there by an attendant's knee in her back as he tipped out the
contents of his equipment bag.



   "Miss Stanford wants to send you for some alone time," he said, "in
sens-dep.  You like it there, don't you?"

   Emma merely screamed and cried in response, nails digging into the soft
material of the cell floor as she tried to wriggle free.

   "Again!  Why!?  She can't do this to us!  I've already been!  We didn't
do anything wrong!  Please!"

   Her pleas were, of course, futile.  There didn't need to be any reason
behind the whims of their mistress.

   "I'll do anything else," she was begging, "just don't send me back. 
Please.  Pleeease!  NO!"



   Claire knew how much of an effect it had had on the girl the first time.
She wondered if her own response would be so traumatic, or easier now that
she was simply accepting whatever her mistress decided to do.  It wouldn't
be painful in the sense of the other tortures.  Maybe it would be easy to
endure.  But in that case, why was Emma so hysterical?



   Her cries quietened down once she had been gagged.  Claire allowed the
attendant to fit her with a straitjacket, and then she was left alone
briefly, as it was apparently going to take both of them to do the same for
Emma.  She was thrashing about with a good deal of energy, wide-eyed, tears
streaming down her cheeks.  The attendants wrapped bandaging material
around her head to blindfold her, and, with Emma now disoriented, the rest
of their job was much simpler.  They bound her legs, leaving her to squirm
and whimper while they both turned their attention back to Claire.  Her own
blindfold went on, and everything became dark.  Not even a small crack of
light filtered through.  She opened her mouth to accept a ball gag, noting
that it was softer than usual, with straps that didn't chafe her lips. 
Designed for long-term use, she supposed.  She felt earphones being
inserted into her ears and taped in place.  They emitted a steady, quiet
stream of white noise.  Her only connection to the outside world now was
the feeling of restraints against her skin.



   She felt herself being carried and dumped on some slightly-yielding
surface, and then rocking slightly as she was presumably moved to a
different room.  She was lifted up, and there was again the sense of
general motion before she came to rest, lying down on a padded floor.  At
least it was softer than their cell's, she thought.  The surface below her
shifted slightly, and there was the sensation of something heavy being
dropped nearby.



   And after that, nothing.



   Claire wiggled her toes, the only part of her body that was still
mobile. She shifted her arms, wishing she could cross them the other way
round inside the straitjacket.  Then she rolled over onto her back, seeing
nothing, hearing nothing.  So this is 'sens-dep', she thought.



   It didn't seem so bad for the first hour.  Or ten minutes, or thirty -
Claire couldn't tell.  What she did know was that the utter blackness and
absence of distinguishable sound was starting to break down for her. 
Within the static hiss, voices began to emerge.  Images formed in her mind;
the distinction between seeing and simply imagining became blurred. 
"Forever," the voices whispered.  "You'll be here forever.  She'll forget
about you."



   She tried to roll over, and was immediately gripped by the sensation of
falling.  A moment later her whole body jerked as her sense of gravity
re-established itself.  She wondered what was happening to the other girls
right now, and with nothing to distract her, she was able to visualise with
complete clarity any number of tortures that might occur to her.  They were
composites of her past experiences, hypnagogic images of Emma's thighs and
chest sore with cane-marks, Laura with her pupils dilated, drooling and
stupefied under the influence of Helen's drugs, the redhead, tattoo pen
buzzing and ready to add another permanent mark, Zoe strapped to a metal
frame, and the needles, oh God, the needles in her body...



   Claire began to realise why Emma had been so afraid of going back.



   Some indeterminate time later, Claire was just beginning to hallucinate
the sensation of insects crawling all over her skin when something
undeniably real touched her face.  She was jolted back to the more mundane
reality of something happening to her that she couldn't see, and tried to
squirm away, as if that would help at all.  It was a hand, someone was
touching her, pulling off her blindfold.  What were they going to do to her
now?



   In the dim light of the room, she could just make out the figure in
front of her, who was unfastening her bonds.  For some reason, the mirrored
faceplate of the attendants' helmets was absent.  She blinked deliberately
and slowly, unsure if this was still her mind conjuring images for her.  It
was Zoe.  Zoe was freeing her.  She loosened the ball gag, and Claire
pushed it out of her mouth.  The static hiss disappeared as the earphones
were removed.



   "What...  Zoe...  what's going on?"

   "We're getting you out of here," she said.  "We got her, Claire.  I
nearly fucking knocked her out, she's tied down and waiting for us."

   "Who is?" Claire felt a sadness about the fact that Zoe had obviously
been broken completely now, bent to their mistress's will, and was dragging
her off to torture some other victim.

   "Helen."

   Claire felt a stab of anxiety.  Mistress didn't like it when they called
her by name.

   "We got Helen," Zoe repeated.

   "But that doesn't make any sense," said Claire.

   "She'll snap out of it once we take her up," said Zoe.  Claire realised
she was addressing Laura, who was also present.  "Help me free Emma, too. I
guess they were the only two in here."



   Claire watched skeptically as they freed Emma from her bonds.  Surely
this wasn't allowed.  She followed them out of the room and into the
blindingly bright corridor, Zoe pulling her by her wrist.  None of this
made any sense.



   --



   Laura led the way back, heart pounding as she peeked around each corner
to check for attendants.  The corridors seemed quiet - Zoe was apparently
correct in her assumption that there was no need for anybody to patrol
them, with every victim at least locked in a cell, and probably restrained
in some way in addition to that.  She hoped that whatever Zoe had done on
Helen's computer had disabled the cameras long enough for them to make the
trip.  Every second they spent outside Helen's room was a risk.



   They made it back without being discovered, by which time Emma seemed to
have regained her composure, with Zoe reassuring her that everything was
okay.  Laura was more concerned about Claire, who seemed very spaced-out.
Perhaps her most recent experiences had completely broken her.  Laura
realised she herself had been perilously close to slipping into complete,
unresisting acceptance of her fate, but the sight of Helen bound and
helpless, like they had been so many times before, had dispelled all of
that.  Now the only things on her mind were escape, and as much revenge as
they could get without risking being caught.



   Zoe closed the door of Helen's room softly behind them, and they stood
at the end of the bed, looking down at her.  She seemed unaware that they
had returned, and was carefully and calmly trying to ease her hands through
the cuffs, which were far too well-fitted to allow such an obvious escape.
She was a victim of her own thoroughness.



   "Jesus," said Emma.  "Is it really her?  Actually her?"

   She went to the other end of the bed, and removed Helen's blindfold. 
She looked for a long time at Helen's face, with Helen glaring back at her.
"Aahe gah ouh," Helen attempted to speak.  "Ee cah talh.  Hu ih."

   "What was that?"

   Emma pushed the ball gag far back into Helen's mouth, and allowed her to
choke on it for a good few seconds.  She removed the pressure, and Helen
coughed up a few strands of drool.  She tried again to communicate, but
none of them were interested in what she had to say.



   "We can't do this!" Claire said, "we'll get in so much trouble!  This is
not okay!"

   "Trouble from who?" Zoe opened the remaining cupboards, searching for
inspiration.

   "From mistress!  What were you thinking, doing something like this?!"

   "It doesn't matter any more, Claire.  What she's done to us, it's over.
We're going to get out, but we're getting some payback first."

   "Out where?  Where to?"

   "Back to the world, Claire.  Out of this place."

   "But, how?"

   "We'll work it out.  I've got a few ideas."

   Emma removed Helen's earplugs.

   "But there's no reason we can't have a bit of fun first," she said.  Zoe
had found a robust pair of scissors, the kind that could easily cut through
denim if necessary.  She indicated to Laura and Emma to hold Helen down,
and set about slicing away her clothes.  Helen thrashed impotently,
mumbling incomprehensible curses.  They stripped her down to her underwear.
Claire only watched, chewing on her knuckles, looking worried and confused.



   "You can put some clothes on, you know," said Zoe.  "Hers don't fit
Laura, but you're probably about the right size."

   Laura gave Zoe a nasty glare, although she was only telling the truth.
She took a moment to find some things for Claire to wear - panties and a
bra that fortunately seemed to fit well enough, a pair of leggings, and a
long-sleeved top.  Emma ended up wearing a t-shirt that barely covered her
midriff, reasoning that it was better than nothing.  It had been a while
since any of them had worn normal clothes.



   The blade of the scissors slipped beneath the waistband of Helen's
panties.  Snip.  Zoe cut the waistband at the other side, and then pulled
the material away to expose pink, vulnerable flesh.  She ran the scissor
blade lightly over the area, and Helen froze up.



   "Careful, Zoe," said Laura.

   "What, you think we shouldn't be too rough?  After what she did to us?
Look at me," Zoe pointed at number tattooed on her breast, "if this doesn't
justify doing whatever I fucking want to her, then what does?  This isn't
coming off, Laura, it's permanent.  Maybe I should give our 'mistress'"
(she scowled as she used the term) "a few permanent marks of her own?  Huh?
How about that?"



   She held the scissors in front of Helen's face and snapped them open and
shut.  Helen winced, despite her best efforts to appear calm, which was
clearly not the case.  Emma put her hand on Zoe's back, and gently, but
firmly, took hold of the hand that was holding the scissors.



   "We all feel the same way," she said.  "But that's too far.  Give me the
scissors."

   "Are you fucking crazy?  After what she did to you?  To me?"

   Helen watched the argument unfold above her.

   "What's a few little cuts compared to a caning?  Compared to
waterboarding?  A whole fucking box of needles stuck in my skin?  Are you
out of your mind?  She's evil!"

   Zoe reached down with her other hand and tore away Helen's bra.  Helen
groaned as Zoe pinched a nipple between her fingers and pulled it up, and
then screamed quite loudly, despite her gag, as Zoe poised the scissor
blades either side of the pinched flesh.

   "Zoe!  Stop!"

   "Why should I?  Give me one fucking reason!"

   "Because," said Claire, "we're better than her.  If we hurt her like she
did, then we're just as bad."



   Zoe frowned at her for a few seconds.



   "Fuck that," she said.



   Snip.



   Helen cried out the loudest, but even the other girls joined in the
reaction of what Zoe had done.  Laura opened eyes that she had reflexively
scrunched shut to see Zoe holding the pair of scissors over Helen's
untouched chest, the nipple slightly pink from where it had been pinched
and then released at the last moment.  Zoe threw the scissors to the floor.
She moved up so that she was kneeling over Helen, face to face.



   "You have no idea how much I actually wanted to go through with that,"
she said.



   Laura felt queasy.  She was sure that the hatred was strong in all of
them, but Zoe seemed to be taking it the furthest.  Her eyes were wide, and
Laura could see that she was grinning manically as she slapped Helen's
face, once, twice, then again and again until Helen was no longer even
bracing for the impact, her head flopping from side to side with each
strike.



   "Fucking bitch!  Fucking-"

   She grabbed Helen by the shoulders, pulling her up and then shoving her
down roughly.  The mattress creaked beneath them.

   "Sshh, Zoe, what if someone hears?  Helen never spoke to us like that,
and there's no way she'd let one of us do it!"

   Zoe narrowed her eyes.  It was a fair point.  She gave Helen a final
slap before pushing her head down into the pillow as she stood up from the
bed.  Helen's cheeks were red.

   "I'm sorry," she said.  "I guess my self-control isn't as good as all of
yours."



   Zoe picked up the computer again, and Emma and Claire came over to look
at its screen, for the first time able to see whatever it was that Helen
used it for.  Zoe touched various icons, flicking through pages of data and
interfaces.  There was a menu of video streams, all showing camera feeds
from various parts of the facility, in full colour and high resolution. 
Some cameras showed cells like the one they had slept in, all containing
various number of girls.  In one cell three girls lay sleeping, with a
single small blanket to share between them.  In another, a girl was huddled
in the corner alone, a tray of food on the floor alongside her, untouched.
Elsewhere, girls who had probably shown more resistance had been left
blindfolded and restrained.



   Many of the other rooms were empty, with equipment neatly tidied away.
Laura recognised the large, black chair set in front of a bank of computer
monitors.  It seemed that she was not the only girl to undergo milking
either - somewhere else, two girls were restrained in the way she
remembered: strapped to metal frames, with feeding tubes secured into their
mouths, suction cups attached to their breasts that had been artificially
induced to lactate.



   There were a few attendants in one room, sat around a table and having a
coffee break.  Strange, Laura thought, that it should look like the break
room of any other workplace: a kitchen worktop, a few sofas, a calendar on
a fridge.  To them, this was their job.



   Another program seemed to be a database.  A list of three-digit numbers
down one side indexed everybody imprisoned in the facility.  Laura put her
hand over her mouth.  There were dozens.  Zoe tapped the "next entry" icon
again and again, and each time they were presented with the picture of a
girl and her statistics: height, weight, even allergies and blood type. 
How the hell did they even get that information?



   It was inevitable that they eventually stumbled across one of their own
entries.  Claire's face appeared on the screen, next to accurate, personal
data.  There was something called a "progress log", which they skimmed
through, although Claire turned away, not wanting to see.  The lower part
of the list contained the earliest entries:



   '314 was inducted into the facility today, no major issues.  Preliminary
session proceeded well.'

   '314 seems weaker than average, and already clings to her cell mate.  I
will enjoy breaking her, although the challenge won't be significant.'



   Then, later on, the entries gave details of Claire's "progress".



   '314 is becoming quite docile, and obediently cleaned my feet today. 
I'm becoming quite fond of her.'

   '314 ably serviced some important clients today, with no fuss or
resistance.  What a pleasure it is to train her.'

   '314 shows less resistance each day, and even seems eager to please me,
now.  She will be ready for auction soon, although I am tempted to keep her
for personal use.'



   Zoe set the tablet down for a few moments to think.  The scale of
Helen's operation was becoming apparent.  Across the room, Helen was once
again trying to communicate with them.

   "Shut up," said Zoe.

   "Mmh, mm mmh."

   "I said, shut up."

   "Mmmh." Helen rattled her restraints.



   Zoe flicked to another application, an e-mail client, filled with
correspondence, neatly sorted into directories.  The "internal" directory
contained communications between Helen and the rest of the facility staff.
In particular, there were recent entries about the "benefits" of the
attendants being curtailed due to a "potential escape incident." Zoe
grinned when she read Helen's account of her near-escape.



   "Wait a second," she said, under her breath.

   "What?" said Laura.

   "You think it's not okay for us to hurt her, Claire?"

   Claire responded non-committally.

   "I think I've just worked out a nice way to get some payback," she said.



   Laura watched as Zoe searched through the wardrobe, muttering about
something she had seen in there before.

   "Ah, here it is."



   The purpose of the black, rubbery thing wasn't obvious at first until
Zoe unlaced some drawstrings at the back - it was some kind of mask, or
rather, a hood that would cover the wearer's entire head.  There seemed to
be no eye holes though - only a slit for a mouth, which was currently
sealed with a zipper.



   "Lift her head up a bit," said Zoe.  "No, I supposed we'll have to roll
her over, actually."

   "Why are we putting that on her?" Laura asked.

   "You'll see.  Anyway, it'll be good for her to get some first-hand
experience of what she's been doing to us.  Now uncuff her wrists,
carefully.  Emma, you take her other arm.  Claire, hold her down."



   Laura could feel Helen's arms straining as they freed her from the bed
frame, but she was apparently not very strong, and couldn't get any
leverage with her body twisted awkwardly.



   "Should we take the gag out?" said Emma.

   Zoe thought for a moment.  They had all become familiar with the
effectiveness of various pieces of equipment during their time here.

   "The ball gag will stop her being able to speak, but it doesn't quieten
her down all that much.  And this hood probably won't do much.  Guess we
should swap it for something else."



   Zoe stooped down to pick up the cut-up remains of Helen's panties.  She
scrunched them into a ball, testing it for size in her hand, and then
picked up a discarded sock in addition to the panties.  She set the
undergarments down on the bed, making sure the scissors were close to hand.



   "You scream for help, you make any noise, and I really will use these,"
she said.  "Understand?"

   Helen glared at her.

   "Do you understand?" she raised her voice.

   Helen nodded once.

   "Good."

   "Actually, like hell I'm going to trust you.  Laura, get ready to shove
these in her mouth," she said, handing her the dirty undergarments.



   Zoe unbuckled the strap on Helen's ball gag, and eased it out.  She
immediately clamped her thumb and fingers either side of Helen's mouth,
forcing it open.

   "Aagh, wait, wait," she was saying, "I won't scream.  Wait.  Just give
me a second."

   Laura looked skeptical.

   "You're making a huge mistake," said Helen.  "You can't get out.  You've
already looked at the computer.  There's too much security," her mouth
began to twist into a grin as she listed reasons why their situation was
hopeless.  "We put those microchips under your skin, remember?"

   Emma glanced down at the small, white mark on her hand where the
insertion wound had healed.

   "Everywhere you go," Helen continued, "we'll be able to see.  I guess
you told the camera server to reboot to give you time to get the others,"
she said to Zoe, "but that won't work twice.  Our IT guy will realise
something's up.  You can't win.  So let me go, and I'll make it easy for
you.  Or you can wait until someone finds you, gets me free, and then your
punishment will be severe and imaginative."



   The girls looked at each other.



   "You know this isn't right, 314," she said.  "Claire.  I know this is
weird and you don't feel right about helping them.  I won't punish you. 
You need to stop this."

   "I don't..."

   "She's not your fucking slave any more!" said Zoe.  "None of us are! 
Laura, shut her up."

   "No no, wait!  I can-"

   "Not interested," said Zoe.



   Helen managed to clamp her lips shut, but couldn't help opening her
mouth to cry out when Zoe grabbed an ample amount of breast tissue between
her thumb and fingers, squeezing brutally.  Laura shoved the undergarments
into Helen's mouth, and Zoe covered her face with the rubber hood.  Helen
thrashed and struggled, making it as difficult for them as possible, but
with Emma holding her head into the pillow, Zoe was able to lace the hood
up at the back, pulling the arrangement tight against Helen's face and
tying the strings off at the back, then buckling the built-in collar.  The
arrangement was very secure.



   Emma pulled Helen's head up.  With the zipper fastened and her mouth
packed, Helen was effectively silenced, only able to make muffled groans.

   "Do you think she can get enough breath?" said Emma.  The rubbery
material of the mask bulged slightly, and then formed back around Helen's
nose as she struggled for air.

   "Hope so," said Zoe.  "Wouldn't want her to suffocate or anything.  I'm
sure she'll be fine.  Won't you?"

   She roughly grabbed another handful of Helen's bare breast, eliciting a
stifled mewl of pain.

   "Nice and quiet.  Much better."



   Zoe returned to looking at the computer, to enact the next part of her
plan.  "And now," she said to herself, bringing up the camera streams,
"where are you, you little red-headed bitch?"



   She looked up from the computer.  "This is going to take a bit of time,"
she said.  "But there's plenty of stuff lying around here.  We can't let
Helen get too comfortable.  Maybe you can rehabilitate Claire a bit.  Let
her work some of it out."



   Laura helped Emma manhandle Helen to the foot of the bed, where they
cuffed her wrists against the frame so that she was kneeling on the floor,
back and buttocks exposed.  They found a leather flogger, and Laura handed
it to Claire, closing her fingers around the handle.



   "Use it," she said.

   "I can't," said Claire.  "I don't want to hurt anyone.  It doesn't make
it right.  I mean, was it really so bad?"

   "Yes, it was.  She's just fucked with your head so much you don't see it
that way.  Now hit her."

   Claire hesitated.

   "Fucking hit her!" said Emma.



   The leather strips slapped against Helen's back.  She let out a grunt,
although the pain couldn't have been much, judging from Claire's
half-hearted attempt.

   "Oh, here," said Emma, "give it to me." She wrested the implement from
Claire's grip, holding the business end with her other hand to stretch it,
building up elastic energy that ensured a solid impact when she released it
against Helen's shoulders.  She grunted louder.  That one would have hurt.



   She struck her repeatedly, working herself into a rage as she unleashed
the flogger on Helen's back again and again, harder and harder, while Helen
dug her nails into her palms and tried to turn this way and that, so that
the strikes fell on untouched skin rather than the red, sore patches that
were developing in various places.  Emma cursed and swore, swinging her arm
wildly with each strike, putting the force of her whole body behind them.
Eventually she dropped the flogger, panting for breath, she and the other
girls watching the marks on Helen's back turn pink, then bright red.  Emma
settled into a crouch against the wall, tucking her head between her knees
and crying tears of anger or relief or sadness, Laura couldn't tell which.
Helen's chest was shaking, but whether she was also crying, they didn't
know.  Certainly, she would be in a lot of pain.



   They were quiet for a while after that, while Zoe tapped at the
computer. Laura felt decidedly half-hearted about picking up the flogger
and having a go herself, and Claire didn't look like she was about to try
either.  Some of the marks had now turned purple, and Laura found herself
wondering if they had gone too far.  No, she thought.  Nothing was too far
for what she'd done to them.



   "I've sorted out the cameras," said Zoe.  "I've frozen the streams for
the ones that look at the corridors, so we should be able to move around
safely.  It looks like the number of attendants is decreased overnight,
there's a few slacking off in the break room, and some more assigned to
watch specific cells that we can avoid.  The next thing is to go pay a
visit to Miss Tattoo Artist."



   She held up the computer so they could see the video stream of the
red-haired girl, who was standing in a tiled room with a metal chair at its
centre, which had suggestive, rust-coloured stains on the floor beneath it.
She was attending to a tray of what looked like surgical equipment -
bandages, cotton swabs, needles and the like.  She sprayed something onto a
paper towel, and started to wipe down the chair's surfaces.



   "I've frozen the camera for her room too.  She's one floor down, along a
corridor," said Zoe.  "If we rush her, we can overpower her."

   "I don't know, Zoe, that sounds like one hell of a risk.  What if we
can't do it?"

   "There's four of us," she said.  "Helen's not exactly going to be able
to do anything.  And look, the equipment room is pretty nearby.  We'll have
everything we need."

   "Can I ask what exactly we're going to do, once we 'overpower' her?"
said Laura.

   "We're going to get her to help us," said Zoe.  "And then I'm going to
have some fun with her."

   "Shouldn't we just focus on getting out?  I mean, Helen's not going
anywhere.  Couldn't we escape?"

   "Sure, we could," she said.  "And then eventually someone would come and
find her, free her, and things would go back to normal.  And she'd carry
on. We'd be out, and everything else would be just the same.  I want her to
know the gravity of what she's done.  Just trust me on this, all right?"



   Laura wondered if Zoe was enjoying herself a little too much.  Wasn't
this enough?  She couldn't very well run off on her own, though.  Zoe
seemed to know her way around the computers, which would be vital for
getting out safely.  Her knowledge from when she was on Helen's staff would
doubtless help.  Christ, that's true, Laura thought, Zoe used to work for
her.  She couldn't imagine her being on the other side of their situation.



   She, Emma and Claire hauled Helen out of the room, half-carrying her,
half dragging when she managed to squirm out of their grip.  Zoe went to
the equipment room, coming back with a large ball gag, a see-through
plastic bag, and some cable ties that she had already arranged into a ring.
She pointed to another doorway.



   "Quietly," she said.  "She's in there.  I'm going to run in first, Emma,
you follow me and help hold her down.  Laura, you and Claire can drag Helen
in afterwards.  Okay?"



   Laura nodded.



   She watched from the corridor, hoping that Zoe knew what she was doing.
Zoe eased the door open ever so quietly, revealing the red-haired girl, who
had her back to the door.  She was humming to herself happily, holding up
each of her tools to the light to inspect them for stains, wiping them down
with latex-gloved hands and returning them to their proper place on the
stainless steel table.



   Zoe crept quietly for the first few steps, then went all-out and charged
at the girl, plastic bag raised in her hands.  She pulled it down over the
girl's head, who shrieked in surprise.  Emma was close behind, grabbing the
redhead's arms and pinning them to her waist.  Zoe managed to get the ring
of zip ties around the girl's neck and yanked them tight, securing the bag
in place.  She immediately began to choke, getting one hand free despite
Emma's best efforts and grabbing at the thin plastic cutting into her neck,
then falling to her knees as the girls pulled her down.  The plastic bag
fogged up from her strangled breaths, and Zoe clamped her hand over the
girl's mouth.  She motioned for Laura to drag Helen inside, and she did so,
shutting the door.  The redhead kicked out and sent the metal table
crashing to the floor, and Laura ran over to help Zoe and Emma wrestle her
to the ground.



   "You can cooperate with us," said Zoe, "and we'll cut the bag off.  You
can keep struggling, and we'll leave you to suffocate.  What's it going to
be?"

   The girl retched and choked, even with Zoe's hand removed from her mouth
she seemed unable to form a response.  Droplets of condensation ran down
the plastic surface.  There was a desperate look in her eyes.

   "I wonder if she wants to make the sensible choice," said Zoe, "or not.
Hmm?"

   More strangled gasps.  The plastic sucked against the girl's mouth and
nostrils, allowing her to take half a breath of oxygen-depleted air before
sealing against them.

   "Time's running out," said Zoe.

   "Please..." the girl managed to croak, "take...  off..."

   "Promise to be a good girl?"

   Laura winced.  It sounded like something Helen would say.  The redhead
nodded desperately.

   "All right then." Zoe used a nearby scalpel to sever the zip ties,
pulling the bag off and allowing the girl to take huge, gasping breaths as
she recovered.  Weakened by the ordeal, they had no trouble holding her
down.  She didn't seem to have the presence of mind to resist, merely lying
there and panting.



   "How..." she gasped, "How did you get free?"

   "Doesn't matter," said Zoe.  "What we need now from you, is a little
favour."

   The redhead looked doubtful.

   "Or alternatively," said Zoe, "we can just tie you up and leave you like
her." She pointed to Helen.

   "Why would I help you?" she said.

   "I've got more plastic bags," said Zoe.  "Also there's four of us, one
of you, and a lot of sharp things in this room.  Am I making sense?"

   "What do you want from me?"

   "Get your tattoo pen," said Zoe.  "We need to make Claire's body double
here a bit more convincing."



   It was becoming apparent what Zoe had planned for Helen.  Looking at her
lying on the floor, face completely covered by the hood, Helen was simply
an anonymous girl, like many of the victims here.  Her clothes had fitted
Claire so well because they were, essentially, the same size, and roughly
the same build.  No birthmarks - not that any of her staff would have seen
her naked anyway.  With Helen's hair tucked inside the hood, the only thing
that would distinguish the girls' bodies was the number "314", inked on
Claire's buttock.



   "Take your pants down, Claire."

   She didn't question Zoe's instructions.  She was used to taking orders
of that kind.  Zoe pointed to the number on Claire's backside.

   "Write it on her," said Zoe, "and make it look exactly the same."

   "I can see what your plan is," said the redhead.  "You seriously think
that will work?  What about the microchips?"

   Zoe brandished a scalpel.  Claire looked at it anxiously.

   "Just get to work," said Zoe.



   They put the ball gag Zoe had brought on the redhead girl, in case she
decided to try and call for help.  They rolled Helen over on to her front.
Zoe sat close by, scalpel in hand, watching the redhead intently as she
reluctantly inked the solid black numbers onto Helen's buttock.  After that
came the unpleasant business of the microchip.  It wasn't buried deep, and
Zoe managed to remove it from Claire quickly and cleanly.  The chip was
small, about the size of a grain of rice.  Zoe sterilised it with alcohol,
and Helen's breath quickened as they made a small cut to insert the chip
into her hand, covering it with a plaster.  They decided they may as well
remove everyone else's while they were here, and had the tools to do so.



   "It's sore," said Emma, pointing out Helen's reddened skin where it had
been inked.  "They're going to notice it's new."

   "Not if we even things up," said Laura.  "Keep holding her down."

   She spanked Helen's other buttock with her palm, striking harder once
she had found the best way to angle her hand.  There was a series of
satisfying slapping sounds, and Helen's ass was soon a bright and even red
all over.  Laura had even managed to leave a mark in the shape of her hand
where she had landed a particularly effective blow.

   "There," she said, "perfect."



   "Mmh hmmh?" the red-haired girl asked.

   "Sit in the chair," said Zoe.

   The girl looked around the room, apparently decided there were no other
options available to her, and grudgingly complied with Zoe's order.  Her
fingers reached for the ball gag.

   "Uh-uh," said Zoe.  "It stays on."

   "Mmmh," she protested.



   Zoe used more zip ties to bind the girl to the chair by her wrists and
ankles.  Then she picked up the scalpel again, and began to cut away her
clothes.

   "Her as well?  Aren't we going a bit far?  What about Helen?"

   Emma looked concerned.

   "What I want you to do," said Zoe, "is take Helen to the room one floor
down, the one on the left of the computer screen.  It's got a bench with
restraints on it.  Take her there and strap her down, make sure she's
spread out.  Oh, and put a ring gag in her mouth, too.  Leave the hood on.
Okay?"



   They left Zoe with the red-haired girl, assured that they wouldn't
encounter any attendants on the way.  The corridors were strangely quiet.
Helen, obviously realising the basis of the plan to have her assume
Claire's place, was thrashing more energetically now, desperately trying to
get them to allow her to communicate.  They found the room that Zoe had
sent them to, and brought Helen inside.  The only furniture was the bench,
covered with a thin layer of plastic padding.  Thick, metal cuffs were
attached at either ends, secured with heavy bolts.  They lay Helen down on
it, and locked the cuffs around her limbs.  The arrangement held her spread
out, exposed.  She arched her back, finding no give in the restraints,
looking around blindly.



   "Guess we'll put this in now," said Laura, holding up the gag they had
collected from the equipment room - a metal ring a few inches across, set
between two leather straps.  "I suppose we'll have to roll the hood up a
bit."



   They loosened the lacing just enough to reveal Helen's mouth from
beneath the rubber.  Her skin was slick with sweat.  She spat out the
saliva-soaked ball of fabric.



   "Please," she said, "wait, just calm down, this is enough.  I'll let you
go.  I'll let you go!  Don't listen to 27-...  to Zoe.  She's gone crazy.
You don't know what she's going to do.  We need to talk about this."

   "Pleading now, are we?" Laura laughed.  "You're pathetic."

   "You don't understand," said Helen, "she's a sadist.  I used her as a
chemist because I couldn't let her near the girls, she was too rough with
them.  You don't need to do this!  You can walk out of here!"

   "Sure we can," said Emma.  "And then you'll just come for us again. 
Nice try, though," she said.



   They shoved the ring gag into her mouth, wedging it open uncomfortably
wide.  Then the hood came back down.  They opened the zipper, and Helen's
tongue protruded past it, trying to find any way to loosen the gag. 
"Hleah," she said "ohh't oh.  Uu aahn."

   "Guess this is where we leave her," said Emma.

   "Haah!" protested Helen.

   "You just lie there and relax," said Laura.  "I'm sure you won't be left
alone for long."

   "Aauh!  Haah!"

   Helen's nonsense sounds were a lot quieter the other side of the door,
once they had left the room.



   They returned to Zoe and the redhead.



   --



   Emma happened to be the first to walk back into the room, gasping at
what she saw.  Behind her, Claire threw her hands up to cover her eyes.

   "Oh, God, Zoe!  What the fuck?"



   Laura had the sense to close the door, lest they be overheard.



   "What have you done?"

   Zoe turned to them, brushing her hair out of the way with a latex-gloved
hand.  It left a little streak of blood on her forehead.

   "You all saw what she did to me," she said.  "This fucking red headed
bitch.  The needles.  I thought this would be a fitting punishment for
her."



   Zoe had put one of the surgical masks that the redhead had always worn
over the girl's face, covering the ball gag.  Her eyes were red now, wet
with tears.  Her hands were shaking, breath coming in shuddering, stifled
gasps.  Zoe had apparently been quite careful - there wasn't much blood,
considering what she had done to her.  The girl was curling and uncurling
her toes, which caused the little pile of discarded needle sheaths between
her feet to shift and rustle.



   "Fucking hell," said Laura.

   "She'll be fine, said Zoe," grinning a little disturbingly.  "See, I've
tied off these strands of catgut here and here, so they'll only get torn
out if she moves too much."

   The redhead's eyes turned upwards.  It looked like she wanted to scream,
but the movement of her rib cage associated with taking a deep breath would
cause the new, chained-together breast piercings to tug on each other
painfully.  She merely choked and shuddered, staring at something beyond
the ceiling.  Laura happened to glance down at what Zoe had done between
the girl's legs.  She turned away, swallowing hard against rising bile.

   "Jesus Christ."



   "Time for an internal e-mail," said Zoe.  She discarded her gloves, and
picked up the tablet.  Her fingers moved rapidly across the on-screen
keyboard.



   'To all attendant staff:



   'Since the last near-escape incident, all attendants have been banned
from using the girls for their own purposes.  I have, however, noticed that
this had led to a decrease in morale, productivity, and attitude towards
work.  It is now apparent to me that use of the girls is a more important
perquisite of your employment contract than I had thought.



   'I am extending an offer to all staff, effective immediately, of the use
of subject 314.  You may find her in room 22A.  314, despite my best
efforts, remains resistant, and I have decided that the best course of
action for her is extreme conditioning.  You may use every part of her body
for yourselves, as you see fit.  A vital part of her training process is
disorientation and sensory deprivation, so she is to remain hooded and
gagged at all times.  Other than that, you many do as you wish.  She is my
gift to you, with the anticipation that this will make your employment here
more enjoyable.



   '-- H.  Stanford'



   "Does it read all right?" said Zoe.

   The others scanned over it.  They compared it with other correspondence
from Helen, to make sure it sounded like something she would write.  Zoe
sent the message, and they loaded up the video streams to watch what
developed.



   A few minutes passed.  The attendants in the break room continued their
game of cards, beneath the watchful gaze of the surveillance camera.  The
girls saw one of them reach into his pocket, and pull out a phone.  He
looked at the screen for a few seconds, and then gestured excitedly to the
others.  They crowded round, all eager to see the message, and then the
room emptied in moments.  Emma wondered why they weren't appearing on any
of the other screens, and remembered that Zoe had frozen the corridor
camera streams.  The next they saw of the attendants was when they entered
the room where Helen lay strapped to the bench in its centre.  One of them
already had his trousers around his ankles.



   They fell upon her like a pack of animals.  As the attendants began to
touch her, Helen's body tensed up.  She struggled violently, twisting her
body while her limbs remained locked in place.  The fastest attendant
positioned himself between her thighs, grubby penis already in hand, and
took his prize.  The next went for the opposite end, bending her head back
over the edge of the bench and parting the hood's zipper with his fingers,
before thrusting his dick into her mouth.  The third, too slow to secure an
orifice for himself, seemed content with pawing at Helen's breasts, and
then rubbing his genitals on them.  Another attendant with different
interests half-raised his faceplate from over his mouth, so that he could
begin sucking on Helen's toes.



   It was strange to watch Helen's ordeal in complete silence - it seemed
that the cameras had no microphones.  It made the scene feel distant,
somehow unreal, as they all watched intently.  Zoe was rapt, grinning
widely.  Emma felt only a grim sense that Helen deserved what was happening
to her, and Laura didn't exactly seem to be enjoying herself either. 
Claire looked like she didn't know what to think.  Emma winced as the first
attendant pulled out and copiously ejaculated onto Helen's stomach.  The
camera's resolution was good enough to capture each spurt of sticky glaze
draped over her body.  His companion, apparently unconcerned about his
predecessor's semen, plunged in with vigour, reaching one hand underneath
Helen's ass where he did something that caused her whole body to spasm
briefly.  He withdrew his fingers, and sucked on them.  With his other
hand, he gave the thumbs-up sign to his colleague, who had finished fucking
Helen's face.  He withdrew, and his copious seed dribbled from her lips in
thick strands.  His dick in Helen's mouth was soon replaced by another.



   They unshackled her from the bench after a few more had had their way
with her, and at the first sign of her restraints being loosened, Helen
tried desperately to get free, kicking and flailing clumsily.  She was
completely overpowered by the attendants still waiting their turn, jostling
each other, now in various states of disrobement.  They dragged her over to
the wall, where one of them pinned her by her neck, allowing another to
maul her breasts with rough hands.  Another attendant, quite to the
incomprehension of everybody else, took to licking her inner thigh,
following the trail of sticky fluids until his mouth was upon her genitals,
where he lapped eagerly.  He was pulled aside by one who had not had his
turn, and he joined the fray next, dick in hand while several others
watched and masturbated.  It was an appalling, chaotic spectacle.



   Helen was gradually losing either the will, or the ability, to resist.
Each kick, each swing of her arms, became slower and weaker.  Her head hung
down, the semen of countless men drooling from her lips.  They passed her
around between themselves, her body limp like a rag doll.  Those whose
dicks had softened violated her with their fingers or tongues instead. 
Eventually, after a long and violent ordeal, it began to appear that the
attendants were tiring of her, and they trickled out of the room one by
one, back to their break room or their other duties.



   The last attendant to leave diligently cuffed Helen's hands and ankles,
and left her alone to squirm weakly on the stained floor.



   The girls said nothing to each other.  They sat for a long while, the
only sound the occasional whimper of pain from the red-haired girl.  Zoe
closed the video feed, and stood up.



   "Let's get out of here," she said.  "I remember where the lab is.  We
should be able to get out that way.  Looks like the new girl is working
late." She loaded the camera stream for the laboratory where she had once
worked.  It looked tidier now.  The new girl was sitting on a stool in
front of the workbench, writing in a notebook, pausing now and then to tap
at her calculator.  Zoe narrowed her eyes at the screen.



   "Don't think I've forgotten about you," she said.

   "What about her?" Laura pointed to the girl in the chair.  She was
looking very pale now, eyelids fluttering.

   "Someone will find her.  I guess.  Hopefully soon, for her sake," said
Zoe.



   The girl managed the faintest attempt at a scream before they left her
to suffer alone.



   --



   They reached the lab without event, and Zoe tapped on the frosted glass
window of the door she had made the mistake of venturing through on the day
she had joined Helen's victims.  The lock had been taped open - she
supposed it didn't need to be locked from the outside any more, now that
Helen's new chemist was fully involved in what went on here.



   The new girl had obligingly opened the door, having to reason to be
suspicious, and Zoe pounced on her at the first opportunity.  The girl
opened her mouth to scream.  Zoe simply rammed her hand into her mouth,
tripping her and shoving her to the floor, and then swearing as the girl
bit down on her fingers.  She pulled it free, and Emma joined in helping to
pin her down.



   "There are a lot of dangerous things in here," said Zoe, "that we could
use to threaten you.  So do I have to pick a specific one, or are you going
to cooperate?"

   "Get off me!  How did you get out?  Help!"

   She managed to cry out once before Zoe grasped her around the throat.

   "What about this, then?"

   Zoe reached up onto the workbench, knocking over vials and flasks.  She
grabbed a heat gun - in the real world, it was used for burning paint away
from walls.  In a chemical laboratory, the scorching stream of air it
emitted made for an excellent way to dry glassware.  She thumbed the switch
onto a low setting, a mere hundred degrees or so, and pointed it at the
girl.



   "What are you doing?  Are you crazy?"

   "I don't know," said Zoe.  "Maybe I am.  Maybe your drugs turned me into
a psycho.  Regardless, I don't think you have many options right now."

   Laura, apparently wanting to feel useful, pinned the girl's legs. 
Claire joined in after some encouragement, looking at Zoe expectantly.

   "You can't get out," the girl said.  "You of all people should know how
tight the security is here." She glanced nervously at the heat gun.

   "That's why you're going to help us," said Zoe.

   "Why would I-"

   "I don't have time for this," said Zoe.  "Cooperate or not, your
choice." The heat gun whined as she turned it to full power, and she played
it back and forth across the girl's abdomen.  A few loose threads on her
clothes sizzled and curled up into black particles.

   "Wait, wait!  Stop!  The drugs I gave you, they were just saline
solution!  Helen wanted me to do it, but I couldn't!  I- I'm on your side!"

   Zoe lowered the heat gun.

   "I know," said the girl, "I know now that she's a psychopath.  I know
the drugs weren't safe.  That's why I didn't give them to you.  Doesn't
that count for something?"

   "Then why the fuck are you working for her in the first place?" said
Zoe.

   "I didn't realise it would be like this!  By the time she was asking me
to do all that stuff I was in too deep, I mean, you were the same, right? I
didn't know, swear to God!  She told me it was research!"

   "Yeah," said Zoe.  "I guess that does sound familiar."

   The girls relaxed their grip a little, but kept hold of her.



   "You really can't get out, though," she said.  "And could you get off me
now, please?  I get it, four of you, one of me, I'm not going to try
anything.  But we don't need to all stay down here on the floor."

   Zoe couldn't help but notice she had glanced to the side, as if looking
for something she could use to her advantage.

   "Let's be realistic," she continued.  "You can run out through the
garage, and get outside, and the attendants will come after you, and that
will be the end.  I don't know how you got this far, but if you grovel to
Miss Stanford then perhaps she'll go easy on you.  I'm not saying she'll
let you off completely, but it might not be so bad.  If they catch you
running away?  Then she really will use you to test drugs on.  And nothing
else, probably."



   "I wonder how many guards they have out there at night," said Emma. 
"Probably not many...  and they couldn't use their dart guns in the dark."
She looked up at Zoe.  "Wouldn't it be convenient for us if they were
somehow distracted?"

   "I know just the thing.  You two, tie her to that chair."

   "Whatever you're planning won't work," the girl said.  "Do the sensible
thing, for your own sake."

   "Better gag her as well," said Zoe.  "I'm just going to make up a little
preparation here."



   She went over to a refrigerator, and searched among its contents. 
Meanwhile, Emma shoved her down into the chair, and Laura looked around for
something convenient to tie her up, finding a bundle of silicone tubes used
for intravenous drips.  The girl put up a reasonable fight, but at three
against one, the outcome was already decided.

   "No no, wait!" she was saying, "I helped you out!  I - I can help you! I
can get you out of here!"

   "Says the girl who told us that was impossible about thirty seconds
ago," said Zoe.

   "Yes, but there are other ways!  If you would just listen-"

   Emma clamped her hand down over the girl's mouth.

   "I think we'll be just fine," she said.



   After a brief scuffle the girl was sitting still, wrists and waist
constricted with the stretchy tubing, mouth packed with medical gauze that
was held in place by more bandage wrappings.  Zoe found what she was
looking for in the refrigerator, and weighed out a tiny amount of white
powder from a glass vial, diluting it with saline solution.  She unwrapped
a sterile syringe and needle, drew up the liquid, and dislodged the air
bubble.  Helen had never had Zoe actually administer the drugs to any of
her victims, but she had a rough idea of what would work.

   "I'm afraid I'm no good at finding veins," she said.  The girl was
wide-eyed, shaking her head.

   "Mmmh!  Mmmoh!"

   "So intramuscular will have to do."



   They wrestled with the girl's trousers until they were pulled down
enough to expose the side of her buttock, and Zoe administered the
injection.  She loomed up close to the girl, smiling.

   "Buckle up," she said, "because you're in for one hell of an acid trip."

   "You mean like LSD?" said Claire.

   "Exactly," said Zoe.  "The attendants are going to go after anyone who
looks like they're escaping.  I bet we can make her run pretty fast once
she's tripping.  Then we can get out while they're busy with her freaking
out." Zoe hopped up onto the bench, and sat down.  "I don't know how long
it'll take to set in, though."



   The girl had gone pale.  A droplet of cold sweat ran down her face.  She
strained at her bonds, the elastic tubing coiled tight around her wrists.
She looked at Zoe with pleading eyes.

   "Too late now," said Zoe.

   "Mmmh!"

   "What happens when we get out?" said Claire.  "They'll realise something
has happened.  When they find that red-haired girl, with...  well.  you
know.  And once they realise Helen's missing...  and what about the other
girls?  There are so many in here!"

   "We can't get everyone out tonight," said Zoe.  "Even if we unlocked the
doors using the computer system, most of them are tied up anyway.  And they
wouldn't get past the attendants.  We can't save everyone."

   "We're just going to leave them?"

   "Zoe's right," said Laura.  "It's crazy enough that we managed to get
this far.  We can't take any more risks."

   "They can cope with one or two more days," said Zoe.  "The place will be
in disarray anyway.  Once we get out, we can tell someone about this place.
And then it will be over."

   "But the attendants, you saw what they did to Helen.  What if they do
that to the other girls once nobody's in charge?"

   "They might," said Zoe, "that's a risk.  But they might also just stick
with '314', seeing as she's their official whore now.  We really can't tell
what's going to happen.  Shit, maybe they'll all just go home when they
realise nobody's in charge any more."

   "That's a bit too much to hope for," said Emma.

   "Yeah, well.  It's the best we're going to manage."



   They sat and watched as the girl reacted to the drug Zoe had given her.
Administered by injection, the effects appeared fairly soon, and she
started to look around the room not in fear, but in a sort of curious way.
She tested her bonds not as if trying to get free, merely exploring the
tactile sensation.  She rolled her eyes about, pupils dilated.  She blinked
slowly at Zoe as she stooped over to come face-to-face with the girl.



   "BAD TRIP INCOMING!" Zoe yelled.

   The girl froze up, and Zoe ran over to the light switch.

   "Everyone else, I'd appreciate if you could help by just breaking
things," said Zoe, "but obviously not any chemicals.  Just do things that
seem to make her upset."

   She flicked the lights on and off rapidly, knocking glassware off a
shelf, conical flasks smashing loudly as they impacted with the floor.

   "It's demons!" she was shouting, "the demons are coming!  Your brain's
so fucked now you'll be tripping for a week!  How do you like that!?"

   The girl seemed confused at first.  Then, as Zoe's threats and taunts
became more imaginative, her agitation increased, until she was squirming
wildly, screaming through her gag as her mind seized on all the things Zoe
was conjuring up and made them real.

   "Better run!" she shouted.  "They're going to come for you!  They're
going to catch you!"

   It wasn't apparent who the girl considered "them" to be, but she seemed
frightened all the same.



   "Carry her out that door," said Zoe, "that's where I used to get dropped
off.  There's a garage below us.  Someone take her access card."



   Between them they manoeuvred the girl out of the door.  They cut her
free, barely managing to keep hold of her - she seemed completely
terrified, imbued with the adrenal strength of an intense fight-or-flight
response that was commanding her emphatically to do the latter.  Together
they stumbled down the concrete stairs, and Claire, the only one not
grappling the poor girl, opened the door.



   Cool night air rushed in.  It felt amazing.  Claire took a huge lungful,
as if she had been saved from drowning.  Fresh air.  Outside air.  Beside
them, the hysterical girl kicked and whimpered, tears running freely down
her cheeks.

   "Now run," said Zoe.  "Or I'll eat your soul."



   She pulled the gag out of the girl's mouth, and she ran off, wailing
manically.  They saw her veer off to the right as she caught sight of
something.  The last they saw of her were her pale buttocks, still bared
from when they had given her the injection, fading into the night as she
fled from whatever she was hallucinating.  A few moments passed, and then a
male voice shouted "Hey!  She's escaping!"

   "Get her!"

   "Another one?  Christ."

   "What do you mean it doesn't have a night-vision scope!?"



   There were hurried footsteps, and cursing.  Two attendants ran past the
door as the girls peered through it, holding it cracked.  The attendants
were shouting to one another as they pursued the girl.



   Twenty yards away, the gate was visible, a black, wrought-iron
silhouette against the starry sky.  The guard post alongside it was vacant,
a discarded styrofoam cup lying nearby.  Zoe's heart thumped in her chest.

   "Go!"



   They ran, welcoming the pain of gravel beneath their bare feet.  Laura
fumbled for the girl's access card, and swiped it across the card reader
set in a pedestal near the gatepost.  Motors whined as the gate creaked
open.  Voices shouted to each other from somewhere distant.

   "The gate!  Who's opening the gate!?"



   The sound of the voices receded behind them as the girls fled, never
looking back.