Charity McKenzie’s girlfriend was late.
They had been in a relationship for a year - long enough for Charity to know that Blue Barclay was always on time. Punctuality was a key feature of Blue’s personality. Her attention to detail was exquisite. It is what made Blue successful at her job. It made their shared home feel safe and familiar. It provided Charity the trust she needed to allow Blue to dominate her in the bedroom - to dominate her in their relationship.
Furthermore, tonight, of all nights, with all the anticipation, Charity knew that Blue would not be late unless something was seriously wrong.
And that made Charity worry.
She checked her phone again. She opened the FamTrack app which allowed Charity to see exactly where Blue was. Her icon did not appear on the map. Frantically, Charity zoomed out until even the outer suburbs of the city were displayed. Maybe Blue’s phone had died.
The Clearwater Bar, where Charity sat at a table for two pressed against the wall, was the place where she had met Blue exactly one year ago. Charity had arrived more than ten minutes early, practically trembling with excitement and, more importantly, arousal. It had been 14 days since Blue had locked Charity into her chastity belt. And despite the effectiveness of the device, Charity couldn’t help but surreptitiously press the heel of her palm against the crotch of her calf-length, boho sundress and feel the smooth surface of the cold, hard plate underneath that covered her heated sex.
But now, Blue was over twenty minutes late. Charity’s arousal had morphed to anxiety.
Blue had acquired the chastity belt for Charity several months before. It fit in naturally with their lifestyle which was steeped in the practices of dominance and submission. Charity felt a nervous thrill every time Blue slid the device up her legs - the telescoping band of the waist belt would stretch over her hips and then naturally shrink back to greedily grasp her gentle curves. Once the belt was tightened and locked, the metal plate maintained a comfortable pressure over Charity’s sex - a presence that lingered in her consciousness at all times. Every day felt like young love. The passage of every hour - both giddy and painful. Needless to say, Charity was particularly horny almost all of the time.
The belt was as sleek as a silk thong - perfectly matching Charity’s curves, causing no encumbrance to her mobility. It was smooth and slippery and left no blemish or bruise. It fit well under clothes and cleanliness was easy to maintain.
Charity remembered clearly Blue’s demonstration when she first introduced the belt. Blue opened the waistband up to a large circumference then quickly squeezed it back down like an accordion. “When I press the disk to the faceplate of the belt, there is no mechanical lock. Rather, it changes the speed at which the waistband can expand and contract. So, what I just did in seconds would take months or even years when the belt is activated. This will allow it to grow and contract with the wearer, always resulting in the perfect fit, but never in such a way as to suddenly become loose.” The casual explanation had left Charity trembling in an apex of pleasurable erotic horror as she contemplated the implications. “Even if, many years from now, you were to grow fat…” Blue had joked, pulling Charity from her trance.
“You think I’m getting fat?!” Charity screamed. She delivered a sharp punch to her lover’s shoulder.
“Never,” Blue laughed.
But the horrific, yet utterly erotic, thought that lingered in Charity’s mind was that the time period of the application of the belt could be measured in years.
One particularly unique feature of the belt is that it was not just Charity’s burden to bear. The disk key which controlled the expandability of the belt was attached to its own ring of telescoping metal which could be drawn over Charity’s lover’s head and settled tightly around her neck. Wearing the key, thus, Blue had to kneel before her chastened lover to engage the lock. And, there the key would remain dangling from the metal collar that Blue would have to wear until they chose to couple the devices once more and be free of the wonderful toys.
While Charity could hide her deviance, Blue had to wear hers for all to see. And she did so proudly. “It’s a symbol of my love for Charity,” she would tell friends and coworkers as they puzzled over how it could be removed, wrapping her arms around Charity and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Perfect and whole.” Blue was bold and unburdened by any conception that her BDSM lifestyle was some sort of secret.
As perfect as the belt and key were, there was one huge drawback that limited the amount of time that Charity and her lover could play with them. The belt drove Charity’s arousal through the roof. Logic might suggest that the lack of access to her lady-parts would tend to shelve Charity’s libido. The actual result of wearing the belt, however, was nothing like that at all. Charity found her arousal would swell, each succeeding day more than before. Her engagement with the world around her slowly turned more to an erotic dreamscape filled with flittering distractions.
The longer she wore the belt, the more often Charity discovered herself unconsciously engaging in subtle acts of physical stimulation. Sometimes the acts were as simple as combing her fingers through her hair, pulling on her earrings or her lips, stroking her waist and abdomen. Sometimes the acts were even more overt - like cupping her breasts or rocking her legs open and closed, flexing her thighs together.
One day she even broke free from her reverie to discover that her hand was stroking her inner thighs, shielded from view by only a pad of paper meant to be used for taking notes. She had no recollection of the past ten minutes of her psychiatric patient’s discourse.
Reluctantly, Charity and Blue realized they had to schedule their denial play strategically in order for Charity to function to the degree that she preferred.
This was the first time that Charity had worn the belt for fourteen days, and she only did so because she had suspended all her sessions for the past week while working on an art project. But, fuck, she was ready to get the belt off now. In fact, she hoped to convince Blue to skip dinner and head straight home, so she could rip Blue’s clothes off and ravish her lover until the early morning hours.
But, Blue was late.
Charity tried to call Blue again, and when the ring tone rolled over to voicemail, Charity rechecked FamTrack - the display still lacking Blue’s avatar. She cursed under her breath - almost a half hour late.
She looked around the bar trying to distract herself. About half the tables were occupied. A couple who looked like a pair of WWE wrestlers sat at the table next to Charity’s. They were proportional, just seemingly constructed too large for this world. Most people were taller than Charity, but she swore that the woman likely took the space of two of herself - the man, probably three? The bartender was obviously more interested in something on her phone and a patron at the far end of the bar was staring expectantly waiting for her attention.
The TV was on mute showing the evening news. A banner at the bottom of the screen read, “Decorated woman discovered alive in suitcase” with the word “decorated” in quotes. The story showed the suitcase from various angles, both opened and closed, but no pictures of the “decorated” woman. Charity wondered if she was a military hero. Charity wondered if it was a sex game gone awry.
Fuck! Where was Blue?
Charity noticed that her knee was anxiously bouncing and stretched her legs out. The WWE couple stood up from the table, preparing to leave the bar. On the other side of the couple was a strange woman - her long, black, frizzy hair exploding from underneath a baseball cap. Below the rim of the hat, the woman wore visor sunglasses and a KN95 surgical mask leaving no bare flesh to the open air. She sat motionless - maybe she was asleep, but Charity couldn’t help but feel that the woman was staring at her behind the dark lenses.
The couple must have been big enough to create a breeze as they moved towards the exit. Charity’s cardigan which had been filling the space of Blue’s seat suddenly fell to the floor. Charity bent underneath the table to pick it up. A sleeve had somehow tangled itself around a chair leg, and it took a moment of tugging to get it free. When she sat up the freaky, frizzy-haired woman was standing right over Charity who barked out a small yelp of surprise.
“You dropped your phone,” the woman said, holding it out in a purple, yarn-mittened hand.
“Oh! Thanks. Err…I’m a little jumpy tonight. Sorry.”
The woman gave Charity her phone and then quickly walked out of the bar.
“Weird woman,” Charity muttered as she looked for any new cracks in the phone screen. “Then again, I’m the one locked in a chastity belt without the key.”
The TV news was now showing a picture of Ash Adams, a local woman who disappeared over a year ago - an erotic dancer. Her youth and beauty garnered a lot of exposure for the story but never any leads.
“Fuck! Where are you, Blue?” Charity unlocked her phone and opened the FamTrack app again. “Oh, thank the Goddess!” Blue’s avatar was displayed on the map, although some distance away still. She tapped the avatar and placed a call.
After three rings, an unfamiliar woman’s voice answered. “Hello, this is Detective Tumola, City PD.”
“Ummm…” Charity held the phone away from her face briefly to make sure she had called the right number. Meanwhile, a host of horrible possibilities began to take root in her imagination. “Uh. I’m looking for Blue Barclay?”
“Who is this calling?” the voice said.
“Is she OK? I’m looking for Blue. Where is she? She’s OK?” Charity asked.
“Yes. This is Charity. Is Blue ok? Did you say you are a cop?”
“Yes. Do you know where Ms. Barclay is?” the police woman asked.
“I thought she’d be with her phone. Where did you find her phone?”
“This is the phone that was in her car.”
“Yes, that’s Blue’s phone. Where was her car?” Charity was becoming frantic. She was not receiving information fast enough.
“We found her car at the corner of Jefferson and Pine.”
“The car was idling, and the doors were locked, but there was no one in the car.”
“How did you get her phone?!” Charity began pulling a $10 bill for a tip out of her purse, already determined to get to the police station as fast as possible.
“Her phone was in the car. Along with her purse and wallet,” the police woman said. “But, that’s not the strangest thing.”
“What!? Tell me what is going on!”
“Well… It’s like she got undressed and dumped all her clothes right there in the driver’s seat. Shirt, pants, shoes on the floorboard, with socks tucked in… undergarments… It’s like she just disappeared and left the car running in the middle of the road.”
“I’m coming down there!” Charity exclaimed, grabbing her cardigan and standing up.
“Please do,” the police woman was saying as Charity ended the call.
She took a step towards the exit, and then Charity’s phone beeped - a text message.
Charity looked at the screen: “1 new message from Keyholder”.
“Keyholder? What the fuck?” Charity opened the message, the world seeming to revolve around her faster than it should.
The message said: “I guess your cunt is mine now, bitch!”
“So, after a week, the best explanation that you’ve got is that she vaporized?!” Charity was not feeling particularly generous as she stood up from the visitor’s chair in Detective Tumalo’s cramped office. “What about the text message I received?”
Charity’s older sister, Faith, had accompanied her to the interview. “Shhh, baby,” she whispered. “Sit back down.”
“The text message says that it came from your own phone number,” the detective explained. “Numbers can be spoofed and it takes time to get information from the mobile carrier. There’s a process.”
Charity pressed a hand to her pounding head. She had been frantic all week - not sleeping - praying that she would hear from Blue - worrying about the fact that she was stuck in a chastity belt… She knew that Blue was out there somewhere. She just knew it. Faith helped Charity sit back in the chair.
“Here,” the detective passed a small envelope. Charity opened the seal and poured the contents into her palm: four pieces of jewelry. “Can you identify these?”
Charity felt tears begin to grow in her eyes. She had to take a moment before she could choke out a reply. “Yes. These two are studs for her ears. It’s her birthstone. I gave them to her last… Um… She wore this ring as a helix piercing.”
“On her left side?” the detective asked.
“And the last ring?”
“Uh… um… it was an inti…, an intra…, an intimi… Fuck!” Charity looked at Faith. “What’s the word I’m looking for? An intimidate…”
“Intimate, baby,” Faith whispered.
“An intimate piercing…” Charity said pointing down toward her crotch. “You know?” The detective nodded but said nothing. “Sorry. I haven’t been sleeping so well… ahem… How did you know…? How did you know that she wore the helix ring on her left side?” Charity asked.
“That’s the thing,” the detective said. “The way the clothes were laid out in the driver’s seat was like a cruel joke. Like Blue had just suddenly ceased to exist and everything she wore was left just like they would have been if worn by someone. Obviously, whoever did this had to have had an intimate knowledge of her piercings. That last ring was tucked inside the panties, for example.”
Charity looked off in horror trying not to fixate on the terror she imagined that Blue must have faced.
Faith suggested, “Whoever took Blue and removed her clothes would have seen where the jewelry was located.”
“Yes, but whoever did this could have only had seconds before another car would have passed by. Jefferson and Pine is a generally well traveled intersection,” the detective explained. “Charity, do you know if Blue was wearing any other jewelry?”
“Uh… I don’t think so…”
The detective nodded. “No necklaces or anything?”
“Well… uh… actually, she was wearing a solid, metal, choker-like necklace,” Charity glanced briefly at Faith who raised her eyebrows in shock.
“Are you sure?” the detective asked.
“Oh… yeah… She was wearing it.” Charity’s face was flushed. Faith tried to comfort her by stroking her back. Faith’s eyes wandered down towards Charity’s lap.
“I didn’t find anything like that in her car,” the detective explained.
“Hm,” Charity grunted.
“What do you mean when you describe something as ‘solid, metal, choker-like’?” Detective Tumalo asked, leaning forward in her chair.
“You know… it was pretty form fitting… like… one piece of metal … It has a round medallion dangling from a short chain on the front side…” Charity explained.
“How wide was this choker?” the detective asked. “Could it be described as a collar, do you think?”
“Uh… yeah… a collar… about an inch and a half wide.” Charity’s eyes were red. Faith leaned down and started digging through her purse which was sitting on the floor.
“These earrings are probably worth… what?… about a hundred bucks. Was this choker - this collar - expensive? Was it worth a lot of money?”
Charity felt a short, small pulse - a brief involuntary flex of her kegel muscles - beneath the chastity belt. Tingles radiated up her back. She made a short inhale of air.
Faith finally found what she was looking for - a packet of tissues. She gave one to Charity and whispered, “Here you go, baby.”
Charity shrugged her shoulders in answer to the detective’s question. “I’m not sure how much the collar was worth - it’s really well designed, but it’s not particularly ornate.”
“OK. I’m just going to ask… Was this collar, like, a BDSM style collar? Was it locked on? Something that would not have been easy to remove?”
Charity glanced at Faith for a moment, then back to the detective. “It was locked on. Blue could not take it off without the key.”
“Did Blue have the key to this collar?”
“Do you know who has the key?”
“I do.” Charity said.
“Are you sure that you still have the key?” Detective Tumalo asked.
“It’s in a safe place.”
“OK” Detective Tumalo sat back for a moment, glancing several times between Charity and her sister. “Do you happen to have a photo of the collar that I could see?”
Charity flipped through images on her phone until she found one with Blue wearing the collar and handed it over to Detective Tumalo.
“Is there a padlock?” the detective asked.
“No. It has an internal locking mechanism…”
“Can you text me this picture?”
“OK. Finally, I’d like to confirm the details regarding your movements around town that evening,” the detective said after a moment.
“Well, as I wrote in my statement, I arrived at the Clearwater Bar at about 6:20pm and got a drink from the bar. I sat there until a little after 7pm when I was finally able to call Blue’s phone and you answered it. Then I drove straight here to the station.”
“Are you sure about the times?” the detective asked.
“I’m positive,” Charity said. Charity’s hands had begun to flutter about anxiously - pressing against the tops of her thighs. Faith gently took Charity’s right hand and held it in her own.
There was a knock at the door. Before the detective could react the door opened and a woman with a bleached blonde buzz cut walked into the office.
“Oh! Hello, Tam!” the detective said. “Do you all know each other?”
Charity shook her head, no.
“This is Tam Fir. Tam, this is Faith and Charity McKenzie. Tam is my next interview.”
Tam smirked and looked at Charity, studying her from bottom to top.
“Tam was also in a relationship with Blue, I guess before…” The detective paused and looked between Charity and Tam. “Sorry… I thought maybe you knew each other.”
“Hm,” Charity grunted. “Tam? No… Blue never talked about any old relationships.”
“I’m not surprised,” Tam said, with a cruel smile. “Blue liked to keep her private life… under wraps? Locked down? I’m not sure how best to describe it. So, you’re her latest toy? That bitch was a complete control freak.”
“Hey!” Charity said.
“Come on, Charity.” Faith interjected. “Let’s go.”
They exited the station and got into Faith’s car.
“Oh, my god, Charity! Are you wearing that chastity belt? How are you going to get that thing off?” Faith asked.
“You know it won’t come off without the key… Regardless, it changes nothing. I have the same task. I must find Blue!”
Charity sat up in bed. Her heart was pounding. It was midafternoon and she had been napping, but she heard the distinct sound of glass breaking. …Or did she dream that? She had been in a deep sleep and now she was groggy and disoriented. She reached over onto the shelf of her nightstand, picked up a heavy claw hammer, and stepped out of bed. Except for the chastity belt, she was naked.
She stepped out of the bedroom and began looking from room to room, checking the windows. She went through the second bedroom, the hall bathroom, the living room, the kitchen… The front door was locked and bolted. Everything was in its place. She opened the door to the cellar and listened from the top of the stairs. There were no windows down there and with the sound-proofing… She closed the door and locked it. The sound must have just been something from a dream.
She returned to her bedroom to get a large t-shirt. As she was putting it on, her phone chimed - a text message. Her heart stopped for a moment - another message from “Keyholder”. She opened the message. The text only contained a minimized web address.
Charity didn’t want to click on the link. It might install some virus on her phone. She decided to type the address directly into her computer’s browser rather than click on it. After firing up her laptop, she entered the address, hit enter, and watched the browser forward to a different page. Some sort of audio player started up automatically - a white line on a black background that simulated a waveform when any sound played. The sound that was being played was Blue’s voice.
“Charity? It’s me Blue.” Her voice was a little higher than normal. Her words, tentative. She was obviously under duress somehow. “They want me to send you a message. They told me what to say. They. Or it. Or someone. I don’t know. I haven’t actually seen anyone since I’ve been locked in this room. This place.”
Charity placed her hand on the monitor screen as though she could reach through the internet.
“Oh… Fuck, Charity!! They’re watching you!” Blue was on the verge of tears. “They say that if you tell anyone about receiving this message, you will never… you’ll never hear from me… ever again. They say you can’t tell the police, or your sister, or your coworkers, or your lawyer… Nobody!”
“What? Strange…” Charity thought. “I don’t even have a lawyer.”
“Also,” Blue’s voice continued, “they say that they have prescribed you some medicine. They recommend that you take it. They say it will help you with your… your… I’m still wearing the collar, Charity! It’s still locked on my neck, which means that you are still locked up too… and the medicine is for your neuras… uh… neurasthenia… I think that is how you say that word. Sounds like something that you would know. They wrote the word on the wall… Anyway you have to take the medicine, Charity. Please… I love you. Please do what they say! We’ll figure this out! One last thing… You have to keep the medicine in the refrigerator. Oh, fuck, Charity! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorr-”
The recording ended. After staring at the screen for a moment, Charity clicked the refresh button on the browser hoping to hear the message - Blue’s voice - again. The browser only responded: “This site can’t be reached”.
Medicine? “Oh, fuck!” Charity exclaimed and jumped up from the desk, practically running into the kitchen. She threw open the refrigerator door causing a line of glass beer bottles to rattle. There on the top shelf was a large medicine bottle. The label only said “Charity. 5ml twice per day. Do not take with alcohol.”
Later that night Charity sat at her kitchen table staring at a medicine cup with 5ml of the mysterious prescription. ‘Neurasthenia’. Neurasthenia is an ill-defined medical condition characterized by lassitude, fatigue, headache, and irritability, associated chiefly with emotional disturbance. Yes. Those were her symptoms.
“I have nothing, if I lose my trust in Blue,” she thought.
She picked up the cup and drank every last drop of the medicine.
Several days later, Charity was feeling much better. Perhaps it was the medicine. Maybe it was simply that she had heard Blue’s voice in the audio message and by following her instructions she was advancing towards a resolution where she would be reunited with Blue once again. Certainly, she was sleeping much better.
The chastity belt was still locked in place, of course. And the arousal it brought about was extreme and sharp. But, Charity felt she was handling it. It wasn’t clouding her mind as much as it seemed to before. She even felt well enough to return to work.
“I’m glad that you are feeling better,” said Perit Huntington, the lead at Charity’s psychiatric practice. “Work will keep you in motion.”
“I believe so, too,” Charity agreed.
“Of course, my door is always open if you need to talk about how you are doing, OK?” Perit smiled. “I have some experience listening.”
Charity smiled, “I know. I’ll take you up on that.”
“Well… I’m glad that you’re back… something has come up and I have a special assignment that you are uniquely qualified for…” Perit stated as she took a sip of coffee. “Have you been following the news at all?”
“No, I couldn’t,” Charity frowned. “I have no idea what’s been going on, besides, you know… Blue.”
“Of course,” Perit said. “Well, about a week and a half ago, a woman was found locked in a suitcase. They call her the ‘decorated’ woman in the news.”
“Oh, yeah! I think I saw something about that the night…” Charity froze.
“Apparently, the suitcase was found during a routine scan at the regional airport. Totally freaked the TSA agent out! No one could figure out where the suitcase came from. It had proper tags, although the tags were for an origin and destination in Europe. How could the suitcase have gotten to a smaller domestic, regional airport like ours?”
Perit continued: “Anyway, they broke the padlock on the suitcase and found this woman totally crammed inside - and this was not a particularly big suitcase. But, she was alive and apparently no worse for wear. She was completely naked. Well… technically not, but…”
“Why do they keep calling her the ‘decorated’ woman?” Charity asked.
“Oh, my god! She is covered in tattoos and piercings and strange and somewhat cruel surgical implants, metal and chains - from head to toe. Her face, her boobs, her vagina - everywhere.”
“And, her eyes!” Perit visibly shivered. “They are… inhuman? The most mysterious thing is… No one can figure out who she is or where she came from.”
“Uh… can she speak? Or communicate somehow? What does she say?”
“She can speak but it’s not any language that we have been able to identify, yet,” Perit explained. “Anyways, obviously, she cannot function in a public setting right now, so she has been housed over at the asylum.”
“Yeah. I’m hoping, if you are up for it, of course, that perhaps you could have a session with her. See if you can break through somehow and figure out how to communicate with her.”
“Yes. Of course,” Charity said, “I’d love to try and talk with her.”
“Apparently, though, she wasn’t the only thing in the suitcase. They also found a journal of some sort that describes the fate of that missing stripper from last year, Ash Adams,” Perit continued.
“Do they think that this decorated woman had anything to do with Ash’s disappearance?” Charity asked. “Do you think that she has something to do with Blue?”
“If anything, she seems to be more of a victim,” Perit suggested. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up. People disappear all the time. However, by delivering this woman and this journal in a suitcase, it seems like Ash’s kidnappers want to play a game with the cops. And based on the way the cops found Blue’s clothes lying in her car like she just vaporized… Well… Her kidnappers seem to be playing a game too…”
“Have you read the journal?” Charity asked.
“No. I think the cops are analyzing it right now…”
Later that afternoon, Charity was sitting at a table in a bland, windowless room at the asylum. Two irritated-looking orderlies escorted a slight woman, one with a firm grip on her upper arm. The woman wore a black hoodie so big that it almost came down to her knees and the hood pulled up so far that her face was cast in a dark shadow from the flickering, overhead fluorescents. Over her legs, she wore dark gray scrubs, once again, baggy and so long that they covered her feet and dragged on the floor.
One orderly pulled out the chair opposite Charity’s while the other wordlessly and somewhat forcefully shoved the woman down onto the seat. She placed her arms up on the table as her chair was unceremoniously pushed up to the table. Her hands were tucked deep in the sleeves. The orderlies stepped back and stood by the door as though expecting an outburst of some sort.
Charity looked up at them. “I’ll be OK. You all can wait outside please.” She hoped that she was correct.
“Yes, ma’am,” one said. “Scream if you need us. She doesn’t like to be touched and she has a lot of particularly hard, sharp bits of metal embedded in her. And she’s not afraid to use them.”
“I understand,” Charity said. “Thank you.”
After the door closed, Charity took a moment to look at the woman sitting before her. They were about the same size. The table was wide enough to prevent a punch or kick from causing much damage. Charity leaned forward on the table and smiled. “Hello, they have told me that you do not speak English. Is that true?”
The woman sat motionless. Charity could see nothing of her face with the hood pulled up as it was. A dark metal chain necklace with small sturdy links rested against her chest - a blue jewel at the point where the strand from either side joined into a single chain which descended a few inches to a second jewel, also blue.
“Those jewels are striking. Very pretty,” Charity said. She wanted to project a sense of friendliness in her voice.
The woman suddenly began talking. Her voice was higher pitched - a little delicate. Soft. Charity did not recognize any of the words. It sounded as though she spoke with marbles in her mouth though that could just as easily be the way her language sounded. Interspersed within the vocalizations were tiny clucks, clicks, and popping sounds resulting in a very soothing though percussive rhythm to the woman’s voice.
“I like your voice,” Charity said and she smiled. The woman spoke again. Her head made small movements from side to side, up and down. She was apparently taking in her environment.
“Yes, this is a really ugly room,” Charity laughed. “Once we can figure out a way to communicate, we’ll need to get out into the gardens. I bet that you would like that.”
Charity slowly slipped her hand into her pocket. “Do you want a piece of candy? They are not much but I like to eat them.” She pulled out two pieces each individually wrapped and laid them on the table. “Are you familiar with this letter? The letter ‘A’?” she asked pointing to the wrapper where the candy company displayed their signature branding.
The woman was watching, at least the tilt of her hood seemed to suggest that she was.
“This is my favorite flavor,” Charity said as she picked up a piece and unwrapped the foil. She brought the candy to her nose and made a sniffing sound. “Strawberry. Mmm. It smells very good. Tastes even better. She popped the candy in her mouth. “Mmmm!” Charity smiled and rocked her head from side to side. “You have to suck it. It’s sweet. Do you want one?”
Charity pushed the second candy towards the woman. Nothing happened for a moment. Then there was a movement in the woman’s right sleeve. Fingertips poked out of the sleeve but then all movement stopped.
Charity looked down at the fingertips. At first she thought maybe the woman was wearing gloves - the same color as her necklace. Then she realized that her fingertips were covered in some kind of metal. They were more like thimbles. A tightly worn, smooth metal thimble on each finger. Could she remove them? Charity wondered.
“Oh. Here. Let me open the candy for you.” Bondage! If the woman could not remove the thimbles she probably would not have the dexterity to peel the wrapper. Charity felt a shiver go down her spine and a sudden involuntary kegel pulse deep beneath the plate of her chastity belt.
Charity unwrapped the candy and held it out in the palm of her hand. She was afraid that if she set it on the table the mysterious woman would be unable to pick it up with her capped fingers.
After a moment, the woman’s hand snaked a bit further out of the sleeve of the hoodie. The metal finger coverings extended up to the first joint of each finger. Basically, she had no fingernails. Some fingers also had a ring or multiple rings - each appeared too tight to slide past the girth of the metal fingertip coverings. Some of the rings were also anchors for tiny, jewelry chains that extended back towards the woman’s wrist.
The few places where the skin of her hand was not tattooed were a deep olive color. The designs that covered her hand were as intricate as the busiest henna tattoos, but decidedly more permanent.
Even with the candy cupped in Charity’s hand, the woman had some difficulty grasping it. Once she had it she tipped it up underneath her hood. Charity heard the woman sniff the candy - just as she had. Then with a flick of her wrist, the woman apparently popped the candy in her mouth. Charity heard a lot of clicking from the woman’s mouth like the hard candy bouncing off of teeth (perhaps?) as the woman sucked. After a second, though, the clicking stopped completely and the woman froze.
Charity held her breath, hoping that the flavor was ok.
“Mmmm!!” The woman began rocking her head from side to side just as Charity had with even more enthusiasm. “Mmmm!!”
“You like it?” Charity smiled. The woman had begun crunching on the candy.
Once the woman had calmed down and Charity felt she had her attention, she pointed to herself and said, “Charity. That’s my name. Charity.”
“Charity,” she said again.
The woman sat quietly for a moment… “Chai - ree,” she whispered.
“Yes! Charity!” Charity smiled. Then she pointed at the woman. “You. What’s your name?”
The woman pointed to herself. “Oh (pop) ee ay o tok (click) oh thu hye-th (pop) (click) ee an yo eh heat eh (click) un thorhina.” She pointed to herself enthusiastically - nodding her head.
“Wow!” Charity laughed. “That’s long. Let me try it. Oh..” She tried to make a popping sound with her lips like the woman had. “Oh (pop)…”
The woman nodded enthusiastically. “Oh (pop) ee ay o tok (click) oh thu hye-th (pop) (click) ee an yo eh heat eh (click) un thorhina.” She recited it a little slower this time.
“It’s going to take me a little while to learn that. Oh (pop)… What’s next?” Charity used her fingers to indicate something shorter. “Oh (pop)? Shorter.” She pointed at the woman. “Uh… Hope? Hope?”
The woman sat still for a second, then nodded and pointed to herself. “Hh-oe.” She pointed at Charity and said, “Chai ree,” then to herself, “Hh-oe.”
“Yes!” Charity raised her arms in victory. They knew each other’s names!
“Can I see your face?” Charity asked. She imitated folding back the hoodie and pointed to Hope.
Hope froze for a moment, then slowly raised her arms up and pushed back her hood.
Charity gasped and sat back in her chair. “Hooooly shit!”
Generally, Charity was much more professional. However, actually seeing Hope’s face, the face of the decorated woman, was so much more shocking than Charity could have ever imagined - a face both horrifying and exotically beautiful at the same time.
Charity quickly gathered herself by smiling and attempting to say “Beautiful!” But, the emotional response that Charity felt upon viewing Hope’s face had not yet finished with her. She felt a surge of arousal deep in her core, she felt her nipples pebble, and her face flush. As a result, the word she said was more whispered and morphed into a lustful “Ooooh!” by the time she made it to the last syllable.
Charity took a deep breath with her eyes closed to calm herself. When she opened her eyes again she looked across at Hope who seemed to be stoically staring back.
The most striking feature by far was Hope’s eyes. The entirety of the whites of her eyes had been dyed a striking shade of lapis blue - the color of the sky in the mountains on the clearest of days. In fact, the color was a perfect match for the two jewels that Charity had noticed before hanging from the necklace.
Except, the chain from which the jewels hung was certainly no necklace! The two ends of the chain emerged from piercings - narrow tunnels that were set widely on her chin and angled up below her lower lip into her mouth. The chain hung freely off the sides of her chin weighted by the two jewels.
Her face, like her hands, was a deep shade of olive. She had a series of narrow straight lines tattooed on her chin that ran upwards to varying heights - some ending at her full lips, some not quite. Most of the lines were somewhere between dark gray and black, much fewer were the same striking blue as her eyes. Her lips were arrayed, top and bottom with a line of blue dots that seems to shimmer depending on the angle of observation.
Each cheek had two swaths of war paint looking tattoos angling up from the boundary of her face towards her nose. These at first looked ragged and wild, but, upon a closer look were very precise - two shades of black with hints of lines in her signature blue. Two more thick war-paint-style lines descended from beyond her hairline down her forehead.
Her hair was thick and pulled back and away from her face into the sweatshirt’s hood - still half covering her head. The color matched her standard pallet - deep black with occasional streaks of lapis blue.
Then there were the chains… (Bondage! And Charity’s crotch clenched in splendid, lonely agony once again.) Two thin, but sturdy looking jewelry chains emerged from the thick hair on her head - one down each side of her forehead. The chain on each side was threaded through a ring pierced horizontally through her dark, thick eyebrow over the center of the corresponding eye. Still, the chain continued down, across her vision, through another ring pierced high on her cheek bone, and onwards until it terminated on the lower of two chains arrayed horizontally around her face.
This lower horizontal chain seemed to originate from each of her earlobes and ran across her upper lip. Not only was it supported by the two chains hanging down across her eyes, but also by two more tiny chains that ran directly up into each of her nostrils.
A thin bar burrowed through the knot of skin between her eyes at the top of her nose. The upper horizontal chains were connected to the endpoints of this bar, extending across the width of her eye, through rings at her temples and then on back into her hair. The vertical and horizontal chains that crossed her eyes were interlinked where they met right in the center of her vision, directly over a wide dark pupil surrounded by just a sliver of emerald green iris.
Small blue jewels were occasionally woven into the chains. Merely, the act of breathing made the jewels twist enough to reflect the light to and fro in such a way that it almost made her face seem to sparkle.
“You are so beautiful!” Charity said, having just about collected herself once more.
Her lips! Charity had to squint a little. The blue dots on her lips were not jewels or paint… They were narrow sharp spikes like tiny pins! Extending perhaps a quarter inch out and away from her face, so they would not cause her any damage. But, a kiss from her would maim the tender flesh upon which the kiss was placed.
Her lips! Still, Charity was drawn to them. They were a form of chastity like her own. She and Hope were sisters in chastity, not-to-be-touched. She and this decorated woman, this beautiful, fetishtic temptress, this lethal succubus, this demoness.
“Beautiful,” Charity whispered again.
“You seem to be holding up better - looking more rested… How are you?” Faith asked her younger sister. They were driving to the police station to meet with Detective Tumalo.
“I’m OK,” Charity said. “Medication helps.”
It had been three and a half weeks since Blue’s disappearance. There still seemed to be no leads as to who was responsible for Blue’s abduction, nor where she was being held. Additionally, Charity had received no further communication from Blue or her abductors.
“Patience,” Charity said to herself whenever she had a quiet moment and was starting to feel that drowning feeling again.
“So, have you gotten anywhere with suitcase girl? What did you say her name was?” Faith asked.
“She answers to ‘Hope’. It’s going slow. She seems very smart, but she doesn’t speak any English and we haven’t been able to identify whatever language she does know. Did you know that there are over 7000 spoken languages in the world? Also, she does not seem to be very familiar with modern technology… I’m wondering if she is from some sort of indigenous, primitive, isolated tribe or something.” Charity watched the city slip by through the rain-slicked windows of the car.
“According to the news,” Faith said, “besides your decorated friend, the only other thing in that suitcase was some kind of journal that documented what happened to that stripper woman who went missing a couple of years ago… Ash somebody. Have you seen that journal?”
“No,” Charity answered. “I assume that the police are studying that.”
“But, you think that the same people who took Ash also took Blue?” Faith asked.
“Hm… I don’t know…” Charity mumbled.
“Maybe this mystery Hope woman can help you figure out where she is?”
Charity drifted off into a spiral of worrisome thoughts.
“How are you… uh… doing, you know, down there?” Faith said, glancing briefly towards Charity’s lap.
“I don’t know… OK…” Charity mumbled. Tears started to form in her eyes. “Not OK, maybe. It’s getting worse.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t upset you.”
“My period is late… stress, maybe… medicine… which, I guess, is a win.”
“We have been over these details, like twenty times,” Charity said with growing irritation.
“Sometimes, people remember things about a particular event as time goes by - particularly if the event is stressful,” the detective said standing up from her desk. She had a folder in her hand. She walked around her desk and handed the folder to Charity. “Look at this.”
Charity glanced at Faith with a worried look in her eye, then opened the folder.
“The FamTrack application on Blue’s phone documents where Blue traveled and at what time,” Detective Tumalo explained.
Charity looked at a map of the city with a line indicating Blue’s progress from her campus office towards downtown on the evening she disappeared.
“Since you gave your permission, Blue’s FamTrack application also tracked your travels - well, at least those of your phone.”
Charity flipped the page to see the same image with an extra line progressing from their home.
“This can’t be right!” Charity said. “This shows that I drove right past the bar where I was waiting for Blue!”
“Yes!” the Detective said. “And it says that you were at the corner of Jefferson and Pine at the exact same time that Blue was. The exact location where her car was found abandoned five minutes later.”
“I wasn’t there!” Charity screamed. “This isn’t right! I was at the bar! I was sitting at the table waiting for Blue. There were witnesses there. I bought something. They served me a drink!”
“I talked to the woman who was bartending that night. She had no recollection of you being there,” Detective Tumalo said leaning over where Charity sat.
“She was fucking around on her phone so much. She wasn’t paying attention! This is bullshit!” Charity pulled her phone out of her purse. “Look! I’ll show you my track from my phone.” Charity opened her phone and clicked on the FamTrack app. Before the app could open, though, a hand reached out and covered the screen.
“I think that my sister cannot answer any more questions, right now,” Faith said.
“What!?” Charity screamed at her sister. “Blue is fucking missing, and you’re blaming me? I can prove…”
“You need to have a lawyer here with you, Charity,” Faith said.
“But, I’m innocent! I can show you!”
“I think your sister’s recommendation is a good one, Ms McKenzie,” the detective said. “I need to inform you that I have submitted paperwork to restrict you from traveling outside of the city limits. If you do so, you’ll be charged with a felony punishable by up to 3 years in prison. Once you have secured a lawyer, please have her contact me.”
“I don’t need a fucking lawyer. I need you to get off your fucking ass and find my girlfriend!” Charity screamed, standing up. Faith wrapped her arms around Charity, trying to calm her down. “Get your fucking hands off me, Faith! Dipshit here is suggesting that I abdu… abdi… that I… Fuck! I kidnapped my girlfriend! You know! You know, Faith, how fucking dumb that is! You know why!”
“Shhh… baby, I know. Come on, baby. Shh…” Faith said slowly pulling Charity out of the office. “There has to be a good explanation. This will all be cleared up…”
Later that evening, Charity lay on her couch in emotional turmoil while Faith was in the kitchen fixing some tea. Charity’s phone chimed - a text message from Keyholder: “Face the truth, slut. You almost had an orgasm when you thought you were going to be arrested today. It will be embarrassing when you tell this to your sister.”
Despite the fact that the Keyholder contact had Charity’s own phone number, Charity punched the reply button, and tapped out a response: “Where is Blue?!” She hit the Send button and her phone immediately pinged with a new message… “Where is Blue?!” She had sent the message to herself.
There was another ping. “Blue is nearby. Right now, she’s praying that you follow instructions. Me too. It hurts me to hurt her. Tell your sister about your near orgasm. Make sure to be explicit.”
Faith walked into the room with the tea. “Are you ok, baby?”
“I… I have to tell you something, Faith. And it’s really pretty fucked up…”
What follows is an entry from the “Ash Adams Journal” currently in police custody…
Journal Entry 1:
Subject: Ash Adams - p-FEAR Prep
The subject, Ash Adams, has been with us for several months now. We have confined her in Isolation Theater 3. She has seen no human being for her entire stay with us. We have the capability of rendering the subject unconscious in less than five seconds. When the subject is unconscious, we are able to maintain the subject, take measurements and perform diagnostic tests on her - sometimes we have even needed to feed her using a tube. Subsequently, over the course of time, the subject is still in optimal physical health.
The theater is a 20ft by 20ft room with only a single door sufficiently hidden to instill the sense in the subject’s mind that there is no way in or out of the room. The walls are white and featureless and the lights are kept on continuously. The subject is provided no sense of the passage of time.
The only piece of furniture in the room is a gynecological style medical chair which provides only a single comfortable configuration for the subject to rest. The configuration compels the subject to lie on her back with her legs apart in the provided stirrups.
On the backside of the chair is a steel toilet and attached food and water dispensary.
The subject is tethered to the room using four attachment points - both wrists and ankles. Right and left limbs are attached to opposite sides of the rooms. The variable length of the tethers provide a range of freedom such that the subject can traverse much of the room - preventing the touching of any of the walls. Alternatively the tethers may be shortened to the point that they restrict the subject to have no option other than lying in the gynecological chair.
The environment is designed to significantly reduce the subject’s mental acuity. The subject is conditioned and manipulated to maximize sexual arousal during their stay in the isolation theater.
My job is to monitor the subject while she is awake, mainly to ensure that she does not harm herself in any way. I monitor her using an array of cameras and microphones installed in Isolation Theater 3 as well as through contact sensors hidden within her tethers and environmental sensors installed in the theater’s furniture.
Ash Adams has now physically plateaued well within the set of ideal parameters, and her mental state has appropriately been recalibrated for her new role.
It is now time to begin the installation of her permanent Focus Equipment And Restraints (p-FEAR).
Dea Dammasch, aeternum amorem et obsequium meum spondeo.
It was eight o’clock in the evening and pitch black outside. Charity was at home and wide awake and she was completely certain what she had just heard - chains dragging across a polished surface.
“Fuck!” Charity whispered to herself.
The sound came from down in the cellar.
“Stupid fucking bitch,” she whispered to herself as she quickly crept into her bedroom and eased the claw hammer off the lower shelf of the bedside table. “This is where the heroine does something stupid in the movies.” She slid open the drawer and pulled out a key ring.
She moved quickly and silently back to the cellar door and slowly turned the door knob. The door was heavy but the hinges were well-lubricated. As she slowly pushed it open, it made no sound. Down below it was pitch dark. There were no windows down there.
There were also very few places to hide… The most defensible position was on the stairs. The lightswitch was in the hallway outside the cellar. She flipped it on and listened…
She started to creep down the stairs. “Here’s where the cellar door slams shut and locks,” Charity thought. “What the fuck are you doing?” She crouched down and looked around the room. Nothing in the gibbet cage. No one behind the St. Andrew’s cross. The lid to the oaken chest was standing open, so hiding inside would be difficult. Charity looked towards the rack, someone could hide on the far side.
“Strange,” she thought. Blue was pretty anal about how the equipment was configured between play sessions. It seemed that the wrist chains on the rack were payed out a little more than they should be. Generally, Blue would have left them fully retracted and the wheel locked.
Charity glanced up to the cellar door - still wide open… She looked down in her left hand. She had the key to get out of the cellar if the door was closed.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked herself as she moved further down the stairs with the hammer raised. She took one more look at the oaken chest - still empty - then tip toed towards the rack. The bed of the rack was angled at about 30 degrees. Someone could crouch in the shadows on the far side. Charity gripped the hammer with both hands. She quickly lunged the final step to provide a view into the area.
Nothing! Charity let out a heavy sigh.
Charity looked up towards the ceiling. “Fuck!”
She turned and ran on her toes to the stairs. The cellar door was still open. She went up, two steps at a time, through the cellar door, into the hallway. “Fuck!”
Someone was standing in her hall - their back to her. Charity raised the hammer and let out a scream. The person turned.
“Holy fuck, Charity!” Faith cried. “It’s me!”
“Oh, thank the Goddess!” Charity said, dropping the hammer on the floor and hugging her sister.
“You frightened me. I think I might have peed myself a little,” Faith laughed, stroking Charity’s hair.
“I thought I heard someone in the cellar,” Charity said. “Maybe it was you that I heard. You should have told me that you were coming.”
“What?” Faith asked. “You invited me over.”
“I did? When?”
“Your text message? An hour ago?” Faith pulled out her phone. “This message?”
Charity looked at the message, apparently from herself to Faith. “Can you come over, Sissy? Will you swaddle me? Just like we used to do?”
“I didn’t…” Charity started to say, but then thought better of it. She didn’t send this text. But, there were not many people who knew that Charity sometimes called her sister “Sissy”. And, as far as she knew, no one knew about Faith “swaddling” her. Indeed, public knowledge of their activity would be highly embarrassing…
A little family history… Charity’s parents had tried to get pregnant for many years. Eventually they gave up. Faith entered their lives as a 13 year old foster child. Miraculously, a year later, Charity’s mother became pregnant with Charity. It wasn’t long after Charity was born that her mother passed away. She had no memories of her mother at all. She only remembered Faith.
Growing up, when Charity was feeling particularly anxious, Faith would wrap her tightly in sheets or blankets - “Swaddled. Just like when you were a baby,” she would say. Initially, it was probably a selfish act - Faith was likely angry that she had to babysit an annoying, screaming brat. However, the wrappings really worked! They were like a huge hug that made Charity feel safe and loved. They always calmed her down.
When Charity was in her late teens after a particularly harrowing bullying event in high school involving a straight girl Charity was crushing on, Faith reintroduced the idea of “swaddling”, although several rolls of ace bandages were used in place of bedsheets. Charity loved the feeling so much that she would continue to ask Faith to “swaddle” her occasionally. Over time, she found that the more restrictive the wrapping, the better. For the McKenzie sisters, “swaddling” had become a euphemism for some technically stringent, highly restrictive, hardcore, yet platonic, mummification.
“I didn’t…” Charity started again.
When she saw the text that she had apparently sent Faith, she was particularly perplexed. If she didn’t send the text, then the kidnapper - Keyholder - must have sent it. How would they know about “swaddling”? Did Charity ever tell Blue about it? Maybe in a moment of ecstasy? Had the kidnapper’s extracted the information from Blue? And, if so, how? Did they torture her?
“Of course, you sent the text, Charity,” Faith said with a concerned look on her face. “Are you sure that you are doing ok?”
“No,” Charity said quickly. “I mean, I didn’t know that you would be over so soon…”
“Oh! Do you still want to do it?”
“Yeah! Yeah!” Charity said turning to close the cellar door and switch off the light. “I could use a good swaddling.”
About an hour later, Charity was standing in the middle of her and Blue’s king size bed wearing only her chastity belt. Faith sat at the end of the bed with a large duffle bag of equipment, pulling out rolls of bandages. She stopped for a moment and looked up at Charity’s belt.
“That is a beautiful belt… It’s so sleek,” Faith said. She reached up and touched the center of the faceplate shielding Charity’s sex. “So smooth.” She rapped a knuckle on the metal - knocking the plate twice.
Charity gasped suddenly and her right knee started to buckle a little.
“Whoa! Did you feel that?” Faith asked.
“Yes. No. Not at all,” Charity said, breathlessly giggling a little. “You made a knocking sound. And that sound traveled through the air to my ear, where it was converted to an electrical signal and was transmitted to my brain. Then my brain sent a pulse straight down to my sex.”
“Wow,” Faith said. “What a torturous path…”
Charity closed her eyes and hugged herself for a moment, letting the arousal wash over her.
“How tight?” Faith asked as she picked up a pair of foam pads to slot between Charity’s ankles and knees.
“As tight as you can,” Charity whispered.
Faith was very diligent in her wrapping technique. When she was done, Charity lay in the middle of the bed, arms pinned to her sides, legs welded together. Only her feet and the tip of her nose were exposed. Charity had a mouthpiece with grooves for her teeth and a tube. While it was easy to breathe, Charity couldn’t really speak at all.
“Okay, baby. All done,” Faith said.
Charity’s sex was still ringing from the taps that Faith had delivered. It trembled with arousal. Charity systematically flexed her muscles starting at her toes and moving up to her head - relaxing as she went. There was very little give in the wraps. Afterwards, she lay as still as she could. Slowly the arousal, which had been so completely focused on her sex, began to spread out away from her sex in all directions. The intensity remained as high, but now the sensations pulsed from head to toe. Charity felt like she had become a huge clitoris - trembling, needy, yet with no agency to achieve any relief.
She needed some sort of external stimulation to push her over the edge. But she was locked behind a steel plate and no touch would ever be allowed.
“Hey, baby, I’m going to go watch the late show, then I’ll come back and unwrap you, ok?” Faith whispered in her ear.
A muffled whimper was apparently enough of a response. The bed shifted and Charity lay alone, her physical being transformed into pulse energy.
Slowly, Charity fell asleep.
When she awoke, she could still feel the pulse of energy vibrating up and down her body. But there was something more… a caress… and gentle squeeze… Was Faith stroking her torso? Charity tried to call to Faith through the air tube wedged in her mouth, but she was too relaxed to effectively make a sound. Charity knew that “hypnopompia” is the name of the condition - the state of consciousness leading out of sleep.
Suddenly, there was a pinch - a sharp, painful sting - on the upper side of her right breast. This was too intense for hypnopompia! Charity tried to move or scream or anything.
A cool sensation flooded into her chest slowly diffusing across her torso which was still abuzz with vibrations. The pain was gone. Charity’s panic evaporated. She forgot she was lying in bed and began to, once again, dream…
Charity was being shaken. The air felt cold on her slick torso. She slowly opened her eyes. She felt so groggy. She wasn’t sure where she was. Faith was sitting beside her, pulling off the blankets. Her mouth was moving and sound was coming out, but Charity didn’t understand a single word she was saying.
“I’m so sorry, Charity. I fell asleep watching TV. It’s about four in the morning. Poor baby! You’re still asleep aren’t you.”
Faith pulled the mouthpiece out of Charity’s mouth. Charity wondered why the blankets were so tight. “Oh yeah, they are bandages.” Goddess, she could use a fuck right now. So horny. Where was Blue? Faith was still making nonsensical sounds.
“You’re not overheated are you? Wow! Your nipples are red and swollen. Here, baby. Lie back down and I’ll unwrap your legs.”
Blue is not here? She’s been kidnapped. Charity had to go find Blue. Charity had to go save Blue. Tomorrow morning. And Blue has the key to the chastity belt locked around her neck.
“Are you awake, baby? I’m so sorry. Oh! You’re so tired. Lie back down. Go back to sleep.”
Blue has the key. She couldn’t give it away even if she wanted to. It was locked around her neck. No way to take it off. Not as long as her head was attached to her body. Charity tried to make her mouth work. She wanted to tell Faith that they needed to find Blue right away. How could she be so scared, so horny, and so sleepy all at the same time?
Faith was leaving the room. She was turning out the light. Charity was so horny…
When Hope was led into Charity’s makeshift office at the asylum in the middle of the next week, she was restrained in a full set of heavy prisoner shackles. Her hands were cuffed and locked close to a waist chain. Another chain descended from her wrists to the central link of a set of ankle fetters.
“What the hell is the meaning of this?” Charity asked the orderly.
“She has a tendency to become violent,” the orderly said. “She sent one of her handlers to the hospital last night with a severe laceration the full length of his forearm.”
“This is ridiculous! You all need to remove all these restraints, please,” Charity said.
“No can do, Ma’am,” the orderly said.
“Well, you have to release her hands at least,” Charity said. “In order to communicate with our guest, we have to use a lot of hand gestures. And, I should remind you that she IS just a guest. She is not a patient here. Unlock her handcuffs please.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” the orderly said.
Hope’s ankle fetters were so tight, that the bottoms of her sweat pants were bunched up, and for the first time, Charity saw Hope’s feet. She wasn’t wearing any shoes. Just as with her fingers, the end of each of her toes was fitted with a metal thimble-like cap. Many of the toes had rings and some rings had chains that draped across the top of her tattooed foot towards her ankles.
When the orderlies had placed her in the chair across the table from Charity and left the room, Charity finally smiled, “Hi, Hope.”
“Hi, Chai-Ree,” Hope said.
“I’m sorry about the treatment that you are receiving here,” Charity said, frowning and pointing toward the door. She knew Hope had no idea what she was saying, but the woman must have understood something. She started talking with her standard soft, delicate voice, but in a much more animated fashion, several times pointing to her chest and then over her shoulder to the door.
She held her right palm wide open over her right breast, then used her left hand to forcefully push her right hand away. She pointed at her lips and breasts, then drew an imaginary line up the length of her forearm.
“Did they touch you?” Charity asked. She pointed to Hope’s right breast, then actually grasped her own. “Ahhh!” she moaned, shocked at how sensitive her nipples were. Charity hadn’t meant to moan, but Hope was nodding and pointing at Charity and pointing towards the door.
“Assholes!,” Charity said, straightening out her blouse. “Alright, we’ve got to get you out of here.”
Hope seemed to be settling down.
Charity dug through her purse looking for some more hard candies. They seemed to be a good prop for many things, most notably building an environment of goodwill with the mysterious woman.
“Crap,” Charity muttered. She only had licorice flavored candies left - the one flavor of which she was not so fond. She set them on the table and picked one up and sniffed it dramatically, then held her nose and made a “blech” sound.
“Do you want one?” she asked Hope.
Hope nodded her head, so Charity unwrapped the paper and placed the candy in Hope’s palm. Hope quickly tossed the candy in her mouth and started sucking vigorously. After a moment though, she stopped and her eyes squinted.
“Thplech!” The candy flew out of her mouth and bounced across the table. Hope started using both hands to apparently try to scrape the taste off her tongue which made a lot of clicking noises and her face chains were ringing. Somehow she avoided cutting herself on the pins mounted in her lips. “Wuh-llla!”
“Here. Have some water!” Charity said, sliding a cup over towards Hope.
The decorated woman picked up the water and guzzled down about half the contents, some of it streaming down her chin and along the chains mounted from her bottom lip. Finally, she put the cup down with a final “bleh!”
Hope looked up at Charity who had watched the whole scene with a look of horror. But, Hope just smiled and started laughing. Charity was so relieved she began laughing as well.
“No more of these,” Charity said, and swept the remaining candies off the table and they bounced across the room, making Hope laugh all the more. “Bleh!”
Finally, after they settled down, Charity pointed to her own eye. “Can I look in your mouth?” She finished by pointing at Hope’s mouth. Charity held her mouth open to illustrate her request.
Hope pointed to her chest, “Meh?” Then, somewhat hesitant at first, she opened her mouth for Charity to look inside. Indeed, there was a sizable ball sitting atop a stud through her tongue. Charity could also see the chains that pierced each side of her lower lip. They stretched up to some mounts on the outside of Hope’s upper jaw. Near the mounts, teeth had been removed to make room for metal struts angled toward the roof of Hope’s mouth.
Charity took out her phone and turned on the flashlight to get a better view inside. The light reflected off an array of chrome hardware inside. She could not even theorize as to the purpose of the hardware.
“Who did this to you?” Charity asked. Randomly pointing at Hope’s mouth. “Who?”
Hope gathered the chains and jewels that hung from her chin. “Who?” she mimicked.
“Yes. Who? And why?”
Hope raised her hands to her head - the heels of her palms near her temples and her fingers pointed up. “Day ah bru bah (click).”
“Day abru…?” Charity tried to repeat.
Hope nodded her head vigorously. “Day ah bru bah (click).”
Hope pointed at Charity and then herself.
“You and me?” Charity guessed.
Hope waved her hands up and down making an hourglass shape.
“A woman? Woman?” Charity asked, doing the same with her hands.
Hope nodded. “Wu mahh. Wu mahh. Ay ma (click) oo may ah. Wu mahh.” She held her hands up again by her temples. “Oh so ay ma (click) oo may ah hhye eets (click) oh ah. Hhye eets (click) oh ah!” She made an hourglass hand signal again and then pointed straight up briefly before pounding her right fist into the palm of her left hand. “Hhye eets (click) oh ah! Day ah bru bah (click)!”
Charity was at home one evening when she received a text from Keyholder - a minimized URL. She ran to her computer (which had much better speakers than the phone) and she typed the URL into her browser which eventually displayed a single Play button.
“Charity, my love! I have been instructed to create a voice message for you again. I love you! I love you! And since I’m making this message that must mean that you are safe and well.
“They say that I should tell you about how I am being held captive. There isn’t much to say, really. I’m in a very nondescript room. No windows. No doors. There must be a door somewhere though.
“There are four chains; one for each limb and the attachment points are spread out in such a way that I can’t reach any of the walls. The chains make a lot of racket when I move around. It’s almost the only thing that I ever hear. I still have never seen anyone.
“There’s a chair mounted in the middle of the room. It doubles as a bed with stirrups so I can lie back and sleep. I refused to even sit in it at first. Some kind of rebellion, I guess. Whatever. They didn’t seem to care, so I gave that up after a while.
“There’s a toilet and two pipes - one for drinking and one has this tasteless mush which, I guess, is food.
“That’s about all there is to say about my cell.
“The boredom is killing me - my mind. I sit and think about you. I’m naked, but I’m still wearing the collar. I guess even they don’t know how to take it off. I scream at the walls - telling them that I can get it off by seeing you and then I’d let them do whatever to me. I’m so worried about your… Well, you’re as stuck as I am and it’s all my fault,” Blue voice cracked a little, she was trying not to cry.
“They never answer me though, I just see messages projected on the wall in front of me. Occasionally, I hear a voice though. But, I think the voice is just a parrot. It says, ‘Go to sleep. Go to sleep.’
“I think they are drugging me. I don’t always remember falling asleep, but I often wake up freshly cleaned. If I refuse to eat, I wake up not hungry. I once tried to bruise myself with one of the chains, just to see what would happen… But the next thing I knew I was waking up from a dream… I haven’t had my period, but surely I’ve been here for several months! I noticed my hair is getting shorter. Maybe time is moving backwards…”
There was a popping sound, the voice message ended, and the play button disappeared…
“This site can’t be reached.”
After listening to Blue’s voice message, Charity could not sleep all night. She worried about some of the strange things that she had said - communication coming from a parrot? - time moving backwards?. She could not imagine her lover being locked in a room with no human contact for a month. How was she going to maintain her sanity?
As the night went on, Charity’s thoughts became more and more dark. And as fatigue began to settle in as well, her imaginings became more and more surreal.
She awoke in the morning wearing only her chastity belt, her own hands plastered to her breasts which ached in such a way that only gentle caresses could sooth. She had been dreaming that she was kissing Blue, but Blue had a huge stud in her tongue. Then she realized that she was actually kissing Hope in the dream and she pulled back and found that she - herself - was the one with a huge tongue piercing - and that realization made her cum. Unfortunately, that, too, was just part of the dream. Her libido was still stuck in overdrive.
Later that day she was walking through town after a session with a client when she came upon Detective Tumalo and Tam Fir, who was supposedly Blue’s previous girlfriend (although, Blue had never mentioned Tam before.) They were sitting at a table outside a cafe, drinking coffee. Needless to say, the encounter was particularly awkward.
“Tam has been just telling me that you have been sending her threatening text messages,” the detective said to Charity.
“What?! I don’t even know her. Why would I send a threatening text message to her?”
The detective shuffled some papers around and started reading. “‘Tell us where Blue is or you will be the next city resident to disappear.’” The detective scanned further down the page, “‘If you keep telling lies, I will seal your mouth so you can never talk again!’ These texts have been coming from your phone number, Charity,” the detective said.
“I haven’t sent anything to her! You know that my number has been being spoofed!” Charity said. “I’ve even switched to a new phone.”
The detective looked further down the page. “Is your new number 867-555-5309?”
“What?” Charity asked, turning a bit pale. “How did…?”
“That explains this second number, here,” the detective said, showing the piece of paper to Tam. “These texts are also from a phone owned by Ms McKenzie.”
“I’m not sending anyone texts. I don’t know or even care about this woman,” Charity said, pointing to Tam. “My concern is finding my girlfriend, Blue Barclay, who has been missing for over a month now. And you have no leads at all!”
“Ms McKenzie, I am concerned about Ms. Barclay’s disappearance, but she is also a 32-year-old woman. Her car was found in the middle of the road and you have made the claim that she is missing. In order to follow a lead I need some sort of evidence that something criminal has taken place - a body, a ransom, evidence of a struggle - anything! For all we know, Ms. Barclay is lounging in some tropical beachside village, sipping fruity drinks with tiny parasols shoved in them.”
Charity was so stunned she merely stood with her mouth hanging open - her frustration causing tears of anger to start to ooze from her eyes.
“On the other hand,” the detective continued. “Sending harassing text messages to someone IS, in fact, a crime. If Ms. Fir decides to press charges, I suggest that you secure yourself a lawyer. In fact, even if she doesn’t press charges, as I’ve told you before, you should probably find appropriate legal representation!” The detective looked at her phone. “Excuse me, I’ve got an incoming call…” She stood up and walked into the cafe.
Charity looked at Tam. “Look, you have to believe me, I have no feelings of ani.. animos… anonymah… No feelings of anger towards you. I just have to find Blue. I love her and she’s missing!”
Tam looked up at Charity, then down towards Charity’s crotch. “I don’t think you know how dangerous that bitch, Blue, is.”
“Huh?” Charity asked.
“She and I played BDSM games too. She became cruel. The BDSM community is not that big in this city. There’s no secret that you have taken my place as her favorite toy. She wanted me to… wear things… for extended periods of time… bondage things. At first it was fun, but she always wanted more. Sometimes I would beg her to release me, but she always convinced me to wear shit just a little longer. But then… that shit somehow started to affect me… fuck with my mind somehow… It confused me… It was starting to… to… I don’t know… seriously affect me… mentally! Still Blue wanted me to wear it. That is when I knew I had to break up with her. She’s dangerous, Charity,” Tam continued. “I hope you’re not locked up somehow. I wouldn’t put it past Blue to conveniently disappear and leave you somehow stuck. Just to see how it affects you. She doesn’t love you, Charity. She’s not capable of love. You’re just a research subject.”
“I have no fucking idea what you are talking about,” Charity said, working hard to not look down at her captive, pulsing sex. “I’m sorry that you are receiving threatening texts. They are not from me. Otherwise, I don’t know what you are talking about. I have to go.” Charity turned and started to walk down the sidewalk.
Journal Entry 2:
Subject: Ash Adams - p-FEAR Installation
Wrist and Ankle Restraint Cuffs
It took no time for our subject, Ash Adams, to discover her newly installed wrist and ankle cuffs upon awakening from her latest sleep cycle. Previously, the fetters used to maintain the subject in Isolation Theater 3 were tight but still allowed a minimal degree of slippage. These new cuffs have been manufactured specifically for the subject and fit the shape and contours of her physiology perfectly.
Indeed, the manufacturing process is one of the leading reasons we have chosen to perform subject extractions at this particular time and place. We use expensive state of the art technologies to create these restraints.
The fetters are generated in two separate parts using 3D titanium printing techniques which produce components manufactured to a tolerance of +/- 2 microns. Sandwiched within the layers of titanium are micropackets of three chemical compounds which, alone, are inert however produce a slow acting form of homogeneous dilative crystalline corrosion when combined.
Each half of the restraint contains a series of plug and socket connectors. The plug portions from one half are slotted into the socket portions of the other. The structure of these connection points allow for millions of microscopic grooves to interlock, preventing backslide even under multi-tonnage loads. The friction created by the coupling of the two parts compromise the seals of the micropackets releasing and intermixing the compounds which leach into cavities in the lattice of the metal substrate. The dilative crystal growth will conjoin the various components of the fetters into a single, high strength entity.
The result of this manufacturing and installation process is a sleek, solid, seamless, three inch wide metal cuff with two universally mounted attachment rings.
Upon awakening the subject spent some time examining the restraints and attempting to manipulate them in some way. She was quick to identify that there were no locks, no keyholes, and no seams. Her deduction that these devices were permanent restraints was confirmed by a rapid escalation in arousal signatures typical of an individual conditioned for extreme sexual responses to physical bondage.
Shortly after the point of deduction, the subject achieved a series of orgasms with the following measures on the Lamda Dammasch scale: 6.7, 7.2, 6.1, and 4.3. Even now, over six hours later, the subject remains reclined in the gynecological chair, apparently mind-adrift in a post orgasmic haze.
We endeavor to maintain these highest quality and long lasting material standards for all of our subject’s additional future bondage installations as well.
Dea Dammasch, aeternum amorem et obsequium meum spondeo.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” The owner of Charity’s psychiatric practice, Perit Huntington, was standing in the parking lot of the asylum with Charity waiting for the orderlies to bring the decorated woman out.
“Most definitely,” Charity said.
“But are you going to be safe?” Perit asked. “She sent one employee to the hospital. All the other employees are calling her ‘The Demoness’. What if she tries to hurt you?”
“I have a ra… a rapp.. I think that she and I understand each other,” Charity said. “Besides, she is not an inmate. If she doesn’t want to stay with me, I’ll help her find a place for herself.”
“OK. Well… remember, she apparently does not like to be touched. She seems to prefer smoothies over any kind of food that must be chewed. If she growls, get away as fast as you can. And, god forbid, don’t approach her jewelry chains with a pair of bolt cutters!”
Charity gave a short laugh, “I’m not going to try and manage her jewelry for her.”
Perit’s face turned a bit more serious. “Any news about Blue?”
“No!” Charity mumbled. “They don’t have any leads, so instead they seem to have decided that I am the person who needs to be investigated… Such bullshit… But, that reminds me, didn’t you say that you have a friend who is a lawyer? I think I better get one.”
“Sure! Yeah! I’ll have her give you a call,” Perit said. “Oh! They’re bringing her out now.”
“Hope. She answers to the name Hope,” Charity said. “Oh, fuck! Why do they still have her in those prisoner shackles?”
“That’s just the asylum policy for anyone considered violent,” Perit explained. “I’ve told them that you will take a set of restraints.”
“Hi, Chai-Ree!” the decorated woman said, cheerily.
“Cherry?” Perit whispered. “Well… I have never seen her smile before, so, yeah, you seem to have some sort of rapport with her.”
“Rapport,” Charity confirmed.
The orderlies removed the wrist and ankle cuffs and Hope’s waist chain. Charity tossed the restraints into the trunk and motioned for Hope to sit in the passenger seat of her car. “Think she’ll be ok without a seatbelt?”
“Just don’t let Detective Tumalo see you,” Perit joked. “Please be careful.”
“And this is where you will sleep,” Charity said pointing at the bed, then pointing at Hope and finally placing her palms together and laying her face against them with her eyes closed.
Hope smiled and nodded her head. The jewelry chains passing through her lower lip and ending in a pair of jewels bounced and swung in the air. She stepped over the window and looked out. She spoke in her delicate voice in her beautiful native tongue with its pops and clicks for a moment. Then she turned to Charity and held up her hand palm open. She looked up to her raised hand and flicked her fingers outward (with a light rattle of chains), her eyes closed and a small smile formed on her lips that made her face look innocent and content, “Ee lah (click) ee ah.”
Hope had a very beautiful face and Charity could not help but stare and be mesmerized. She felt a feeling swell inside her body. This feeling was not centered around her crotch which, as of late, had been dominating the direction and use of all of Charity’s endorphins. But instead, the feeling was centered around her heart.
“It’s a much better view than what you had at the asylum. We can go out in the yard for a walk. Oh! I also have some different clothes here, in case you are tired of wearing that hoodie” Charity held up a set of her own silk pajamas. She wasn’t sure why she had chosen pajamas, but they seemed to be the largest contrast to the heavy material Hope was currently wearing.
Hope looked at the clothes and smiled and nodded her head. She pointed at the pajamas and then pointed at her clothes. Then very delicately, she reached for the hem of the hoodie and began to pull it up.
“Oh!” Charity said. “Let me give you some privacy. I’ll just… I’ll just step out…” But Charity did not move. She was mesmerized by the chains and jewels and designs drawn into Hope’s skin as it was slowly revealed.
Hope was very careful about raising the hem up over her breasts, pulling the material away from her body as she did, like she might have some sort of wound that friction would aggravate. With the hem suitably raised, Hope bent forward, flipping the hood over her head and pulling up on the back of the garment.
“Do you need some help?” Charity asked, but remembered Perit’s warning to not touch the small woman.
In due course, Hope pushed the hoodie off her body with a series of light jangling sounds. For a moment, Hope was bent forward, her body hidden by the curtain of long brown / black hair with its occasional blue highlights. But then, in a single graceful move, she straightened up, her hair arching over her head like a black flame in a gale.
Hope stood before Charity topless, smiling and breathing an audible sigh.
Charity’s mouth was hanging open as she took in all of Hope’s decorations.
Hope seemed to be enjoying the moment. She spread out her arms to each side - wrists wrapped in tight metal cuffs. When she did, thin chains dangled beneath her arms like wings - some chains looping from piercing to piercing along the length of her arms, some chains dipping and rising again to some attachment point behind her back.
She also had a tangle of jewelry wrapped around her neck, mainly set with lapis stones, continuing the color scheme that dominated her face and eyes. Some of the chains were obviously strung tightly about her neck, others were longer and were weighted by jewels and crescents so they hung between her breasts.
Hope was not hugely endowed. She did not require a lot of support for her breasts. But, here, her modifications drifted into the realm of horror. Her nipples were a dark brown and her areolas were not particularly big. They were spotted with lapis coloration, and when Charity looked closer, she realized that just like Hope’s lips, her flesh was riddled with a forest of nasty, thin spikes. It was immediately clear why a mischievous touch would send one to the hospital with lacerations. Her nipples were not to be touched.
Charity felt herself clench beneath the shield of metal covering her sex. Arousal once again regained domination over more heartfelt sensations within Charity’s body.
Mounted further up each breast, perhaps with her nipple as the center, was a circle of blue metal affixed in some fashion. That is, the blue metal did not merely lay upon her flesh - more likely, it was integrated into her flesh - somehow cauterized there perhaps. Small rings around the blue metal circle provided attachment points for thin chains which framed and, perhaps, held Hope’s breasts like a delicate bra.
Hope’s waist was dominated by a particularly intricate tattoo mainly framed by woven celtic style knots. Within the weaving at regular intervals, were line art renderings of a particular woman character, laid out perhaps to tell a story. In some of the images, the character was accompanied by a twisting horned serpent, sometimes, she was accompanied by a second woman, sometimes she was alone. In all, she was tattooed, pierced, and mounted with chains to stark stone walls like a medieval castle’s dungeon.
A heavy ring apparently cauterized into the flesh circled her belly button and a thin chain descended, overlapping the waistband of her sweats and carrying down further to the parting of her legs. At the termination of this particular chain was a metal thimble, much like those covering Hope’s fingertips. It swung slowly back and forth with each breath Hope took.
Hope slowly lowered her arms. Charity finally snapped out of her reverie when Hope reached out and gently touched Charity’s blouse with a single, metal tipped finger.
“Well, I guess it is only fair. You show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” Charity said. She noticed that her fingers were shaking as she slowly unbuttoned her blouse. She peeled it off and let it drop to the floor. She reached behind her back and unclipped her bra, letting that slide down her arms as well.
Hope smiled and stood still, watching the whole time. The ache of arousal that Charity felt in her chest was almost unbearable. Her whole body was trembling. She started to become conscientious and raised her arms a little, wanting to cover her breasts.
Hope spoke. Her rhythmic dialog was soft and friendly. She reached out and softly touched Charity’s nipple. The feeling was electric and Charity gasped - her breasts jiggling in response. Hope lowered her hand, sliding her metal fingertip down Charity’s abdomen making Charity shiver under an explosion of goosebumps.
Suddenly Hope froze, she was staring at Charity’s left hip. Charity looked down and noticed that the arched top of her chastity belt was peaking out above the top of her pants. Hope moved her finger towards the exposed metal, but Charity stepped back, “No! I don’t want you to see that!” Charity suddenly realized that she was crying - tears started pouring down her face. She turned and ran from the room.
Later, Charity was sitting on the couch wearing a robe when Hope walked into the living room. Hope was still topless. Hope started speaking softly and gently, she kept her distance. Charity was holding a photo in her lap which she held out for Hope to see. “This is me and my girlfriend, Blue. My lover,” she said pointing.
Hope took the photo carefully in her hands and looked.
Charity pointed to herself. “Charity.” She pointed to Hope. “Hope.” Then she pointed to the photo. “Blue.”
“Blueh,” Hope repeated.
“She is my lover,” Chastity said. “My lover.”
“Luh fer?” Hope repeated. She spoke at length about something and Charity sat and smiled, nodding. Then Hope held up a finger and waved her hand in a circular motion.
“No,” Charity said. “She’s not around. She’s gone. She’s gone right now.”
Hope handed the photo back to Charity. She placed a hand on Charity’s shoulder for a moment and then walked to a chair and sat with a rattle of chains.
The next morning Charity received an email from Detective Tumalo.
“My office was broken into and ransacked overnight. Whoever did it seemed to have succeeded in bypassing all the security measures in the office. They did leave a note, a photo of it is attached. Do you have a lawyer yet? Once you do, have them call me as soon as possible.”
The attached message was typed out on a white piece of paper:
A tEnder SONg of loVe fOr My deAR chAritY
HAmmer a SpiKe iNtO the stoNe
Of THe drEaRy dark Dungeon WhErE yOu sHAll Be thrOwN
raCk crAcK waRtEnberG WhEEl TInE
Ill SUtuRe yOur mOUTh aNd yoUr SCrEams wILl be mIne
Journal Entry 3:
Subject: Ash Adams - p-FEAR Installation
Breast and Nipple Access and Stimulation Restraint Hardware
In an archway, the keystone is the stone at the apex of the arch, which, during construction, is the final piece placed that locks all the stones into position. The breast bondage that our subject, Ash Adams, has received uses an analogous concept. It is made of a myriad of small, hard, black shell-like bits of composite (for Ash - over 200 pieces, for example). And it is the placement of the final piece that triggers the intertwining locking mechanisms to engage.
Every one of these individual shells has been specifically designed for specific placement on the subject’s anatomy. The application of the restraint is performed in two lengthy sessions. First, the subject is anesthetized. Narrow, shallow, barbed pins are then inserted into the flesh at precise points. Each pin has a rounded head to which a shell may be affixed.
The gynecological table in Isolation Theater 3 has locations where portions of the backrest may be disengaged. By strictly binding the subject to the chair access is provided to the entirety of the restraint area.
Once all the pins have been pierced into the subject’s flesh, we prefer to revive the individual. Mirrors are set around the subject to allow her to see, intimately, the operation that has been performed thus far. Knowledge of the various aspects of the permanent Focus Equipment And Restraints (p-FEAR) installation improves the efficiency of the manipulation of the subject’s mental state which, in turn, reduces the possibility of rebellion or self harm.
When Ash was revived she reacted precisely as expected. Her breathing and heart rate increased and shortly afterwards a few tears were detected dripping from her face. She had been gagged with an inflatable panel gag only lightly filled which allowed her a degree of vocalizations but no particular communications. Regardless, a vaginal probe’s vibration feature was activated and set to a low amplitude. Correspondingly, any moans of despair were soon converted to those of arousal verified by an uptick in dopamine levels in the subject’s blood.
After three hours of contemplation, the subject was once again anesthetized for the second half of the procedure. All the bits of hard shell are clipped onto the assigned pins slowly forming a shell around the subject’s chest. The shape of the shell could best be described as having the form of a modern day sports bra with a band around the chest and two straps over the shoulders.
Each shell piece interlocks with its neighbors with a series of overlapping grooves. The fit is such that the subject maintains a limited amount of flexibility. At the same time, the materials are quite sturdy, equivalent in class to some forms of maille armor. The bits of shell can dispense a tunable range of electric currents to their connection pins and into the subject’s flesh. A variety of sensations can be simulated using these currents from gentle caresses, pinches, slaps, heat and cold, or even shocking sensations.
As noted above, once the final piece is set a signal is transmitted across the entire population of shell bits causing a minute, but effective deformation which prevents any future disassembly.
After the restraints have been applied, the subject is allowed a lengthy normalization period where the functioning of the Breast and Nipple Access and Stimulation Restraint Hardware
automated sensations are demonstrated and the futility of self stimulation is fully realized.
Dea Dammasch, aeternum amorem et obsequium meum spondeo.
“My friend who is a lawyer will meet us for lunch tomorrow,” Perit said as she stuck her head in Charity’s office. “Her name is Metolius Suttle.”
“Wow! Ok, sounds good,” Charity said, as her phone began to buzz. “Oh! It’s my sister. I better get this.”
“Ok. See you!” Perit walked away.
Charity answered the phone.
“There’s some kind of horrifying wild animal locked in the cage under your bed!” Faith stated.
“What?” Charity asked, envisioning some sort of marmot or raccoon had somehow gotten inside and had somehow slipped through the bars that made up the base of the king size bed in the master bedroom. It was a very sturdy cage, inside which Charity had spent many nights as Blue’s powerless captive - a bondage princess for a Domme Queen. “Where is Hope?!?”
“I think that Hope IS the wild animal locked under the bed. If I try to get close enough to raise the bed canopy and skirt, she starts growling. It’s not a pleasant sound,” Faith said.
“How did she..? Alright. Just leave her alone. I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
Twenty minutes later, Charity ran into her house.
“Is she still in the bed cage?” she asked Faith, who was waiting in the living room.
“Yeah, it’s locked. I don’t think that she could get out if she wanted to.”
Charity went into the bedroom, “Hope?” She slowly raised the bed skirt. “Hope?” Sure enough the decorated woman was curled up in the back corner of the cage. “Hope? It’s me, Charity.”
“Chai-Ree?” Slowly, Hope rolled over and started to crawl towards the cage door. Charity rattled the key into the lock and pulled the door open.
“Why are you hiding in here? Are you afraid?” Charity asked. Mainly, she wanted her voice to have a calming tone.
Hope responded with a string of words, sentences… It was a good sign and Hope slowly crawled out of the cage, all her body jewelry rattling as she moved. Charity suddenly realized that Hope was completely naked.
Hope had preferred to remain topless after arriving at Charity’s home. Charity thought it was most likely because of the array of sharp pin-like spikes protruding from the skin around her nipples. But now, it seemed that Hope had cast off her sweat pants as well. Her ankles had seamless manacles to match her wrists. Her legs were covered with an impressively extensive tattoo of leafy vines in blacks, greens, and streaks of lapis blue. Her buttocks were covered in some sort of symbols (runes?).
“Hoooly shit,” Faith said from her doorway as Hope emerged.
Hope looked up cautiously at Faith.
“She’s a friend. Friend,” Charity said.
“Frien-” Hope said, indicating that she understood. They had already established the meaning of the word “friend” earlier.
After fully emerging from the cage, Hope settled back on her knees and held her hands up by her temples, fingers pointed up into the air. “Day ah bru bah (click). Day ah bru bah (click).”
“Here?” Charity asked, pointing towards the ground.
Hope nodded enthusiastically, also pointing at the ground.
“Faith, can you go and check all the doors and windows and make sure they are locked, please?” Charity said.
“What is she saying?” Faith asked.
“She’s using the same hand motions that she did when I asked her who gave her all these decorations. I think that she is saying that someone, particularly that person, was here in the house,” Charity said.
As Faith went around the house, Charity continued to sit on the bedroom floor speaking in calm tones. She reached an arm out towards Hope, offering her hand. After a moment, Hope placed her hand in Charity’s and gave a brief, small smile. Her hand was trembling. Something obviously had scared her.
“Everything is locked up. There’s no sign of forced entry anywhere,” Faith reported when she returned to the bedroom. “Maybe she just freaked out when I arrived?”
“I’ll introduce you,” Charity said standing up. She pointed to herself, “Charity.” Then to Hope, “Hope.” Finally, “Faith. Faith.”
Hope repeated, “Fae-. Hi, Fae-.”
Faith waved. “Hello, Hope.”
Charity then made a motion over her midsection - like a swollen belly. She used her left hand as though collecting something from between her legs and then straightened up as though she were carrying a football. Then she repeated the same motion with her right hand.
“What are you doing? It looks like you're scooping ice cream out of your vagina,” Faith said quietly.
Charity pointed at the imaginary bundle in her left arm. “Charity.” Then pointing to the imaginary bundle in her right arm, “Faith.” She pointed back and forth between herself and Faith, “Sister. Sister.”
“She’s going to think we’re twins,” Faith whispered.
“Thith-uh?” Hope repeated smiling. She stood up with a rattle of chains. She pointed at Charity and then herself, “Thith-uh.”
“I’m not sure that she understands,” Faith said.
Hope started talking in her native language. She repeated the swollen belly motion that Charity had performed, then used both hands to apparently indicate a great effluence from her own vagina, She then raised her arms up wide and high - the chains attached to her arms spread out like an angel’s wings. “Ha een (click) oh sa.” Finally, she took Charity’s hand in hers, “Thith-uh.”
“She’s got needles poking out of her boobs,” Faith said.
“I think that she is trying to say that we are all sisters of the creator,” Charity said. “Whoever that may represent for her.”
“She’s got needles poking out of her… her… Look!” Faith said with a hint of horror.
Hope noticed where Faith’s attention was focused. She slid the chain dangling from her belly-button to the side to provide a clear view of her pubic mound which, while devoid of any hair, was densely tattooed. She pointed a metal-tipped finger at her clitoral hood which, like her areolas and lips, was covered in short, sharp, narrow spikes.
“No!” Hope said.
Then she pointed further down towards her labia which were full and puffy. Her inner labia poked out slightly, and then there was something more. She spread her lower lips to reveal a flexible, finely chained mesh covering her vaginal opening. The mesh seemed to emerge from her skin - more as an extension than something pierced onto it.
“No!” Hope said again, pressing the mesh inwards to make her point.
But, she still had more to communicate. She twisted and pointed to one of the tattooed frames of line art that encircled her waist. The character who was the main subject in all the frames was joined in this frame by a second woman. Each was fettered, hand and foot, and a chain anchored each woman low on the wall by a steel collar. Still they sat in a loving embrace, apparently content, or at least unconcerned by their captivity.
Hope pointed to the main character. “Oh (pop) ee ay o tok (click) oh thu hye-th (pop) (click) ee an yo eh heat eh (click) un thorhina.” When Faith looked confused, Hope used her shortened name, “Hh-oe,” and pointed to her chest.
Then she pointed to the second character in the frame. “Chai-ree.” She pointed at Charity, smiling. “Chai-ree. Thith-uh!”
“She’s as big of a bondage slut as you are, baby,” Faith said to Charity.
“Yeth!” Hope said.
Charity was distracted though. “Turn!” Charity said to Hope, an uncharacteristic edge to her voice, reaching out suddenly, but pausing before she actually touched her. Hope, slightly startled, twisted her body a little, confusion in her eyes.
Charity pointed to the tattoo on Hope’s mons - a heavily shaded, stylized upside down Y shape seemed to be emerging from a mass of leafy vines. “Fuck!”
“A fancy lambda?” Faith said. “Yeah! I feel like I’ve seen that symbol before in some kind of art or something.”
“Yeah,” Charity said, rubbing her stomach like she was in a little pain. “It’s…”
Before she could complete her thought though, her phone pinged - a text message. Charity pulled out her phone. It was from Keyholder. She read it aloud: “Since both you and that little demon do not wear panties, I have liberated you from their burden.”
“What?!” Faith asked.
Charity walked over to her armoire and opened a drawer. The contents were all tumbled in disarray. She pushed her hands through a few pairs. “Holes have been torn in all of my panties!”
Faith picked up a pair of pink ones. “Not just holes. Look! These holes are letters, stamped out of the material. The holes in this pair say, ‘Blue’. Colorblind!”
“How could someone break into my house and cut holes in all my panties?” Charity asked. She was clearly dazed.
“This pair has the word ‘mine’ cut out of them,” Faith said, holding up another pair. “Possessive!”
Hope raised her hands to her temples. “Day ah bru bah (click)!”
An hour later, Faith was reading from the image that Detective Tumalo had found in her wrecked office as they sat around Charity’s laptop at the kitchen table - Hope still completely naked. (Every time Charity offered any type of covering, Hope just said, “No!” “Well, duh!” Faith said. “She probably snags her crotch needles every time she moves when she’s wearing clothes.”)
“A tender song of love for my dear Charity. Hammer a spike into the stone of the dreary, dark dungeon where you shall be thrown. Rack, crack, Wartenberg wheel tine. I’ll suture your mouth and your screams will be mine,” Faith read. “Rude and somewhat poorly metered.”
“I’m not so concerned about the technical qualities of the ver… uh, poem,” Charity said darkly. “I’m more concerned about the threat. Obviously, whoever has abducted Blue, whoever is fucking with me, whoever… created?… delivered?… Hope - it’s all connected and their resources must be immense. I mean… Look at what they did to Hope!”
Hope meanwhile had taken an interest in the laptop and was randomly (though cautiously) pressing keys. She tried dragging a fingertip over the mouse pad as she had seen Faith do, but the cursor failed to respond to the touch of metal covering her fingertips.
“This isn’t just a taunt,” Faith said. “There is a secret message coded here.”
“What? How do you know? What does it say?” Charity asked.
“I have no idea. But, look, the letters are a mix of upper and lower case. That is a binary encoding. This is a cipher. If we had the appropriate key to this cipher, then we would be able to decode the message,” Faith explained.
“That all went over my head,” Charity stated. She opened a new document on the laptop and pointed to the keyboard, encouraging Hope to press a button. Hope hit a key and started laughing with glee when she saw a letter appear on the screen. She began pressing more keys with greater confidence.
“Fuck!” Faith said, looking at her phone messaging app. “There is an outage at work. I’ve got to go into the office real quick. Uh… Just do a search on the word ‘cipher’ on the internet.”
“OK,” Charity said. “And thanks for coming by, Faith. I would be a complete basket case without you.”
“Hey, baby, I love you. I’ll always be here for you,” Faith said, standing and hugging Charity. She looked over at Hope who was quietly talking to herself - making clicking and popping sounds, examining the keyboard more diligently before pressing a key - then studying the screen. “Um… Tell Hope good-bye. Keep each other safe. Don’t impale yourself on her somehow.”
After Faith left, Charity asked Hope, “Do you want something more to eat or drink, Hope? Eat? Drink?”
Hope was pressing a key as fast as she could, making a staccato of clacking noises. When she stopped she looked at Charity with a huge smile on her face and pointed to the screen. It was covered in Y’s.
“Why, indeed,” Charity sighed.
Her phone beeped. Another message from Keyholder. “You will wear only what I tell you: that little black dress in your wardrobe - nothing else - not even shoes. You will put your little demon back in her cage. You will get in your car and start driving. You will receive more messages soon. Tell no one. Blue will pay if you fail to comply.”
“Well, one thing is for certain,” Charity thought as she drove her car through the dark city streets with the heat blasting, “I know I won’t get raped.”
Per Keyholder’s instructions, Charity wore only a pretty, little black dress. She was even driving barefoot. She knew that she should be terrified about what was going on. On the contrary, she felt like finally after all these weeks she was able to actively do something to help find or free Blue from her abductors. She actually felt empowered.
It had taken a little work to explain to Hope that she had to leave to run this errand. It was surprisingly simple, though, to suggest that Hope should await her return in the cage under the master bed. In fact, Hope seemed to want to go there. When the two arrived at the bedroom, Hope got down on her hands and knees and crawled inside. Charity tried to communicate that Hope should leave the cage door slightly ajar so she could get out if she wanted, but as soon as Hope was in the cage, she turned and yanked the door closed with a forceful tug.
Charity decided that Hope would be okay. She flipped a switch that started up a fan for ventilation. It was a pretty cozy space. The base was padded and comfortable. There was a nice pillow and duvet. Charity had slept there many nights. It felt safe, isolated, and protective. But, it was a cage.
“Turn right in 600 yards on South Rope Street,” the Goze app on her phone announced in a pleasant voice. Somehow Keyholder was sending directions through the app. There was no specific destination drawn on the app’s city map, but she was receiving instructions that were taking her to the outskirts of the restaurant district. Most businesses in this section of town were closed for the night. “Turn Left on East Cascade Avenue. Your destination is on the right.”
Charity’s phone beeped - a text message from Keyholder instructing Charity to park along the road. After she had turned off the engine, a few more text messages arrived explaining what Charity was required to do. After reading each message, Charity looked up and down the street. There were only a handful of cars parked along this stretch of road. Charity examined each one closely. The businesses along here had residences above them. Only a few had lights pouring through windows.
Finally a message arrived: “There is your target. Go!”
A woman had stepped out of a building onto the sidewalk. She was standing under a street light, talking on the phone. Charity took a deep breath and opened her car door. She knew that Keyholder was trying to humiliate Charity. “I’m doing this for Blue,” she said to herself and all her nervousness melted away. She had her instructions and this would all be over soon enough.
The pavement was cold on her bare soles. Charity was gritting her teeth every time she stepped on a bit of loose gravel. Her dress was backless, but adrenaline kept her from getting too chilly as she quietly made her way towards the woman. She took one last look up and down the street. Was there someone in the white Toyota sedan across the street? “Ok,” Charity told herself. “Let’s do this.”
“Hello?” Charity approached the woman, who looked up from her phone conversation. Charity then followed Keyholder’s script. “I was told that you have the key to my chastity belt.”
“What?” the woman said then she mumbled something into the phone, “There’s some woman…”
Charity pushed the straps of her black dress off her shoulders and the sleek material slipped down over her hips and pooled at her feet on the ground. She stepped out of the dress, now naked. “I’m very horny, and was told that you have the key to my chastity belt.” Charity began knocking on the faceplate which made a very distinctive tapping sound.
The woman on the phone looked at Charity, shocked, “What the fuck!?” Charity made sure to get a good look at the woman. She didn’t recognize her, but she made sure to study her features. “You need to get away from me!” the woman was saying. “I’m going to call the police!” Then she was talking on the phone again, “…some crazy naked bitch out here wearing some kind of metal underwear…”
Her task was now complete. As per Keyholder’s script Charity turned and jogged back to her car, leaving her dress behind. When Charity was safely back in her vehicle, she looked back up the street. The woman on the phone had disappeared back into the safety of a nearby building. Charity saw the lights of the Toyota turn on and the car pulled out into the road and drove away.
“That car has to have been Keyholder,” Charity thought and she smiled despite herself. She grabbed the camera she had left on the passenger seat and browsed through the pictures that she had taken of the area before she stepped out of her car. She could clearly make out the license plate of the Toyota in the photo. “You don’t fuck around with me!” Charity thought.
She turned on her car and drove home naked. Keyholder’s ploy had backfired. She did not feel humiliated standing naked before some anonymous woman. She felt victorious. Adrenaline surged through her body. She actually felt elated. She thought about the naked woman locked in the cage under her bed. “Holy shit! I am horny!” she thought. Chastity closed her eyes to picture Blue.
“I hope that Hope is ok.”
Journal Entry 4:
Subject: Ash Adams - p-FEAR Installation
When one has ‘agency’ that means that one can take action to produce a particular effect. As humans, most often it is our hands that allow us agency over physical objects in our environments. Mostly, we take this for granted…
Our current subject, Ash Adams, was provided a waiting period after her permanent breast restraint hardware was installed. She was subjected to a variety of the features that the hardware allowed including pain, but mostly pleasure. The combination of boredom, conditioning, a cocktail of aphrodisiacs, and the more pleasurable stimulations from the breast restraints left the subject particularly aroused at all times. A variety of sex toys were provided - false phalluses, vibrators, etc. - of which the subject made great use.
Soon after the installation of the breast restraints we removed all the nail beds from her fingers and toes and capped the ends of each digit with tight sheaths of titanium. Without the benefit of repeated experimentation with multiple subjects, one may be surprised to find that the discovery of the loss of fingernails produced only a minimum of emotional trauma in the subject. Within several sleep cycles, in fact, the subject seems to become adept at using the new finger shields to their greatest benefit while masturbating. This result is evidence of the evolution of the subject’s mental state transitioning to a reality where sexual arousal eclipses all other concerns.
Once measurements indicate that the subject has reached an acceptable equilibrium with her current environment and stimuli, it is time to move to the next phase of her conditioning - the removal of ‘agency’.
When the time arrived, the subject was thoroughly anesthetized and the surgical cart was drawn into Isolation Theater 3. First, a hole was bored through each of the subject’s hands mid-palm between the fore and middle finger bones - that is, the second and third metacarpal bones. Metal piping with a quarter inch open diameter was inserted through the holes and flanges were clamped tightly at either end. Normally such an installation has a permanent, though minor, negative impact on the subject’s hand dexterity. For our purposes, the impacts are immaterial.
The subject was kept unconscious for some time for healing. Our desire is that the subject finds each modification to be something that is beautiful, perfect and good - not a painful open wound. Time is required to dress the wounds appropriately to make the desired presentation.
Once the healing has proceeded and infection is no longer a concern, the subject’s hands are encased in their flat-shells. The flat-shells are produced as two halves - an upper and a lower, using the same manufacturing process as for the wrist and ankle cuffs. The hand is placed, palm down, on the lower. A juncture on the lower shell coated in a thick, waterproof epoxy is lined up with the flange in the subject’s palm and, with a firm amount of pressure, locks in place. The shell holds the hand and fingers in a relaxed, open configuration to allow for the best circulation.
The upper shell is then pressed down on the top of the hand, once again, locking to the flange on the back of the hand. At the same time, all around the shell halves' circumference, plug and socket connectors of the type used for the wrist and ankle cuffs fuse them into one inseparable whole. The hand is pillowed between the two halves in a compressible foam which hardens over time. By the time the subject is revived the fingers are held immobile inside the shell. Combined, the two halves of the flat-shells appear as a smooth, featureless, flattened ovoid - like a squashed egg - with a hole running through the middle. The two halves of the flat-shells can never be separated again.
Finally, the subject’s wrist is bent forward. A flexible strip of metal is wedged into a slot on the flat shells at the back of the wrist. The opposite end of the strip is then shimmed into a matching slot on the forward edge of the subject’s permanent wrist cuff. Next, the subject’s wrist is bent back and a similar metal strip is connected between the shell and cuff on the underside of the wrist. The subject will discover that in the future, they will be able to slightly flex their wrists, but only with the greatest of effort.
After a period of healing the subject awakens, lying in her gynecological chair. Her arms are positioned above her so that the first thing she sees is her new hand restraints. Her arms now terminate in the flat-shells - oblong, well-padded stumps. A metal bar is passed through the center of the flat-shells. The subject quickly finds that she can slide the metal bar through these holes to the extent dictated by simple clips at the termination of the bar. Based on the location of the holes in the flat-shells and the lingering discomfort of the recent operations, the subject quickly realizes that, indeed, the metal bar passes through the center of her hands!
What occurs next is a period of reconciliation where the subject must confront a new reality of greatly reduced agency. Ash screamed until her voice was raw and hoarse. She slid her hands back and forth along the metal bar violently.
After several sleep periods, her hands were released from the metal bar so that she could lay with her arms free in her chair. A saddle-like post had been installed, upon which her crotch rests. In due time, stimulation is applied to her breast restraints as well as a soft vibration transmitted through the new crotch post. These stimulations are not sufficient to allow her to reach climax. Perhaps it is reflexive for her to reach over to her trove of sex toys to seek relief and perhaps it is with a dose of cruelty that the trove has been left for her to reach when she no longer has the agency to grasp any of them.
Thus begins the next major phase of the subject’s mental evolution. With the removal of agency, the subject now begins to develop a dependency upon her caretakers. Certainly, we take care of her carnal needs with utmost efficiency but solely in intervals of our choosing - her input, no longer taken into any form of consideration. She quickly learns that from now on, this is the way it shall be.
Dea Dammasch, aeternum amorem et obsequium meum spondeo.
It was Sunday afternoon and Charity was sitting in front of her computer staring at the photo of the message Detective Tumalo had sent from her wrecked office. Faith had said that the awful poem was a coded message and she had started to describe how to translate that message. She had used some word to describe how to figure out the code. What was that word? Try as she might, Charity could not think of the word that Faith had used… “Ci… Ci… Siphon…” No.
Crap! It was right there on the tip of her tongue. “Ci… Cyber?” Maybe that was it. Charity typed “cyber code” into the search engine… Over a half billion page results. Fuck! Why wasn’t Faith answering her phone?
Hope rattled into the kitchen where Charity was staring at her computer. She still preferred to walk around the house naked. Every time Charity looked at her she quickly became distracted. The extent of Hope’s decorations was overwhelming. Charity caught herself staring - studying the intricacies of a tattoo or embedded jewel that had not caught her attention before… Hope was just so… distracting. So exotic. So terrifyingly beautiful. Charity pressed down on the metal faceplate of her chastity belt even though it did nothing to quell the surge of tingling energy that bubbled from down there.
“Cuhn,” Hope said, beckoning Charity to follow. “Cuhn… thhee…,” she said pointing to her eyes.
Charity got up from the table and followed Hope into the hall. She walked to the door which led to the cellar. Oddly, it was wide open. “Oh, shit,” Charity said. “I thought I had locked that door?” Hope was already walking down the stairs.
When they got to the bottom of the steps, Hope started speaking excitedly and pointing to the various pieces of bondage furniture that Blue had collected. “How am I going to explain this to you?” Charity wondered out loud.
Hope walked up to the gibbet cage. She tentatively poked it with a finger and it rocked back and forth slightly on the ring from which it hung. She pointed at Charity and then at the cage.
“Sometimes Blue and I liked to play with bondage equipment like this,” Charity explained, despite the fact that she knew Hope had no idea what she was saying. Charity pulled the hasp off the staple and the back side of the gibbet groaned open. The cage was measured precisely for Charity. When she stood inside and the door was closed she could feel the cold metal touch all around her body.
Hope pointed at Charity again and then towards the cage.
“No,” Charity said. No way was she going to get in the cage with Hope in charge.
Hope moved over to the trunk. The lid was up. Inside, the small pillow and padded base left no question as to what was occasionally stored inside. Hope pointed at Charity and then inside the trunk.
“No,” Charity said again.
Hope walked to the rack and pointed at the ankle cuffs. She seemed to know what they were for. She pointed towards Charity’s feet.
“Yes. You put the cuffs on your ankles, then lay back,” Charity pointed at the wrist cuffs. “These go around your wrists, then you turn this wheel…” Charity stood tall and raised her arms over her head slowly pushing her hands higher and higher like she was being stretched out.
“Ow?” Hope asked, pointing at her shoulder.
“It could hurt you a lot,” Charity replied. “But Blue and I only play on the equipment. For fun! Fun!”
“Fuh?” Hope asked.
“Yeah. It’s fun! It’s sexy,” Charity closed her eyes and brushed her hands up over her breasts and down between her thighs. She opened her eyes and smiled briefly. “Fun.”
Hope stepped over to Blue’s work table. She picked up a length of chain about six feet long. She then picked up a padlock that was open and waiting. Somehow, she quickly found a ring on one of the tighter necklaces wrapped around her throat and she attached the chain with the padlock, squeezing the shank into the base with a solid click. She handed the end of the chain to Charity.
“Chai-Ree,” she said smiling and pointed back up the stairs as though she wanted Charity to lead her out of the basement.
“Ok…” Charity looked at Hope’s face draped in tiny chains - her lips with their menacing array of needles - unkissable. Charity sighed. She reached over to the padlock and pulled out the key, issuing a comically diabolical laugh. Hope just continued to smile, then turned towards the exit.
Charity followed Hope up the stairs watching the sway of her hips as they climbed. Hope navigated their way into the den with Charity holding the chain leash loosely in her hand. Hope pointed to a spot on the couch.
“You want me to sit down?” Charity asked.
“Thhi-,” Hope confirmed. She picked up the remote to the TV and handed it to Charity. Then she knelt on the carpet next to the couch and pointed to the TV.
“I guess we will watch a little TV now,” Charity laughed. She started flipping through some channels. “But, I would like to point out that this would be considered ‘topping from the bottom’”.
Hope smiled up at Charity for a second then leaned her head against her thigh. She started to stroke her hands up and down the length of Charity’s leg. Charity found a kid’s show - a girl and some annoying monkey going on great adventures while outsmarting a thieving fox - but Charity only sat, mesmerized, still loosely grasping the chain links watching the decorated woman kneeling next to her.
Meanwhile Hope was laughing at the TV and copying words that she heard. “Mah-(pop)! “Mah-(pop)!”
“Metolius Suttle, my lawyer friend, is down the hall in the conference room waiting for you,” Perit said after knocking on Charity’s office door.
“Great!” Charity said. “You don’t mind watching Hope, do you?”
Hope was sitting in a chair clumsily holding a silicon-tipped stylus, scrolling through pictures on a touchscreen device. It had been quite an ordeal convincing her to put on her hoodie and sweatpants so she could travel in to Charity’s office.
“This seems to entertain her for hours,” Charity explained.
“Thith-uhth,” Hope said, pointing between Charity and herself.
“Yes,” Charity said. “Sisters… I just don’t like to leave her alone for too long at my house.”
“Thorhina(click),” Hope said.
“Sisters,” Charity repeated. “Thorhina.”
“(click),” Hope said emphatically. “Thorhina(click).”
“Thorhina… (click)?” Charity said with a little more focus on copying Hope’s pronunciation.
“(Click)!” Hope said. “(Click)!”
“(Click),” Charity mimicked.
“You seem to be developing a really good rapport with her,” Perit said. “No… uh… incidents of any kind, right?”
“She’s an angel, Perit,” Charity said and she turned to Hope. “Hope. Perit. Perit.”
“(Pop),” Hope replied.
“Perit,” Charity’s boss pointed at herself. Hope stared at Perit for a moment. Then she turned her attention back to the touchscreen device.
Charity walked down the hall to the conference room. She entered and shut the door behind her. She turned to the woman sitting at the table. “Hello, Ms Suttle? I’m…”
Charity gasped. She recognized the woman immediately.
This was the woman from the street corner the other night. The one for whom Keyholder had forced Charity to strip.
“You!?” The woman, Metolius Suttle, recognized Charity immediately.
Charity’s first instinct was to turn and run from the conference room. Here, before her, was the woman who Charity had assaulted with nudity. She had ripped off her dress and distinctly pointed out the chastity belt locked around her waist. Charity was wondering if her face was white or red at the moment… Maybe a mix?
“I can expl… uh… well… I can’t really explain what I was doing…” Charity fumbled. “But…”
“I’m not really sure what to say either,” Metolius Suttle replied.
“Look!” Charity started, doing her best to collect herself. “I need a lawyer and Perit suggested that you may be able to help me.”
“Okay…” Metolius said slowly. “Well… ahem… the first thing that I will need to know is whether or not you are competent as a client. Since you are a psychiatrist, I’m sure that you are aware of more appropriate services that some individuals may need in situations involving the legal system when they are… um… at risk of injuring themselves or others for whatever reason.”
“Yes!” Charity said. “Yes! Of course! But, I’m competent. I don’t normally… uh…”
“You don’t normally do what, Ms McKenzie?” Metolius asked, frowning.
“Well, I have never done what I did before or since then. I just can’t really… um…”
“So,” Metolius asked, “you are aware that stripping in the middle of a public street is not a normal activity?”
“Of course not,” Charity said.
“And what about that device that you said was locked around your loins,” Metolius continued. “Is that normal?”
“No. I suppose not, but… er…” Charity felt like she was falling in a bottomless hole.
“You said that you were looking for the key. You said that you thought that I had the key,” Metolius pressed. “Are you still wearing that chastity belt?”
“Yes,” Charity murmured.
“Do you have the key? Can you unlock it?” Metolius asked.
“This is why I need your services as a lawyer, because…”
“Do you have the key, Ms McKenzie?” Metolius asked again in a firm voice.
“… no…” Charity said quietly, staring at the floor.
“And you think that I have the key?” Metolius asked.
“Then why did you say that you thought I did, Ms McKenzie? And how is it that of all the women in the city, you chose to approach me? Did you know who I was at the time?”
“Where is Perit? I don’t know if I can work with you. This is too crazy,” Metolius picked up her purse and stood up from the table.
“Wait! Please!” Charity said, tears starting to fall from her eyes. “My girlfriend was abducted over two months ago and the police don’t seem to be able to do anything to find her. They seem to be more interested in investigating me than trying to find her. They are acc… accu… they are saying that I have been harassing one of Blue’s supposed ex-girlfriends. I have never even heard of the woman before. Blue never even mentioned her. Blue has the key to this belt. Why would I…? Someone has Blue and has the key.”
“So, Blue, your girlfriend, locked you in a chastity belt and then she left with the key?” Metolius asked.
“She didn’t leave with the key! She was abducted!” Charity said.
“Have you heard from her abductors? Is there a ransom note?” Metolius asked.
“Yes… no…” Charity started to feel tremendous anxiety. Keyholder warned her specifically not to talk about their communications. Keyholder stated that Charity would never hear from Blue again if she did.
“I don’t understand your answer,” Metolius said. “Yes or no?”
“No. There is no ransom note. I have not heard from Blue,” Charity lied.
“You’ve not heard from Blue?” Metolius repeated. “Do you expect, hypothetically, if Blue went out of town for a while, that she would communicate with you?”
“What? Yes! If Blue was not in town, she would com… commu… she would send me a message. She’s my girlfriend! We live together! We love each other.”
“Ms McKenzie, do you drink alcohol?” Metolius asked.
“What? What does that have to do with anything?” Charity asked.
“Do you drink?”
“I drink occasionally, but not recently,” Charity said.
“Why not?” Metolius asked.
“I’m taking med… medica… I’m taking drugs… I mean, I have a perscri… a, um, perscrip…”
“A prescription?” Metolius finished. “Do you know what the prescription is? What is the name?”
“I… I don’t know…” Charity answered, envisioning the bottle in her fridge with the label that read: “Charity. 5ml twice per day. Do not take with alcohol.”
“You are a licensed psychiatrist, correct?” Metolius asked.
“Don’t you have the authority to prescribe medication to your patients?”
“But, yet, you are taking some drug and you cannot even remember what it is?”
Charity groaned. This was not going well.
“I’m going to need to talk to Perit before we go any further,” Metolius said, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t even consider taking you as a client, but Perit is a good friend. I’ll need to get her opinion on all these issues that you have going on… Does she know about this chastity belt thing?”
Later, that same afternoon…
“So,” Detective Tumalo said. “This is the famous decorated woman.”
“Hope. She goes by the name Hope,” Charity said.
The detective held out her hand as though to shake Hope’s, but Hope took a half step back sliding a bit behind Charity.
“She doesn’t like to be touched,” Charity said. “She’s not familiar with modern American customs.”
“I’ve heard that she doesn’t speak English at all,” the detective took a step closer to Hope to look at her face. “Hoooly shit… Whoah! Is she growling at me? She’s got needles sticking out of lips!”
“Yeah. You might not want to get too close,” Charity said.
“OK, then,” Tumalo walked around behind her desk. “Does she have any clue what is going on around her? I mean, is she an animal? Or is she human? Do her eyes glow in the dark?”
“Bithh,” Hope said. Then she spoke for a while in her own language, quietly popping and clicking.
“She’s extremely smart,” Charity confirmed. “Anyway… This thumb drive has a photo of a car - you can see the license plate… I think that whoever owns this car has something to do with Blue’s abduction.”
The detective took the thumb drive and plugged it into her computer. She opened up the images that Charity had taken the night Keyholder forced her to expose herself. “Hmm… looks like an old Toyota sedan, a Camry about 2003 or so… Is this the vehicle that was used to abduct Blue?”
“I have no idea,” Charity said. “I’m just saying that I think this person is involved.”
“How do you know?” the detective asked.
“Can’t you just run the plate and figure out who owns the vehicle and check them out?” Charity asked.
“What the fuck do you think we run here? I’m not going to invade someone’s privacy just because some random person has a vague hunch. That’s not how detective work is done,” the detective said with a condescending chuckle.
“It’s hard to understand how detective work is done around here at all, because it’s been over two months and I haven’t seen anything yet. Whoever owns this car is involved somehow,” Charity explained. “This could be a lead. If I’m wrong, no big deal. But if I’m right…”
“Hmm,” grunted Detective Tumalo. “Have you found a lawyer yet? Seems that I remember that was an action item that you were working on. Not some sort of stakeout or whatever the fuck this is supposed to be.”
“Yeah. Fuck you! Metolius Suttle is my lawyer. Here’s her card,” Charity said. “Come on, Hope. Let’s go!”
“Bitth,” Hope said as they walked out of the office.
Journal Entry 5:
Subject: Ash Adams - p-FEAR Installation
Our goal is to divorce the subject from time. It is likely impossible to achieve complete temporal separation in a human. Time defines so much of what makes a human. Humans learn, humans recall, humans anticipate. Each of these acts are strongly correlated with the concept of time.
Certainly our use of the subjects is very much dependent upon the link between humans and time. However, we have found that the more grounded a human is with the notion of the passage of time, the less dedicated they are to their roles in service of the Goddess Dammasch. And so, we continually strive to find the appropriate balance as we transform the mental capacities of each subject.
Each Isolation Theater is illuminated in a consistent manner. For the subject, sleep is never achieved through a sense of tiredness. The circadian and circalunar rhythms are both stretched and compressed until they become meaningless. Tricks are performed, even, to fool the confused, arousal-addled subject that time is moving backwards.
We have found that the length of one’s hair is the best way to fool a subject regarding the passage of time. Slowly, in fits and starts, the subject will realize that their hair is getting shorter as they are held captive in their isolation theaters. When Ash had her Hand Restraints applied, the hair on her head was only about a quarter inch long. Since the application of her hand restraints, we have completely removed all remaining vestiges of hair from her body, including eyebrows and eyelashes.
Every sleep cycle for a period of time, her entire body was coated with a gel agent which has slowly eliminated all her hair follicles. She will never grow hair again.
Ash was so concerned about her hand restraints and with the complete lack of any mirrored surface, she never even realized when her final patches of hair were scrubbed away. Some time passed before she came to the realization of what had happened. When she discovered her new state, she spent a bit of time trying to touch her head with her upper arm and eliciting an array of spiteful declarations.
Finally though, equilibrium was once again achieved. She spends more and more time laying in her gynecological chair enjoying the pleasant stimulations we provide. Ever hopeful that a rare mind blowing orgasm is gifted.
Upon waking from a recent sleep cycle, Ash discovered a new item pierced through her tongue. The stud is thick and topped with a fairly heavy spherical metal ball. It has negatively impacted her diction, to say the least. Her lack of diction is immaterial as communicative vocalizations are not a useful element of the subject’s future.
Dea Dammasch, aeternum amorem et obsequium meum spondeo.
A week and a half later, Charity sat on her sofa with the TV tuned to a children's channel. Hope knelt on the carpet, naked, as she preferred, leaning against Charity’s leg completely engrossed in a cartoon. Charity was worrying about Blue. It had been almost a month since she received the last message from her. Had she said too much to her new lawyer, Metolius Suttle? Was Blue still OK? Was she still alive? Charity was spiraling…
She had to think of something else. She reached out and gently laid her fingers on Hope’s shoulder. Generally, Charity was very careful about minimizing physical contact with the strange woman. Hope did not seem to mind Charity’s touch though. She even reached back and pushed her voluminous hair further towards the center of her back to allow Charity better access to her naked skin. The act was like pulling back the curtain on a whole new collection of outrageous modifications.
Lapis gemstones of various sizes were randomly embedded in the skin of Hope’s upper back. They glittered in the dim light of the room. Charity wondered how they had been mounted. Were they burned into Hope’s flesh?
There was something more terrifying though. An eyebolt was mounted in the center of her scapula bone. Charity slid her fingers around the eyebolt. It was not just some sort of dermal piercing. The bolt seemed to be embedded into the actual bone. Charity pushed Hope’s hair around and found a matching eyebolt behind the other shoulder as well.
A chain with fairly heavy links terminated at each of the eyebolts, but rather than hanging down between the two eyebolts, as gravity would dictate, the links angled up towards the center of the back of Hope’s head. There must have been a third attachment point.
Charity used her fingertips to gently follow the links up from the eyebolt on Hope’s right scapula. Hope did not seem to mind. She even helped, by pulling her hair to the left side. She revealed an S link of metal. The lower curve of the S was loosely looped through a central link of the heavier chain spanning between Hope’s scapulas. The upper curve of the S link pulled down on a smaller chain which wove its way in either direction along Hope’s skull towards her ears. This smaller chain was apparently part of the matrix of strands that encircled her head.
Hope unclipped the S link from the upper chain, then turned to face Charity. She looped her fingers in the chain that passed between her upper lip and nose and gently pulled until there was enough slack such that the chain hung down over her lips before leading up into each nostril. Next Hope grabbed the chain that hung off her chin between the two sparkling jewels. She slowly pulled down on the chain and Charity could see tiny links slip through the piercings low, below Hope’s bottom lip. At the same time, the loops of chain dangling below Hope’s nostrils grew smaller and smaller. The chains must have been fixed through Hope’s mouth, into her throat, up through her sinuses, and back out her nose!
Suddenly, a series of metallic clicks emanated from Hope’s mouth. Hope cringed and made a retching sound. After a moment though, she collected herself and seemed to smirk.
“Mmm!” she said. “Mmm mm mmm mmmm!”
“Damn!” Charity said. “Can you open your mouth? Open?”
Hope opened her mouth so Charity could see inside. The metal plate that had been mounted at the top of Hope’s mouth had flipped down and clipped onto some of the studs in Hope’s tongue - holding it immobile. After a moment, Hope began to gag and retch again and she had to close her mouth. Apparently, it was very uncomfortable to open her mouth.
“Holy shit!” Charity said, suddenly anxious. “Undo it! Can you undo it! Please!”
Hope grabbed Charity’s hand and positioned it so that her palm was up. She moved Charity’s palm up to her chin so that the two jewels from the chin chain were supported. Then Hope reached up to her nose and began to pull the chains down from within her nostrils. After a moment and a bit of uncomfortable retching, there was another series of metallic clicks.
Hope mumbled something, clicking and popping again, and she breathed a sigh of relief, obviously happy to be able to move her tongue again. She spoke more loudly, apparently issuing instructions. Charity seemed to guess correctly. She reached behind Hope’s head and reattached the S link to provide tension on the matrix of Hope’s head chains.
Hope sighed again and turned to look at Charity, smiling. Charity placed a hand on each side of Hope’s face looking into her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” Charity said. She wasn’t sure why she was apologizing, but she just felt it needed to be said. “I’m so sorry.”
Charity looked at Hope’s lips. She wanted to kiss them, but that was impossible with the array of thin needles poking menacingly. Instead, she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on Hope’s forehead.
Hope held up two fingers. She pushed them between her lips - the metal tips capping each finger protecting her from impalement. Then she held the two fingers up and gently placed them on Charity’s lips. Charity realized it was a kiss. She opened her mouth and ran her tongue over the slick metal of Hope’s fingertips.
After a moment, Hope withdrew her fingers and turned back towards the TV. The cartoon with the girl and the annoying monkey was on again. “Ooo!” Hope exclaimed happily. She pointed at the TV. “Girhh, Meh, you - Thith-uhth!”
“You, me and the girl are sisters,” Charity smiled.
“Thith-uhth! Thorhina(click)!” Hope said excitedly.
“Thorhina(click),” Charity responded. She had been practicing.
“Goouh! Thorhina(click)!” Hope said, nodding and pointing between Charity, herself and the cartoon girl on the TV. “Mah(pop)! Thorhina!”
That night Charity was having trouble sleeping again. She kept thinking about Hope. What sort of diabolical mind would design such a cruel gag? How was it meant to be used? Why put forth all the time, money, and effort to do what had been done to Hope? Poor Hope. Poor beautiful Hope.
Sometimes Charity found she could break free from spiraling thoughts and get some sleep by masturbating. Of course, generally, an orgasm was the ultimate brain chemistry reset. But, orgasms had been off the table for three months now… It didn’t hurt to try.
Charity’s breasts were aching again. Her hormones were all out of whack. She was pretty sure it was the medicine that Keyholder had her on. She hadn’t had her period since Blue was abducted. With the chastity belt, wouldn’t that be a mess! Chastity pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it off the side of the bed. Rubbing her breasts definitely felt good.
Her nipples were constantly rock hard too. Pinching them, teasing them… she felt jolts of arousal cut through her body. Some women can orgasm from nipple stimulation alone. It hadn’t worked for Charity though. She slid a hand down her stomach, underneath the loose elastic band of her pajama bottoms, across the cool surface of the belt’s faceplate. She teased the skin inside her thighs with the lightest touch, stroking. She began rocking her legs, open, close, open, close… Her breathing was becoming more labored.
Charity thought about Blue and the sex they used to have together - the games they would play - bondage. Sometimes Blue would lock her in the gibbet cage and leave her dangling for an hour or so. She would return and tease her with the key - tease her with her tongue. “Mmm! That’s good,” Chastity thought. She rolled onto her side and slid a hand over her hips, over the swell of her ass, down between until she pressed the bar that bisected her cheeks.
Charity thought of Hope.
“No!” Charity said to herself. “Don’t think of Hope. I’m supposed to be thinking of Blue.”
But, when she did think of Hope, a new thrill of tingling sprinkled through her middle section. Hope - with her tattoos and jewels - with her chains and metal fingertips - her tattooed eyes - her permanent, seamless wrist and ankle cuffs. She imagined Hope handing Charity her leash, begging her to lead her to the ends of the earth. She imagined Hope orgasming with her hair slicked with sweat, her chains rattling. She imagined pulling on the chain hanging from Hope’s chin, hearing the click of hardware in Hope’s mouth locking her tongue to the floor of her mouth.
It was a very strange gag that Hope had. It was so easily disengaged by pulling the chains back out of her nostrils. Dark thoughts crept into Charity’s brain. She wanted to keep them out, but they were not just dark, but also, quite thrilling. What would Charity do to lock the mouth plate down so that Hope would be unable to shift the chain and unlock the gag? It would not take much - a simple clip applied to the first links of chain emerging from the chin piercings… Even something simple, like a cheap key ring that one might get from a valet… If it was thread through a link of the small chain near the piercing, it would prevent the chain from sliding in. Hope probably did not have the coordination to even undo a simple clip or key ring with her metal fingertips.
“Oh, goddess!” Charity had not been so close to the edge before while wearing the chastity belt. “Ohh!” She squeezed her breasts, stroked her sensitive skin, rocked her legs, and thought more dirty, evil thoughts.
But, time slipped by. There was no orgasm. Charity failed. She had thought all those cruel thoughts lying to herself that it would help her orgasm. But, there was no orgasm. Only lust.
The next morning Charity opened the refrigerator and found a typed note tucked under the medicine bottle Keyholder provided: “Increase your dosage to 10ml twice a day. You’ll sleep better.”
“I need for you and the decorated woman to come down to the station at 11am today,” Detective Tumalo said on the phone. “I’ve already summoned your lawyer. She will join us, of course. Tam Fir, Blue’s ex-girlfriend, has been physically assaulted in a most diabolical manner. She’s OK, we think… She hasn’t been able to speak yet due to the metal rings. We’re trying to figure out how to cut them out without hurting Tam. Anyway… I have some questions for both you and that decorated woman. I need some answers.”
“We have Tam in an office right down the hall here,” Detective Tumalo said. “I’m going to ask you all to not interact with Tam at all. If you have questions, ask me. She can’t really say anything at the moment anyway…”
The detective led Charity, Hope and Metolius down the hall to a door that looked very much like the entrance to a holding cell. The detective opened the door and stepped into a medium sized room with no windows. A pull-down cot was attached to the far wall, and Tam was laying on it facing away from the door. When she heard the group walk into the room she slowly turned over and struggled to sit up. She wasn’t using her arms to help herself up. Upon closer examination Charity understood why.
“Wow!” Metolius said quietly.
Both of Tam’s lips, top and bottom had been pierced multiple times and each hole bore a thick solid ring. The piercings were staggered so that, with Tam’s mouth fully closed, the rings seated together like a zipper. A thin chain had been passed through all the rings. Each end of this chain was terminated in a large chromium ball, perhaps two inches in diameter. The chain was long enough so that the spheres dangled just below Tam’s chin on each side. Would have dangled, that is.
The balls must have been somewhat heavy, because Tam was supporting their weight, one in each hand. With the chain under tension, there was no way for Tam to open her mouth. Apparently, though, the chromium balls were heavy enough to do more than simply apply tension to the chain. Could her lips take the full weight of the two balls? Tam’s eyes look tired and bloodshot and she grunted in anger when she saw Charity.
“All the metal that was used is particularly hard. We tried to use wire cutters,” the detective held up the tool. The blades each had a divet - their metal strength less than the jewelry chains. “Someone’s gone to the vehicle impound yard to get some bolt cutters.”
“I’m really sorry, Tam,” Charity said. “Did she see the person who did this? Did they take her somewhere to do this that she would rec… recog… remember?”
“Mmm! Mmmm mmm mm!” Tam tried to say, pointing at Charity.
“Um… Here’s a statement that she typed out for us this morning,” the detective said, handing a piece of paper to Metolius, but looking curiously at Charity.
Charity looked over her shoulder and read the brief passage:
“I went to bed at home. I awoke in a small room with white walls and no apparent door. I was strapped in a gynecological chair. I lay there for hours it seemed, yelling, but no one ever came into the room. Then I woke up again. A mirror was mounted over my face and I could see that my lips had been pierced. I couldn’t open my mouth. I felt pain from being tattooed. I fell asleep again and woke up back in my bed at home this morning. Five days had passed.”
“A tattoo?” Charity asked.
Tam twisted so that her back was to the group. The detective pulled up her shirt a little. Tam had a freshly inked tramp stamp - words that simply said, “never say blue again”.
“So, I’m curious, Detective Tumalo, why you have called my client into the station today,” Metolius said. “This is tragic, but I’m not sure what this has to do with Ms McKenzie.”
“Actually,” the detective replied, “I’m more interested in Ms. McKenzie’s friend here. Er… Hope. I want to compare Tam’s rings with Hope’s piercings. The metal is fairly unique. Is the same metal used in each woman?” Tumalo looked at Charity. “Can she take any of her rings out? Can I look at one?”
“Um… We can ask,” Charity said. “She wants to look at your rings.” Charity pointed to her eyes and then motioned like she was pushing up her sleeve and pointed at Hope.
Hope wrapped her hand defensively around the cuff of her hoodie. She glanced at the detective. “Bithh?”
“Uh… yes… the detective wants to look,” Charity said. “It’s OK. No touch. No touch.”
Reluctantly, Hope pushed her sleeve up, revealing her thin, heavily tattooed arm just beyond her metal wrist cuffs. There were a series of piercings leading up along the bottom inside of her forearm. A chain looped from one piercing to the next, each loop slightly bigger than the previous one.
Metolius had never really looked at Hope before, but now she stared with her mouth hanging open.
Hope noticed Metolius’s reaction. “Hoooo-ey thit!”
Metolius snapped out of her trance and let go a nervous laugh. “That’s what I was going to say.”
“Those rings look very similar,” Tumalo said. “But, if those rings are seamless, could I… uh… snip off a sample perhaps? We could study it in the lab.”
Charity grabbed Hope’s sleeve and pulled it back down to cover her arm, “Oh! Fuck no! Don’t even fucking think about touching her!”
The detective held up her hands defensively, “OK, OK. I had to ask. Uh… I see that you have piercings in your ears, Charity - and they look fairly normal - do you have any other piercings?”
“What?!” Charity asked. “Do I have to answer that question, Metolius?”
“So, you do have other piercings,” the detective said. “I’d like to compare them to Tam’s and Hope’s.”
Charity stared at Metolius for a second. Then she quickly glanced down towards her crotch and back up. After all she DID have a triangle piercing through the lower part of her clitoral hood, but it was currently locked behind her chastity belt.
Metolius looked down at Charity’s crotch. “Oh! Yeah! No! No! My client does not need to answer that question.”
“Ok, then,” Tumalo said. “If you are wearing jewelry somewhere on your body, perhaps you could take it off in private and bring the jewelry to me to look at.” No one said anything for a few seconds. “Unless what you are wearing is permanent…” Charity looked at Metolius who seemed to be struggling for something to say. So, Tumalo continued her thought: “…just like Hope’s jewelry… and, apparently, Tam’s.”
“I’m not sure,” Metolius finally said, “how my client’s jewelry collection or lack thereof is pertinent to Tam’s assault or Blue’s disappearance. My client has no such jewelry that she could present to you at this time.”
Tumalo looked frustrated. “I have an assault,” she said, pointing to Tam. “I have a year and a half old abduction case - Ash Adams. I have a possible abduction case - Blue Barclay. And the only thing that I have that can link these three cases together is a mysterious woman with no past who, conveniently, seems to be incapable of communication without the help of your client, Ms McKenzie.”
“Possible abduc… ab… Fuck! Possible kidnapping?!” Charity said. “You seem to be spending all your fucking resources investing… investi… I’m so mad I can’t even talk! You seem to be blaming me rather than finding my girlfriend. Incompe… fuck! Stupid… I gave you a lead last week. You’ve done nothing!”
Tam started moaning again, pointing at Charity then pointing to Charity’s crotch. Tumalo noticed Tam’s finger-pointing and made an exasperating sound. “Tam seems to have something to say. And she will say what she needs to say as soon as we get those bolt cutters here. You,” Tumalo said, pointing at Charity, “are simply being obtuse. You are impeding my investigation.”
“Whatever! Call me when you have a lead on Blue’s case. Otherwise, call Metolius!” Charity grabbed Hope’s hand. “Let’s go, Hope!”
“Bitth!” Hope said over her shoulder as they left the room.
Journal Entry 6:
Subject: Ash Adams - p-FEAR Installation
A Philosophical Discussion for the Benefit of the Uninvolved
Where in the body does one reside? Or, better stated, where is consciousness housed within the physical body? A typical human would likely answer that their consciousness resides in their head. Why not the hand or the stomach or the heart? Why not the loins?
I think that the answer is simple. Four of the five senses are housed in the head: taste, smell, hearing, seeing…
Here is another set of philosophical questions…
Where does one feel that their thinking occurs? Once again, most would reply that it is done in the head. We know that the brain is located there. An MRI of brain activity suggests that thinking occurs in that organ.
Where does one feel that love for another occurs? For this, many would say, it occurs in the heart. This despite an MRI again reporting activity in the brain when one experiences love.
Where does one feel physical desire? Most definitely this sensation occurs in the loins. But, again, a lot of the activity regarding the sensation of arousal once again occurs in the brain. Research for yourself. Use the terms “brain sex organ”. Most sources state something like: “The brain is the master organ in sexual function.”
So, despite the role of the brain, humans attribute its effects in other locations of their body. Maybe the concept that consciousness is located in the head is simply an illusion that humans believe out of convenience.
Let us assume that one’s perception of the housing of their consciousness can, in fact, be relocated. Consider this experiment: A subject receives multiple sensory feedback from a flying drone with cameras looking down on the subject’s body. It takes little time for the subject to develop the illusion that their consciousness exists outside their physical body. In fact, viewing from a distance the stimulation of one’s sex organs alters the perception of the effects of the stimulation compared to a nonremote viewing.
The proximity of the center of perception affects the intensity of a physical stimulus.
These ideas are taken into consideration for the preparation of a subject for use in the Large Multi-source Dammasch Amplifier for Arousal Powered Arcana.
It is now time for our subject, Ash Adams, to undergo the final preparations for her installation.
As with any complex system, when a consistent set of inputs yields a desirable result, do everything possible to maintain exactly that set of inputs. Our subject has achieved the desired equilibrium with an exceptional arousal duration and intensity profile. It is time to make the final measurements.
The measurement process always occurs when the subject is anesthetized. Key measurements include lengths of arms and legs for chain linkages, waist measurements, a detailed pubis bone mapping, pubis to cranium measurements - fore and aft, cranial circumference, chin and nose profile, ear canal diameter and length, various cavity volumes (oral, anal, vaginal, and uterine), esophagus and trachea lengths.
Additionally, construction of the subject’s personalized Dammasch transmitter framework may now begin.
Dea Dammasch, aeternum amorem et obsequium meum spondeo.
As Keyholder had suggested, Charity increased her dosage of the medicine to 10ml twice-a-day. Unlike the note had suggested, Charity was having no more luck sleeping at night. Her libido was off the charts. Her arousal was driving her crazy. She could not think very well during the day. She was having a lot of trouble speaking in coherent sentences because she was so tired. She even had to cancel several days of her standard patient sessions due to pure exhaustion.
Inevitably, her breasts seemed to ache the most at night when she lay down to sleep. Soothing the ache only led to arousal, and from there, wild fantasies and erotic half dreams. And worst, less of the thoughts were of Blue, more and more her fantasies included her submissive, ever-naked, decorated housemate - her mysterious angel - Hope.
Charity had cast off her nightshirt. She had slipped both hands beneath the band of her pajama shorts. She was writhing in bed in a futile attempt to stoke forth an impossible orgasm. Her eyes were closed attempting to visualize a scene that would exceed the elusive threshold of an orgasm. She did not hear the door to her bedroom open over the soft sounds of her own moaning.
“Chai-ree?” Hope said quietly. Charity opened her eyes, quickly pulling her hands from her shorts. She laughed in embarrassment as there was no doubt what she was up to half naked with the sheets in disarray. “I can’t sleep,” she said. Had she been so loud that she alerted Hope from down the hall in the guest bedroom?
“I heh(pop) yuh,” Hope said, pointing at Charity. “Heh(pop)? Heh(pop).”
Charity’s entire core clenched at the thought of Hope helping, making her feel the need to scream. But she only swallowed - “I… I don’t…”
She reached over to her bedside table and pressed the button on a remote to turn on some dim night lights. Hope stood beside her bed naked as always - the jewels embedded in her skin and dangling from chains sparkled brightly in the dim light. Charity wanted so badly to pull Hope to her and wrap her arms around the mysterious woman, but… But, if she did she would likely be lacerated by the sharp, little spikes that protruded from her lips, breasts, and pubis.
“Yuh lihh,” Hope said. She walked up to the head of the bed and opened a hidden compartment on the frame which contained a heavy leather wrist cuff attached to a short anchored chain.
“How did Hope know about that compartment?” Charity wondered. She wanted to ask, but the only sound she could make was “How…?”
“Shhh,” Hope said and she wrapped the cuff around Charity’s right wrist. “Lihh.”
Charity wondered why she was so compliant as she lay back on the bed and scooted her body towards the center causing her captured arm to be pulled up and out toward the headboard. Charity had stretched her left arm towards the opposite side by the time Hope had walked around the bed to retrieve the matching restraint.
Charity closed her eyes and a wave of goosebumps rippled across her naked torso. She felt hands on her ankles gently pulling her further down the bed, for there were restraints at that end too and the chains were perfectly measured for Charity’s dimensions.
But the restraints did not go on. Not yet anyway. The foot end of the bed sagged slightly under Hope’s weight and with a rattle of jewelry chains, Charity felt a pair of hands touch her hips on either side. Charity’s eyes popped open. She didn’t want Hope to see her chastity belt! But, Charity could not remember why that was so important and she lay watching Hope, speechless, waiting…
Hope slipped her metal fingertips under the waistband and pulled the pajama shorts off Charity’s body - tossing them off to the side. She pushed Charity’s legs apart, kneeling between them, and she started speaking in her quiet voice - popping and clicking. Charity had forgotten to breathe as she watched Hope slowly raise her right hand toward the faceplate of the chastity belt. She pointed to the symbol in the center of the faceplate - a stylized upside down ‘Y’. Hope pointed to her own naked, shaved crotch where an identical symbol had been permanently tattooed into her flesh. “Dah-mothh thorhina(click)! Thith-uhth…”
Hope tapped lightly in the center of the symbol with her metal fingertip causing a crisp ringing sound. Charity, of course, felt no direct result of the touch, but the sound traveled its torturous path through air and ear and brain and synapse and Charity’s hidden clitoris engorged and trembled in it’s lonely isolation. Charity suddenly remembered she should be breathing and inhaled sharply, her head falling back onto the bed.
“Thith-uhth…” Hope said again.
“Yes. Somehow we are sisters,” Charity whispered, smiling, floating in a sea of ecstasy, closer to orgasm than she had ever been while wearing the belt.
Hope slithered off the end of the bed, softly sliding her gentle hands down Charity’s legs, pulling them further apart and wrapping each ankle in the waiting cuff. Charity lay stretched out immobile, yet trembling from head to toe.
Hope climbed back on the bed next to Charity and began to sing - perhaps it was more of a chant. The words she was using had a fair share of pops and clicks which created a soft rhythm upon which her melodic voice lay. Hope began to use her metal fingertips to gently stroke Charity’s torso and face and through her hair.
Charity was so aroused that she was certain she would never fall asleep, but at the same time, the chant was so soothing. She lost herself in the rhythm. The room faded. Charity’s body was awash in a warm vibration that surged up and down, up and down… She slowly slipped into a trance…
Morning light was filtering through the bedroom curtains when Charity woke up more refreshed than she had been in days, weeks. She was still bound, spreadeagle on her bed, strictly restrained, as naked as her chastity allowed. Hope was curled up on the bed beside her, luckily with her back side pressed as closely as possible to Charity’s bound form - the skin where they touched, glowing and warm.
Charity wanted to let Hope sleep, but she really needed to use the restroom. “Hope,” she whispered.
Hope stirred and turned to look at Charity and she smiled. She slipped two fingers past the spikes on her lips and kissed the metal tips, then she pressed her fingers gently to Charity’s lips. “Chai-ree.”
“…And so, I have to beg you, Charity, go and find someone who will love you!”
“No!” Charity yelled at the computer screen…
Finally, Charity had received a text from Keyholder with a link to a new voice recording from Blue who had now been missing for almost four months.
The message was devastating.
“It’s been so long,” Blue said. “I haven’t seen another living person the entire time… Just these four blank walls, these chains, this chair… There is nothing to do. I think that they have been spiking my food with aphrodisiacs. I’m horny all the time - ALL the time! And they - generously - have left me with a variety of sex toys with which to entertain myself.
“I can’t control myself… Masturbation helps pass long boring hours where I sit and fret about a future that seems more and more hopeless. I can’t tell you how many orgasms I have in a day. But when I’m masturbating, I’m not thinking about this bland purgatory where I’m stuck. I think about you, Charity. But as soon as I have that orgasm, all I feel is guilt.
“I feel this collar locked around my throat. This key that has not been used to free you from a device that denies you your own orgasm. Every orgasm I have is one stolen from you. I’m so sorry!” Blue was obviously crying at this point.
“But, within minutes, regardless of the mental torture, my libido is on fire, my hands return to the available sex toys, I’m masturbating again.
“I’m breaking. I’m afraid I’ll never return… And so, I have to beg you, Charity, go and find someone who will love you!”
“No!” Charity screamed at the computer screen, tears beginning to run down her cheeks.
“We had a special relationship,” Blue’s voicemail continued. “We each thrived in our roles. I was the dominant and you were the submissive. We knew our roles. Our roles were utterly complementary. We had a ceremony where I promised to care for you foremost and you promised to obey me in all things. That is the relationship that we wanted together and it worked so beautifully.
“But, now I am gone and I will no longer be able to take care of you directly. So, I have to do what I can to keep my promise to you. Charity… as my submissive, as my slave… you must heed my final command. You must do as your Domme demands you to!
“You must go and submit yourself to another woman. Immediately! I demand it, Charity.” Blue’s voice was breaking again. “For, if I never return, you shall be forever chaste. And to find someone to love such a woman… to protect such a woman… we must turn to our community and choose an individual who would value the ownership of someone such as you. I have a list of recommendations, but I will let you decide…
“Zenovia Vashukevich once offered to buy you from me. She was willing to pay a very high price. I’m sure she would value you, pamper you, keep you extremely well. She’s extremely rich. Julieta Araya had a very soft spot for you. She likes pets. Jaelle Ngoy always wanted me to visit so she could train you as a pony girl. She thinks you are a natural. You would be free to run in the open air, then…”
The list went on as Charity listened in horror. Each woman that Blue mentioned, Charity had met. Many were Blue’s international friends. Each had been flirtatious perhaps, but Charity never imagined that any had wanted to buy her from Blue.
“I never told you this, but… I had a girlfriend before you… It didn’t end well, and I think that she hated me in the end, so I never brought it up… I guess that I even lied to you about it… But, she was so toxic… Her name is Tam Fir… Stay away from her…
“You’re going to need someone…” Blue continued. “Someone to take care of you. I’m not talking about your sister, Faith… I’m talking about someone who will truly love you… That is why I demand that you go and submit to one of these women. I demand it, Charity! You promised you would obey me forever. Do it! Fuck! Charity, you must do it! Do it as soon as possible!” Blue was obviously balling now, but she sounded angry too. “Do as I say! Do it this week! I demand it!”
Charity looked around the room she was sitting in. Would her new owner get the house too?
“Charity… After Tam, I found you. I love you. I always wanted to capture your heart…” Blue started laughing scornfully. “In the end I only succeeded in capturing your vagina…” There was a pop in the audio followed by white noise, then another pop and only silence.
Charity felt a hand on her shoulder. Hope. She swiveled her chair around and Hope sat on Charity’s lap. Charity carefully wrapped her arms around Hope - one around her upper chest, one around her abdomen - and pulled her as close as possible. She cried quietly into Hope’s hair, while Hope reached back and gently held Charity’s head.
“Wuhh! Ooo! Hree!” Hope laughed
Both Hope and Charity held out their right hands, palms down, flat. “Doh!”
“Wuhh! Ooo! Hree!” Hope said again. This time she held out two fingers and Charity’s hand was again flat. “Wooo!” Hope laughed and she squeezed Charity’s hand between her fingers. “Thithorth! I win!!”
“No!” Charity laughed. “You’ve just won once! You have to win two out of three!”
Hope looked confused, but she was still smiling. “I win!”
The front door opened and Faith walked into the kitchen. “Hey, baby! How are you all doing?”
Charity got up and hugged her sister. Hope held out her two fingers like she was cutting something. “Thithorth! I win!”
“The weird, naked girl has claimed victory. Is Charity cheating again?” Faith asked.
“Two out of three,” Charity protested.
“Yeah,” Faith said. “You’re a cheater, Charity. Cheater!” Faith was pointing at Charity. “Cheater!”
Hope took Charity’s hand in both of hers and raised it up. Then she did the cutting motion again across Charity’s palm. “Chai-ree, chea-uh!” She continued holding Charity’s hand tightly, smiling.
“Weelll,” Faith said dramatically, “You all seem to be doing quite well!”
“I’m so glad you’re back in town, Faith. I’m teaching Hope all the tricky intrica… the intrensi… the trickinesses of the English language,” Charity said.
“Uh-huh,” Faith grins. “Looks like rock, paper, scissors to me…”
Later after they had settled back into lunch (a fruit smoothie for Hope, who still preferred liquid meals), Faith asked Charity, “Have you had any luck with the cipher?”
“Cipher?” Charity asked. “The cipher?” Her look slowly transformed from confusion to horror.
“The cipher!” Faith repeated. “The code! That message with the upper and lower case letters.”
“I… I couldn’t remember what it was called…” Charity said. “I sort of somehow forgot about it…”
Faith’s face assumed an air of concern.
“But… I’ve been focused on something else… something better… I have this photo of a car that was following me,” Charity said quickly. “I tried to get Tumalo to track the license plate, but she just blew me off.”
“Oh! Let me see!” Faith said.
Charity handed her phone to Faith who began zooming in on the various details of the picture. “No fucking way!”
“What?” Charity asked.
“I know this car! I know who owns it! Look at the bumper stickers!” Faith said.
“Who?!” Charity reached out and laid a hand on top of Hope’s. Hope sometimes got a little keyed up when Charity and Faith started talking too excitedly.
“I worked with her,” Faith said. “Brilliant, but odd. Maybe she’s on the spectrum somewhere. Networking. Computer center operations. Her name is something really odd… She worked nights. Fedea. What is her last name? I remember trying to tell her jokes and she would just stare at me like she was trying to figure out why I was wasting air. Fedea… She took a package after our company merged last year… Whychus! Whychus! Fedea Whychus!”
“So she has tech skills?” Charity asked. “She could spoo… fake a text message?”
“Oh, hell yeah! She could totally black hat,” Faith said.
“What does she look like?” Charity asked, gripping Hope’s hand a little tighter.
“Frizzy. A ginger - faded,” Faith said.
“That’s got to be… Where does she live?” Charity asked.
“Baby, I don’t know. She didn’t throw parties,” Faith said, thinking. “Let me call Dawn. She might have an address for her.”
“Dawn?” Charity asked.
“Dawn in HR,” Faith said. She pulled out her phone and walked out of the room.
Hope was staring at Charity with concern.
“Don’t worry, Hope! We’re going to bust that bitch!” Charity said excitedly.
Hope shook her head, clearly not understanding what was going on. “Bithh?”
“The frizzy haired bitch!” Charity said. She held her hands up by her temples, her fingers pointing out just like Hope had done in the past.
“Day ah bru bah (click)?” Hope asked, standing up. “Day ah bru bah (click)?” she asked again pointing down to the ground. “Hone?” She looked around in a panic for a second, then ran from the room.
Faith walked back into the room still talking on her phone, “Thanks, Dawn. I owe you! She lives in Heceta! In the Four Sisters Mining Area.”
The sounds of metal clanging echoed from down the hall.
“Where did Hope go?” Faith asked looking up.
“We have to go to Heceta,” Charity said. “… but… I can’t leave the city limits,” she remembered. “Tumalo still thinks I’m a suspect… She’ll think I’m running. It would be a… a… some kind of crime.”
“Calm down, baby. I’ll look into it,” Faith said. “I’ll do a little investigating.”
“Cool,” Charity said. “I’m just going to go and make sure Hope is OK. I think she locked herself in the cage under the bed again…”
Charity was sitting in her office at work when her boss, Perit, and her lawyer, Metolius walked into her office.
“How are you doing, Charity?” Perit asked.
“Good… What are you guys doing? You are making me nervous,” Charity replied.
“Where is Hope?” Metolius asked.
“Uh… she’s at home… at my home, that is,” Charity replied.
“You just leave her there by herself?” Metolius asked.
“Yeah… she doesn’t really like to go out… She doesn’t like to wear clothes… Clothes snag on some of her… uh… decorations…” Charity folded her arms across her chest. “What do you all want? You look like you must want something.”
“We were…” Perit started, “Metolius and I were talking with Detective Tumalo and we have, sort of, come to the conclusion that it might be best if Hope moves back into the asylum.”
“What? No!” Charity said angrily. “You can’t lock her up in that place. She doesn’t belong there. She’s doing great where she is right now. She’s safe and she’s learning English and I'm learning about her.”
“Well…” Perit said, “here’s how it was explained to us…” She looked at Metolius for a second.
“Oh!” Metolius said. “Yes… With Tam’s assault case and the Ash Adams abduction, the best possible source of information… the best link… is Hope. Tumalo says that the Feds want to take over the questioning… the investigation… with Hope.”
“What about me? That’s what I’m working on!” Charity said. “I’m the only one that she has opened up to. She trusts me.”
“Ok,” Perit said, holding her hands up. “We agree, but it seems that Tumalo thinks that Hope needs to be… uh… in a more stable environment.”
“And with Blue being missing and all the troubles with that, Tumalo thinks it’s best to take custody of Hope, so you can, you know, focus on dealing with that.”
“What Perit is trying to say,” Metolius jumped in, “is that Tumalo thinks that the two of you together is a bad thing. Both of you are now ‘persons of interest’.”
“Grrr…” Charity said, turning red. “What a lo… a pile of fucking…”
“We have come to you,” Perit explained, pointing between Metolius and herself, “hoping that she, uh Hope, would come in voluntarily. Otherwise, Tumalo is considering getting a court order. It could be ugly… for you…”
“Come on, Perit! You know me! You know this is bad for Hope!”
“Under normal circumstances, it would not be what I would recommend, but… You have less than a week before they show up at your house with a team. So coming in voluntarily is the best thing for Hope, right now…”
Charity sat in her kitchen, despondent. She didn’t know how she was going to tell Hope that she would be taken back to the asylum.
For her part, Hope seemed preoccupied by the spice cabinet. She was systematically opening each bottle and smelling the contents. She had a habit of talking quietly to herself when she was concentrating on something. The pops and clicks of her language added a rhythm to the soft melody of her voice. Charity found it relaxing to listen to - in a way, it was hypnotizing.
Charity snapped out of her trance to find Hope gently pulling at her arm. Hope was pointing out the window.
“Moo,” Hope said.
Charity looked out and saw a gibbous moon beyond the tips of the fir trees. “Oh… Moonnnn,” Charity said, emphasizing the ‘n’ sound. “Otherwise you sound like a cow. Moooonnnn.”
“Moo - nuh,” Hope responded, still pulling at Charity’s arm. “Thorhina(click).”
“Ok, Ok! You want me to get up,” Charity said. She realized that Hope had a liquid measuring cup and a rubber spatula. She had been using the base of the spatula as a pestle and mashed some spices into a thick green paste. Apparently, she was still hunting for something more.
Hope pulled Charity by her hand to the back door of the house. The backyard was fairly private. No neighbor would likely see a naked, decorated woman in the small clearing back there. Charity opened the door to the chilly night air. Hope pulled Charity out the door.
Hope pointed at the ground, “Sih!” And she pressed on Charity’s shoulders.
Charity sat down on a soft bed of fallen evergreen needles. Hope pushed the measuring cup into Charity’s hands, then began moving around the yard touching trees and occasionally bending to pick at things on the ground. Eventually she returned with a collection of fir, some moss, a handful of mushy peat. She sat down next to Charity and dumped everything into the measuring cup. She snatched the spatula up and began mixing and grinding everything together.
Charity sat, shivering a little in the cold, but mostly just amused. “I hope that you don’t plan on eating that.”
Hope grabbed Charity’s hand and pulled her forefinger up to her lips.
“Ow!!” Charity said. Hope had impaled Charity’s finger on one of the spikes in her lips. A small drop of blood beaded on the skin and Hope shook Charity’s finger until it dripped down into the cup.
Hope mixed the cup some more as Charity sucked on her wounded finger. After a minute, Hope carried the cup into the center of the clearing where the light of the moon shone down through the Douglas firs. She set it on the ground and then returned to Charity, pulling her to her feet.
Hope tugged at Charity’s sleeve and then made a motion that seemed to clearly indicate she wanted Charity to take it off.
“It’s cold out here,” Charity said, but Hope was insistent. Charity’s sweatshirt fell to the ground and Hope began to point to Charity’s bra. Charity held her upper body and gave an exaggerated shiver. “It’s cold out here!”
Hope let out an impatient sigh and pointed between herself and Charity. “Thith-uhth. Moo. Moo-nuh.” She made a circling motion and pointed to where the measuring cup sat. Then she set out moving around the clearing pounding her bare feet on the ground. The chains embedded in her flesh began rattling out a rhythm as Hope twisted and turned a couple of circles. All the lapis gems bounced around sparkling blue in the moonlight. It was an amazing site and Charity couldn’t help but be mesmerized by Hope’s beauty.
After a couple of turns around the clearing, Hope stopped in front of Charity and pointed to her bra again.
“Ok! Ok!” Charity said, unfastening the back. Hope was already gently tugging at Charity’s pants by the time the bra hit the ground. A minute later, Charity was dancing around the clearing wearing only her chastity belt. Trying to follow Hope’s steps, giggling and trying to move like Hope.
Hope started to sing a song in her language. The pops and clicks of the words helped Charity find the right rhythm to move her feet. After a few more passes around the clearing Hope stopped again. She pointed at Charity’s mouth. “Mi-ah(tock)oo-nah! Mi-ah(tock)oo-nah!”
Charity tried to imitate Hope. She felt a little shy though. Hope rolled her blue eyes. “No!” She pointed to her ear and moved through the phrase more slowly emphasizing the notes for each syllable - making the (tock) sound distinct and loud. Charity picked it up again with a bit more enthusiasm. After all this time teaching Hope English there was something beautiful and fun to have Hope teach her something. “Mi-ah(tock)oo-nah! Mi-ah(tock)oo-nah,” they sang together.
Hope stopped singing, but signaled for Charity to continue. After a couple more rounds, Hope started singing something different, but complementary creating a more complicated rhythm and a beautiful harmony. Hope took Charity’s hands and they started dancing around through the moonlight again - Hope’s chains ringing in time with their movements.
Charity let herself be swept along, directed by Hope. Emotion swelled in her chest. She was participating in some sort of ritual with Hope which was so beautiful and physical and exhilarating.
Charity had always thought that Hope was a victim of some deranged artist - tattooed and pierced non-consensually, like Tam had been. She thought that perhaps it had been something done to her recently. But, that could not be. The way Hope moved… The way the chains rang out precisely in the rhythm of their dance… The way the jewels sparkled all around Hope’s body… She was not a victim of these modifications. These were her tools. Maybe she was some sort of shaman for her people. Maybe her decorations were a symbol of her status.
Charity realized that Hope had let go of her hands. She opened her eyes and saw Hope dancing around with her, singing. The entire clearing seemed to be awash in the blue glow. At one point Charity looked down at her own body. The chastity belt seemed to reflect the bluish glow. The upside down ‘Y’ design engraved on the faceplate even seemed to contribute its own gentle luminescence.
As Charity twisted and spun in the moonlight she thought she saw a brief flash behind her, then another. She turned and looked to the measuring cup set in the middle of the clearing. Another flash. A blue flame briefly burst from the mouth of the cup.
Charity’s voice dropped off and she slowly stopped moving. She focused on the cup. It was just a plain measuring cup with a lump of detritus once again. Charity shook her head and looked up towards Hope. She was on the other side of the clearing. She had also stopped dancing and stood with her arms outstretched. The chains from her arms hung down and glowed blue in the moonlight - never more like wings than right now. Hope was looking up towards the moon. Her blue eyes seemed to glow. Blue light flashed all around her body.
The jewels hanging from her chin, the rings of metal embedded in her breasts, the chain hanging from her navel with its swinging thimble - all were glowing.
Charity walked across the clearing to where Hope stood. She placed one hand at Hope’s waist and another on her cheek. She stared at Hope’s lips, lit blue by the spikes growing from them. “How cruel is this world”, Charity thought as she gazed at Hope’s lips, so badly did she want to kiss them. Hope’s lips bowed into a big smile and Charity turned her gaze to Hope’s eyes. She pulled Hope’s head towards her own and kissed her high on her cheek - a small chain bisecting her pursed lips.
“It’s not fair,” Charity said and she kissed the other side of Hope’s face.
Suddenly, she felt dumb for having been swept up in so much emotion. She couldn’t kiss Hope. She couldn’t even properly hug Hope without being lacerated by spikes. “I’m sorry,” Charity said.
Hope placed a hand over Charity’s where it rested on her face. She reached out her other hand and gently placed it on Charity naked breast and they stood, looking at each other for a moment.
“We… uh… should go inside before we freeze out here…” Charity said at last. She turned and headed back through the back door, hand in hand.
They went to the kitchen and Charity started to make hot chocolate (which Hope seemed to love with a particular zeal). “What does it mean?” Charity asked, trying to break the silence, even though she knew the words made no sense to Hope. “Mi-ah(tock)oo-nah?” Charity said and shrugged her shoulders. “What is Mi-ah(tock)oo-nah?”
Hope pointed to her heart and then made a motion like an explosion with her hands and fingers.
“A heart attack? Spontaneous combustion?” Charity asked.
Hope stepped up to the refrigerator and pointed to a photo of Blue. Then she touched Charity’s naked breast above her heart. “Mi-ah(tock)oo-nah,” she said.
Hope looked down at the floor for a second, then looked up at Charity again. She touched her breast over her heart. She said some words quietly. Then she reached out and placed her hand over Charity’s heart. She looked up into Charity’s eyes. “Mi-ah(tock)oo-nah,” she whispered.
Charity stared back into Hope’s eyes for a moment, searching. “Me too,” she whispered. “I think.”
Later that night, they lay together in Charity’s bed - Hope on her back, Charity propped up beside her. She was lightly drawing lines up and down Hope’s torso. Touching places where it was safe to touch.
“I wish that I could touch you,” Charity said. “I guess that we really are sisters though. Untouchable sisters. You are so beautiful. Your lips, your breasts. They way your body curves and swells. Your soft skin. So beautiful. So dangerous.” She bent over and kissed a spot on Hope’s abdomen forcing the woman to giggle softly.
Charity looked into Hope’s eyes, smiling: “If I could touch you… Mi-ah(tock)oo-nah,” Charity pointed at Hope’s crotch and mimicked the hand explosion gesture that Hope had used earlier, causing Hope to laugh again.
A serious look came over Hope’s face. She took Charity’s hand in hers and singled out the forefinger that had been pricked earlier in the evening. With her other hand, Hope collected the chain that dangled from piercings around her navel. She found the thimble at the end of the chain and held the opening towards Charity’s forefinger. She slowly pushed Charity’s forefinger into the thimble. Then she pushed Charity’s hand down toward her crotch. She pushed Charity’s thimbled finger into the forest of spikes arrayed at the top of her vagina. She pressed down until it rested on her clitoris and she moaned quietly. She jiggled Charity’s finger a little.
Charity smiled and took over control of the manipulation of the thimble as it manipulated Hope’s clit, watching Hope’s face for evidence of how well she liked each different move.
Hope sang again that night, but this time it was Charity who was leading, and the tune of ecstatic moans apparently was universal.
“There’s something that I have to tell you,” Blue said in the voice message that Charity received the next day. “I feel awful. I had no idea that something like this could happen. How could I have?
“But it has and I am to blame for all your suffering…
“We were having fun, weren’t we? Tease and denial. You said that you enjoyed it. You said that the orgasms you had with me were the best that you ever had. You said that you liked playing with the chastity belt. You said you liked it when I wore this fucking collar with the key. You said it was like you had control over me too. We were sharing your erotic torture. And I enjoyed that too. We were made for each other.
“But, I lied about one thing… I didn’t think it would matter… But, I lied… And I’ve been locked in this room forever and it feels like we may never see each other again… And this lie hangs, locked around my neck. Maybe if I ask forgiveness…
“I have to tell you this so that you understand why… why you must do as I have demanded…
“I told you that I had the chastity belt made for you. I actually have no idea who the manufacturer is, or where the belt was made, or how… I found it when I went on an expedition to Southern France before we were even dating. Not in a store or anything… I found it on the dig.
“We were looking through artifacts from the 1500s when I found the belt and the collar. There were two skeletons buried in a single unmarked grave. Two women had been buried together, face to face - one in the collar, the other in the belt.
“A number of tombs were found in the same area. Evidence suggests that all the bodies were those of accused witches, who tended to be buried alive.
“Well… I stole the belt and the collar… I never told anyone what I had found…
“I ran some experiments on the materials when I got back home… The belt and collar are even older than the 1500s. Older even than Christianity. The Egyptian pyramids were built about 4500 years ago, Stonehenge - about 5000 years. The belt and collar are older than both.
“…and there’s more…unfortunately, it’s even worse…”
“…and there’s more…unfortunately, it’s even worse…”
Charity sat trembling as she listened to the latest voice message from her abducted lover, Blue. So far, Blue had admitted that the chastity belt that was currently locked around Charity’s waist was a mysterious and ancient relic.
Charity’s first thought was that Blue’s sanity was slipping. She had been locked in isolation for so long, maybe her brain was inventing reasons behind her situation. Maybe this was all a desperate attempt to make sense of her current reality.
Still there was more to the message…
“…unfortunately, it’s even worse… You’re not the first woman on whom I’ve locked the belt…”
Charity felt her stomach twist and she looked down at her crotch. This piece of metal with which she had such a personal relationship, such intimate contact… The thought that it was worn by another woman first… For some reason she felt a sense of disgust. Then she felt anger - anger towards Blue. Then she felt guilty for feeling anger towards Blue.
“Tam. Tam Fir - the woman who was my girlfriend before you. She and I used to play tease and denial games too. I convinced her to wear the belt for longer and longer periods of time. After each release she would have earth shaking orgasms. She loved it. We were having a great time.
“I convinced her to wear the belt for a full menstrual cycle and she agreed. We locked everything down - her in the belt, me in the key collar. At the end of a month, Tam was ready to get out of the belt. But, she hadn’t started her menses yet, and I convinced her to wait another week.
“It seems that her periods were suppressed somehow. I convinced her to wait a second additional week. After that week she was so desperate for relief she was not sleeping well. She was starting to have trouble concentrating. She wanted out, but after a long argument, I convinced her to stay in it for a third additional week.
“Tam started having memory issues. She couldn’t think of longer words. At first I thought it was exhaustion, then perhaps something akin to Alzheimer's disease. It was different though. While her brain seemed to become duller, other senses became sharper. Her vision, for example, improved to the point that she did not need glasses anymore.
“I was curious. By this time, I was not so much convincing her to keep wearing the belt, I was forcing her to do it. After two full months she had still not had her period and she was still wearing the belt. She began having extreme difficulty using a computer keyboard. She began to have trouble differentiating between p’s and q’s and g’s when she was reading.
“Finally, the straw that broke the camel’s back is when, inexplicably one day, she forgot how to drive. I mean, she sat down in the driver’s seat, but she couldn’t remember what to do to make the car go. She never even put the keys in the ignition or anything.
“Of course, despite her growing list of handicaps, she knew exactly what was causing her problems. She stormed into the house and demanded for me to remove the belt. Of course, I relented, finally. We had the angriest sex ever. She was begging me to slap her and bite her neck and her breasts. It was kind of frightening, but, holy shit, it was hot. And she actually passed out during one of her orgasms.
“I thought that once she no longer had the belt on and her sleep returned to normal, her mental problems would resolve. I retaught her how to drive. Some words had completely been eliminated from her vocabulary. I thought she’d remember them, but in reality she had to relearn them. Her dyslexic-like symptoms never really resolved.
“We resisted the chastity belt for a while. Finally, I talked her into it. We’d just go for 24 hours. As soon as the belt was on, her libido was off the charts. She was cuddling and physically needy and restless. Then she became really anxious. ‘Take it off,’ she begged. ‘I have to go to the bathroom’.
“I reminded her that she could go with the belt on. It had never been an inconvenience. Still… She complained, yet she never actually got up and went into the bathroom. She became more and more angry with me. Finally, she could hold it no longer, but rather than actually use the bathroom, she went to the corner of the room and squatted and peed on the carpet. She had forgotten about the existence of toilets!
“She was utterly horrified with herself. She knew that peeing in the corner was the wrong thing to do, but she had no idea what the right thing was. She also knew exactly why she was forgetting things again. It was the belt.
“Of course I released her. But Tam had had enough and she moved out. That was the end of our relationship. Tam was terrified of the belt and, of course, I was utterly curious.
“Then I met you and we became lovers. You enjoyed the belt and I was always very conservative with the length of our games. I monitored you to make sure that you never showed signs of any kind of mental degradation. But, how could I have ever imagined what has happened?
“I have no idea how long I’ve been here in this room. It feels like a year. It could just as well be two months.
“I worry constantly about you, Charity. How long have you been forced to wear the belt? What has it done to you? Has the belt affected you the same way that it did Tam? Are you being transformed? And if you are transformed, what is the end state?
“That’s why you need someone to take care of you. You need to forget about me. I think that you will forget about me. One day I’ll just disappear from your mind… You need someone who will take care of your physical needs… at least as best possible. Choose someone in our BDSM community. Find someone who is interested in pet play. Find someone who won’t mind keeping you in a cage. Because, I think that you are going to need a cage. A big, strong cage. It will need to be very secure, because I’m not sure what might happen if you are out in the world. There are people in the world who will hunt you down and put you somewhere and study you. A lover’s cage would be better than, say, the asylum. There will be no one to love you in the asylum. Stay away from Perit…”
There was a popping sound and the voice message ended.
“Fuck!” Charity thought. Her hands were trembling. “What’s happening to me?”
It had been almost five months since she had been wearing the belt - more than twice as long as Tam had worn the belt (supposedly). She could still drive and use a computer. Charity quickly opened a document in her browser and typed the alphabet as quickly as she could…
“No problems with that,” Charity thought thankfully.
Sure. She was always horny as hell. But maybe she was immune to whatever had affected Tam. She had no trouble driving her car. She remembered what the purpose of a toilet was. On the other hand, she had been having trouble remembering words when she was talking sometimes.
What did this story tell Charity about her lover, Blue? She always thought that she and Blue had a beautiful, special romantic relationship based on mutual love and respect. Sure. Sure. Charity had told Blue that she would be her slave. But that was the spice that made their relationship special. After listening to this story, though, it sounded more like Blue was some kind of sociopath incapable of empathy, using people in ways to satisfy her own curiosity.
Charity could not conceive of a world where Blue would purposely subject her to some sort of harmful experiment. She could not believe that Blue would think of her as nothing more than an amusing lab rat. But, if the story was true…
Charity was a psychiatrist. She knew that people who live in isolation for extended periods can take on sociopathic traits. She also knew that isolation can cause an individual to develop huge fictitious scenarios simply to explain the horror that they are living in. That had to be what was going on…
Then again… Blue had never mentioned Tam before… And this would certainly explain those strange looks that Tam gave Charity in the past…
No! Charity loved Blue. That is what she remembered. That was the reality. She wasn’t going to let the events of the past months color that in any way. Besides, the number one priority was to rescue Blue. And with Faith’s help, they were getting closer to doing that!
Journal Entry 7:
Subject: Ash Adams - p-FEAR Installation
After a random normal sleep cycle, the subject, Ash Adams, wakes up bound strictly in her gynecological chair. Her arms are strapped down. Her legs are splayed apart and locked in position. Straps hold her torso to the padded chair and her head in the headrest. A Type 5 security blindfold head harness is locked on her head. It is tight and locked in position. Without the key, there is no way to slip the blindfold in any way.
The padded, vibrating post that had been entertaining her since the loss of her hands has been removed from the chair. A soft breeze from a quiet fan blows directly on her hairless crotch.
The subject’s initial reaction to this new configuration is subdued. She allows that her predicament is dictated by her owners by this point. But that changes the moment that she feels warm fingers touch the lips of her sex. It has been a very long time that the subject has seen or heard another human presence. And now to be touched…
Her heartbeat rises. “Hewoah?” she says - her diction reduced by the large beaded metal stud in her tongue. “Pweeze.” There is no response.
She is also suddenly very aroused. Particularly when she feels the fingers dip inside and spread her lubrication around her clitoris. She is being masturbated by Dea Dammasch Herself and no mortal could resist the caress of Her gentle manipulations. In no time, the subject succumbs to a particularly carnal orgasm and the Dea lifts her fingers coated in the subject’s ejaculate to the subject’s mouth to allow her to taste the product of her own sex. The fluid is smeared beneath the subject’s nose.
This taste and this smell are integral to the subject’s sense of arousal from this point on. They are pleasure.
The emissions of the subject’s vagina upon orgasm are plentiful due to the hormones she receives and the heightened and constant arousal she endures. These are collected and infused in the liquid nourishment she receives, strongly affecting the taste.
After countless iterations of orgasms at the Dea’s fingers, the subject is uninhibited in her vocalizations, screaming in sheer ecstasy with the cresting of each climax. But, as time passes we arrive to the point where, for the sake of progress, her screams must be silenced.
After a particularly rousing orgasm, the subject feels a pressure at her lips and opens her mouth like a baby bird expecting the reward of the Dea’s fingers upon which she could suck. Instead of fingers, though, an oddly shaped rubber mass is pushed into her mouth. The passage is not easy and she feels as though her jaw might break for a moment. But the mass is slick. It is also perfectly constructed, modeled after the interior of her mouth. When it finally slips into place, her teeth press into grooves and the metal bead on the top of her tongue stud snaps past a tight collar, trapping her tongue in its own little pocket.
The subject struggles a bit, a quiet mewling noise emitting from her nose, but she is well restrained. When she settles, she realizes that the gag is comfortable, easily bearable, and its presence, pervasive. A feeding tube is pushed through a bore in the gag and down her esophagus, terminating and anchoring in her stomach.
As time passes, the subject receives more orgasms at the fingers of the Dea and the liquid nourishment infused with her own emissions is pressed into the tube. The gag and the tube are slightly porous and with every feeding she tastes her own arousal.
The subject awakens eventually to find she is no longer in charge of her own breathing. Tubes have been passed through her nose, down her trachea, into her lungs and a finely tuned machine inflates and pulls forth air in a measured and closely monitored manner. The air is humidified by the effluence of her sex and the scent wafts through the porous tubes in her nose - a perfume that gains and recedes over time always reminding her of the pleasures associated with it.
Plumbing has also been installed down below. A catheter has been extended into her bladder and her urine is now routed into her stoppered rectum where it is stored until an enema is utilized to flush all her wastes clear on a scheduled and frequent basis. The tubing materials are conductive and an extremely mild current powered by the subject’s own body heat travels around providing a constant pleasant buzzing sensation. The tasks of human waste are no longer the subject’s concern.
Surprisingly, of all the phases, this is the most impactful - the removal of the blindfold. The subject has just quietly endured another mind-blowing orgasm and her muscles are slowly relaxing. Dea Dammasch reaches up to the head harness, unlocks the buckle and slips the pad from over the subject’s eyes.
In a sense, this is the first moment when the subject looks upon the Goddess who gives her life. As an observer I prefer to focus upon the subject’s eyes as they are slowly uncovered. They blink several times, focusing for the first time in some while - a green glow cast upon her face. I suppose she had some expectations as to what she would see when the blindfold is pulled away. But no expectation could ever meet the reality of gazing upon the Dea. Some would suggest that the first look is one of horror. But, I think that it is more akin to surprise. No mortal experience, after all, could prepare one to gaze upon the visage of their Goddess. She is the most beautiful being they will ever see and they will long for every chance they may get to see her again for the rest of time.
Dea Dammasch, aeternum amorem et obsequium meum spondeo.
“I don’t even know how to say this,” Charity said, then she started crying.
She was sitting at the table with Hope. The asylum fetters were sitting on the table between them as well as the hoodie and sweatpants Hope had worn while she was there. Hope was eyeing them stoically.
“So, Detective Tumalo, you know, ‘Bitch’, as we have called her,” Charity started.
“Bitth…” Hope nodded.
“Yeah, Bitch, she wants to take you from me,” Charity said, tears falling more thickly. Hope obviously did not understand.
Charity pointed at Hope, then she pointed at the fetters and clothes. “Bitch wants you. You will have to put these on. She wants you in her cage.”
Hope shook her head. “Hh-oe luhh Chai-ree. Hh-oe no luhh Bitth. Mi-ah(tock)oo-nah. I you caehh.”
“I love you too,” Charity said. “They’re making me… they’re making me…” Charity couldn’t say anymore. Her voice was broken and tears were running down her face. Hope took Charity’s hand. She stepped around the table and motioned for Charity to hug her. She turned her back to Charity and shuffled back so Charity could safely wrap her arms around her without cutting herself on any skin spikes.
“How do I communicate that I am being forced to do this?” Charity said out loud. Hopefully they still had a few more days together, before she had to take Hope back to the asylum.
Two hours later, Charity sat in her living room in deep meditation… “I’m going to have to move into the asylum with Hope somehow,” she was saying to herself. Maybe Perit would allow it. Would she be put in shackles to move from room to room? Would she be strip searched? What would they say about her chastity belt? What if she started to ‘forget’ major things like Blue predicted? Would she become Perit’s patient? Would they lock Charity in the same room as Hope? Why was she getting so horny, just thinking about this?
The ringing of chains heralded Hope’s arrival into the living room and Charity quickly moved her hands away from her aching breasts. How could Charity be conscientious about her own arousal when Hope pranced around completely naked all the time? Maybe it was because she was fantasizing being locked in a cage with Hope…
Hope was carrying the measuring cup full of green gloop from the previous night as well as the clothes that Charity had discarded. Charity was surprised and slightly concerned that Hope would go out naked into the backyard in full daylight.
She walked to where Charity sat and knelt before her, holding the measuring cup up to Charity like some sort of offering. She said some words, bowing her head towards the floor.
“Hello to you too… um… I guess,” Charity said.
Hope stood up again and took Charity’s hand pulling her to her feet as well. Hope began speaking at length pointing at the measuring cup and Charity and herself.
“Ok… I’m not going to have to eat that, am I?” Charity asked, pointing at her mouth, which made Hope laugh.
“No! No eah!” Hope said. She raised the measuring cup to her face and used her hand to fan the air near the rim. She breathed deeply through nose, lifting her head back with her eyes closed and a somewhat dreamy, ecstatic set to her face.
She held the cup towards Charity. “I’m not going to get stoned, am I?” Hope encouraged Charity to smell the contents. Charity took a quick sniff - very woodsy, fresh, clean. She felt a popping sensation in her nose. She hadn’t even realized that her sinuses were mildly swollen until suddenly they weren’t and she could breathe so easily and feely. She felt a rush in her entire body.
“Wow! That really cleared me up,” Charity said.
Hope smiled and nodded. She raised her arms wide, looked up, and started talking.
Charity looked up at the ceiling, but quickly deduced that Hope seemed to be praying or giving thanks to a higher power - whatever that might mean to Hope.
Hope then looked at Charity. She lowered her arms, but then slowly slid her hands up along her hips, across her waist, briefly cupping and raising her breasts. She continued lifting her arms higher and higher until her hands were straight over her head.
“You!” she said and glanced up towards her hands.
Charity raised her arms just like Hope had. Hope reached down and tugged Charity’s t-shirt up, pulling it over her head and throwing it off to the side. She then tugged gently at Charity’s pajama shorts. Charity let Hope slip them over her hips. Charity was now naked, except for the chastity belt.
Hope was speaking directly to Charity. She held up one finger, occasionally glancing up and distinctly pointing. She picked up the measuring cup of green sludge. She looked at her metal tipped finger and shook her head, “No Hh-oe! Chai-ree!”
Charity held up her right hand with her forefinger extended. Hope grabbed Charity’s hand and dipped it into the measuring cup gathering a large dollop of sticky, green paste on Charity’s finger. Hope then lifted Charity’s hand up to Hope’s forehead and drew a thick smear from hair line to brow. Next, Hope forced Charity’s hand lower and drew a second swath from navel down to just above the sharp spikes extending from her clitoral hood.
She shoved Charity’s hand in the measuring cup again, gathered more of the green goop and directed Charity’s hand to paint the same lines again on her own body - the lower line truncated somewhat by the top edge of the chastity belt.
Hope turned skyward again, said a few words and then motioned with her hands like something descending from above into the room. As she did it Charity actually felt a surge of tingling or energy of some sort originate from the top of her head, pass down her torso and settle deep in her sex. “Whoa!!”
Hope held up two fingers, then pointed to herself: “Oh (pop) ee ay o tok (click) oh thu hye-th (pop) (click) ee an yo eh heat eh (click) un thorhina.”
Charity remembered that this was Hope’s full name in her native tongue.
Hope forced Charity’s hand again, using her goop-heavy forefinger to first draw a diagonal line across her own forehead and then a second, from midway down her left inner thigh up to her labia. She repeated the process, forcing Charity to draw the same lines on her own forehead and inner thigh. Hope said a few words, then knelt and mimed a kiss towards the center of Charity’s chastity belt.
Suddenly, Charity felt a great surge in arousal, her vision dimmed for a second and one of her knees almost buckled. “Holy shit! I think I’m going to…” But, she did not.
Hope was holding up three fingers. She pointed at Charity. “Chai-ree.”
Hope directed Charity to draw another diagonal forehead swath and another line up the inside of each woman’s right inner thigh. She picked up Charity’s t-shirt from the floor and twisted it lengthwise until it formed a tight rope. She indicated to Charity to hold her wrists, crossed in front of her, and when she did, Hope quickly looped the shirt around Charity’s wrists, loosely binding them together.
“Bondage!” Charity thought and for a moment she again thought her knees may buckle.
Hope began to lead Charity through the house. Charity walked stiffly behind. Her body was on fire with arousal and her brain fully engaged in this curious and deeply erotic ceremony. The door to the cellar was open and Hope pulled Charity down the stairs and across the room to the rack where the wheel had been unlocked and the wrist cuffs open and their chains unwound.
“You!” Hope said forcefully pointing at the rack.
Charity had already stepped up on the platform, positioned her feet appropriately and was beginning to recline when she thought to ask: “Do you know how to operate this thing?”
Whether she understood the question or not, Hope did not answer. She wrapped the cuffs tightly around Charity’s ankles and buckled them securely. She then looked up at Charity and began speaking sharply, pushing on Charity’s torso until she leaned back against the angled rack table and, before Charity knew it, Hope forced each of her arms up. In moments, Charity’s wrists were tightly bound, hanging from chains near her ears.
Charity watched as Hope stepped over to the wheel and began to pull down on one of the spokes. She heard the clicking as the pawl settled in each successive cut on the ratchet wheel. Click, click, click. Charity’s arms slowly rose.
When Hope stopped turning the wheel, Charity’s arms were raised over her head, but her elbows were still slightly bent. “More,” Charity breathed out, shivering with ecstasy.
Hope picked up the measuring cup and poured some of the green goop into the palm of her hand. After rubbing her hands together she began to massage Charity’s breasts, coating her entire chest in the green paint. The salve was like a sports cream that felt hot and cold at the same time. Not stinging. But oh! So pleasant. Charity’s nipples were rock hard and occasionally Hope would twist one gently between two metal fingertips. “More,” Charity moaned.
Hope returned to the wheel and Charity’s arms began to extend further until they were pulled taut. Slowly, her feet lifted from the platform.
“Oh, Hope!” Charity said breathlessly. She was beginning to believe that she might be able to accomplish the impossible. She felt that she was closer than she had ever been to having an orgasm while wearing the belt. “More.”
The cuffs around Charity’s ankles began to bite into her skin. The chain that anchored them had reached its maximum extent. Every click now represented an additional stress on Charity’s arms and legs and hips and shoulder. “Oh, Hope, touch me again.” Charity slammed her head back against the bed of the rack. Just a little caress would take her there. (Click).
Charity was moaning. Her breathing became labored. (Click). “Hope! A little bit more!” Hope’s metal fingertips traced lightly over Charity’s fiery skin leaving a spasm of shivers in their wake. “Mmmm!”
(Click) “Ohh!! Hope… ssttop there… I don’t think…” (Click) “Arrg!”
Hope ran her fingers up over Charity’s body. Charity’s breaths were limited short tortured gasps and she grunt with each. “No more…”
Charity’s confidence that she would have an orgasm had peaked, now she was beginning to become concerned that she would be denied again. But how? Every time Hope touched her body, she thought she would combust. “I can’t…” Charity whispered. “No…” (Click).
“Arrrrg!” A hoarse cry escaped Charity’s mouth, her taut body trembled violently. She was being pulled apart. “Yellow! Yellow!” She opened her eyes. Hope was standing over her with a stern, emotionless, look on her face. Charity tried to speak again, but she didn’t have enough breath. She shook her head. She saw Hope frown and step back toward the wheel. “Noooo!”
Charity couldn’t breathe. Her vision became fuzzy. But she was there! Every muscle in her body was contracting at the same time. She was frozen as the intensity of the situation rose and rose.
“Argh!” It was a very muted gasp. There was a rattling sound. Charity realized it was her body trembling. Suddenly her muscles released for a second. Charity gasped but then the contractions locked her up again, perhaps even more tautly than before - squeezing her internal organs - her heart, her lungs, her rectum, her womb, her vagina. An orgasm!
Her muscles relaxed and Charity sucked in a small breath. A sustained contraction as dopamine was pumped around her body. A relaxation and a breathless scream. Hope did it! Charity had never felt something so powerful! Oh, fuck! Another contraction!
This went on for longer than Charity thought possible. She was barely conscious - a hair’s breadth from slipping away. In French, they would refer to this as “la petite mort”, the little death, but there was nothing “petite” about this. This was the biggest fucking Oh! ever.
The waves eventually passed. But Charity was still sprawled most tautly. She was still locked in her rack stretched much beyond her comfort zone. Certainly more than she could endure. “Hope…?” she whispered as the ecstasy of the orgasm began to subside.
She opened her eyes. “Hope? Please…”
She didn’t see Hope anywhere. But she couldn’t move much to look around either. “Hope?” she whispered.
She thought back on her orgasm - the sounds of it. She heard the creaking of her bones, the rattling of her limbs against the bed of the rack. She remembered her gasps for air. But there had been other sounds in the room at the same time. Some that she had not made. Hope’s muffled voice… A cacophony of footsteps thumping on the stairs…
“Hope?!” Charity cried in a voice little more than a whisper. “Hope!!”
Charity remembered the sound of the slamming of the cellar door.
“Hope?” No sound actually left Charity’s mouth, she only had the energy to move her lips now.
It had been several hours since Charity had been bound and stretched on the rack. Her body was riddled with pain and she continued to have trouble breathing. Still, there was no sign of Hope. Charity knew that it was only a matter of time before she succumbed to dislocated joints, torn muscles, torn nerves - too long and she might lose the ability to control her arms and legs. She’d be a quadriplegic for the rest of her life.
“I’m going to die here…”
Journal Entry 8:
Subject: Ash Adams - p-FEAR Installation
A black orb has been hanging from the ceiling of Isolation Theater 3 since the subject, Ash Adams, has been interred there. From her perspective below, she is unable to see the opening into the orb. She only sees its smooth, perfect, spherical surface. A knob with a universal mounting ring extends from the bottom of the orb - the only anomaly in an otherwise perfect sphere. Perhaps she thinks this is an unused mounting point for the Isolation Theater. She is about to discover that this featureless orb will soon be installed over her head and sealed. It will be her identity from this point forward.
The subject awakes from a sleep period to find she is graced by the presence of the Dea Dammasch. Familiarity has tempered the once visceral reaction the subject experienced in proximity with the Dea. All components have been prepared and the subject is fully alert for the final installation of the orb.
First a set of speakers are implanted in the subject’s ear canals. An expanding foam is squeezed in behind the electronics which completely fills the space. The foam will harden over the next few days. The cured foam settles at a value of 4.2 on Moh’s Hardness Scale - about the same hardness as fluorite crystal. From now on, that which the subject is allowed to hear will be controlled by her handlers.
Next the Dea spreads a thick, sticky, conductive gel over the entirety of the subject’s head. Two state of the art individually controlled high pixel density, deep color video screens are pressed into place over each eye. From now on, once again, that which the subject is allowed to see will be controlled by the handlers. Her vision is activated and connected to a feed from cameras mounted in the Isolation Theater so she may continue to observe her evolution.
The inner shell, made of a flexible metal micro matrix individually manufactured for the curvature and topology of the subject’s head, is installed. There are holes for wiring and air tubes and food tubes. Flat sound proof cups press around the ears. The front and back halves of the inner shell are pressed together and an electrical current of specific frequency and amplitude is applied to a collection of leads which seal and meld the parts together as one.
A tall posture collar of metal and foam is wrapped around the subject’s neck. Slots on the upper back of the collar mate with fixtures on the inner shell. Neck flexibility is not a necessity going forward. Turning her head from side to side is no longer possible or even necessary.
The orb’s outer surface is then fitted around the subject’s head. It has been manufactured in two parts. Life support connections are secured in an internal mount under the subject’s chin. Generally there is a gap of about one inch give or take between the inner and outer shell. When the two halves have been mounted on the posture collar and tightly mated together. A mechanical knob is turned which controls connecting screws to pull the two parts of the orb’s outer shell together to form the perfect sphere.
After a final round of life support tests are performed, the expanding foam is systematically injected into the space between the inner and outer shell of the helmet orb. The inner shell has some degree of flexibility and so absorbs the brunt of the foam’s expansion. This results in a persistent and constant pressure over the entire surface of the subject’s head. The foam also leaches through a series of pinhole slots filling the inside of the ear cups. Due to the pressure of the foam inside the orb, it will harden to a crystal with a hardness of about 7.4, slightly higher than quartz.
The orb is not designed to be removed. The subject would most likely not survive any attempt to do so. Never, has it been attempted.
A panty shaped framework of metal is built around the subject’s crotch. This framework houses the pumps for food and waste and the machinery for the ventilator which pushes and pulls air into the subject’s lungs. Also, there is a mount for the feeding tube. Two ultra quality cameras are mounted on each side of the subject’s mons as are high bandwidth microphones.
Flexible metal insulated tubes are run from the panty framework to the connection interface on the “chin” of the orb. The feed from the cameras is connected to the subject’s video screens.
From now on liquid nourishment will be injected directly through a mechanical port into the subject’s vagina where it will be held. A pump will transport the nourishment through the tubes up to the orb, and down the esophageal tube into the stomach at a static rate. The subject will never again feel the wax and wane of hunger. It has no purpose for the subject anymore. Additionally this system will act as a douche to keep all internal organic spaces healthy. The process of food injection and the constant buzz of the pump will also contribute to a substantial arousal baseline.
Now, the subject sees, hears, tastes, and smells through interfaces at her crotch. In effect, her center of perception, once perceived to align with her head, now has been colocated with her center of arousal. It is a testament to the fluidity of the human brain that the two systems become intricately and eternally linked. Descartes's First Principle has effectively been permanently replaced for our subject. Henceforth it shall be, “I’m aroused, therefore I am.”
The Dea crouches between the subject’s thighs and looks deeply into her new mechanical eyes. “Ah(click)oh lee(tock)oh,” she says in the language of the Dea. She thanks the subject for her sacrifice and wishes her a long and productive period of service. Finally, raking the surface of her finger across a sensor centered between the subject’s mechanical eyes and interfaced with a stimulator swathing the subject’s clitoris inside the metal panty framework, the Dea sends the new acolyte, into the first of an eternal regimen of cycles of arousal and orgasmic ecstasy.
Ash Adam’s permanent Focus Equipment And Restraints (p-FEAR) installation is now complete.
Dea Dammasch, aeternum amorem et obsequium meum spondeo.
“Charity! Charity! Holy shit! I’ll get you down! Hold on, baby!”
Faith ran across the cellar to the rack. She released the brake and quickly lowered the chains. Too quickly perhaps. Charity’s feet landed on the platform, but her legs were too weak to hold up her body and quickly buckled.
“Uhhh!” Charity said somewhat delirious with pain. “Hope…”
Faith supported Charity’s body against the bed of the rack as she released the wrist shackles. Eventually, she was able to undo the ankle cuffs as well and she helped Charity lay down on the floor.
“Hope did this to you?” Faith asked in a surprised voice.
“Check the cage under the bed,” Charity whispered in a hoarse voice.
“I already looked there when I was trying to find you,” Faith said. “Hope’s not in the house.”
Slowly Faith helped Charity up the stairs to the bathroom and then she helped her lay in her bed.
“Did the police take her?” Charity asked.
“I don’t know, baby,” Faith said. “The prisoner transport shackles and her asylum hoodie and sweats are on the kitchen table. You lie and rest. I’ll call Detective Tumalo and figure out what is going on.”
Charity shook her head and watched her sister walk out of the room.
Her phone beeped. A text message had arrived. Charity picked her phone up. It was from Keyholder - a link to another voice message from Blue… Slowly Charity made her way to her computer and typed the link into the address bar. She pressed the play button and Blue’s trembling, sad voice began to whisper out of the speakers…
An hour later Charity staggered stiffly from her bedroom to the kitchen where Faith was finishing up a call. Charity’s eyes were red from crying.
“Tumalo says the police did not take Hope,” Faith reported. “And I called Perit too. Hope is not at the asylum. Are you going to be ok, baby?”
“Yeah… I need some water… Physically, I’m feeling better…” Charity staggered to the sink.
“Baby? What is that green paint you have all over you?”
“Oh… uh… can we talk about that later?” Charity said, absently looking at her green forefinger. “I’m really worried about Hope. We need to find Blue…”
“Yeah, Baby,” Faith said. “Um… I was thinking I’d go drive around. How difficult can it be to find a naked, decorated woman? Tumalo has posted an APB for her. I’d rather that we find her, than Tumalo. You stay here and rest. She most likely will come back here, don’t you think? I mean has she ever navigated around the city?”
“No. She would probably be lost, but I don’t understand…,” Charity said, dazedly.
“Don’t worry, babe,” Faith said. “We’ll find her.”
Faith had only been gone five minutes when Charity received another text from Keyholder: “Follow my instructions or you will never see Blue again.”
“Fuck!” Charity screamed at the phone. “What about Hope?!”
Another text came in. “Put on that little red party dress. Wear your Bottega Veneta’s. Nothing else. Call a uhsd. Further instructions to come.”
Charity blinked rapidly, rereading the text again and again. “Uhsd? What the fuck is a ‘uhsd’?” She looked up towards the ceiling. “What the fuck is a ‘uhsd’?!?” she screamed. She tapped the same thing into her phone and sent the message, which, as always, returned straight back to her own phone.
Another message: “You need to get moving. Have you forgotten what a uhxd is? Go get dressed now.”
Charity went to her room and found the red dress. She stepped into the bathroom and took off the t-shirt she had been wearing. “Oh, fuck…” She had three bold green lines on her forehead and her entire chest was painted green. It was quite obvious how the paint had been applied to her chest by the five fingered hand prints radiating around the perimeter.
Charity took a washcloth and soap and began scrubbing her face. Five minutes later when the next text message from Keyholder arrived, the paint was only slightly faded. “This is your first warning to get moving. I will not give you very many warnings,” the text message read.
She gave up on her face paint, and pulled on the red dress. It was low cut in the front with spaghetti straps. The dress was designed to show a little skin. Unfortunately, some area of the visible skin on her chest was stained green.
Charity strapped the Bottega Venetas on her feet and went to her computer. “Now, what the hell is a ‘uhxd’?” She typed it in her search engine but came up with no logical results. “What is a uhxd?” she yelled at the ceiling.
“Do I need to send a definition of a thxd to you?” the next text message read.
“What the fuck? You can’t keep changing the word!” she screamed. Searching for ‘thxd’ brought up a Thai food photo account. Maybe she was supposed to order some Thai food?
“A thxi is something you hire to take you from one place to another,” the next text read.
Charity’s nerves were racing. Her anxiety was extremely high. Maybe a ‘thxi’ is some moving company?
“A car licensed to transport passengers in return for payment of a fare. A taxi,” the next message from Keyholder read.
“A what?” Charity thought, then screamed towards the ceiling. “You mean like a rideshare service like Ovrr or Riide? A cab!”
“A taxi, 541-555-1212,” the next message said.
Charity called the number. As she was waiting for the cab to arrive, she flipped back through the messages with Keyholder. They read as follows:
“Put on that little red party dress. Wear your Bottega Veneta’s. Nothing else. Call a taxi. Further instructions to come.”
“You need to get moving. Have you forgotten what a taxi is? Go get dressed now.”
“Do I need to send a definition of a taxi to you?”
“A taxi is something you hire to take you from one place to another.”
“A car licensed to transport passengers in return for payment of a fare. A taxi.”
Every message said ‘taxi’ now. How did Keyholder change the content of a previously sent message? How did ‘uhsd’ get switched to ‘taxi’? Why didn’t Keyholder just call it a cab? This had to be some kind of purposeful brainfuck. Charity knew exactly what a cab was.
Keyholder directed Charity and her cab to the city’s restaurant district. She had to go into a bar where a pint of lager was waiting for her.
“I’m not supposed to drink alcohol with the medication I am taking,” thought Charity as she sat down at the bar.
“Alcohol negates the benefits of the medication you have been taking. This will give us a preview of what may come as the belt transforms you,” the next text message read. “Drink the pint!”
Charity sat at the bar and began to drink. The bar was about half full. She wondered if Keyholder was here at the bar watching her. No one seemed too suspicious, but she began to realize that people were staring at her. “The green paint!” she thought. “Keyholder is just trying to embarrass me. Just own it!”
“Is that a tattoo on your face or just makeup?” a woman asked.
“It’s body paint,” Charity responded, taking another large gulp from her drink.
The woman kept staring. “I was performing a ritual,” Charity explained, “because I’m a witch.”
“Hey babe,” a guy further down the bar said. “You can use your magic on me!”
“I’m also a lesbian,” Charity responded.
“No problem. I can straighten you up,” the guy laughed, apparently thinking he was either funny or original.
“It’s too late for me,” Charity said. “I was indoctri… I was corrup.. I was ruined as a middle school girl. I read banned books.”
As soon as Charity finished the pint, a text message directed her to go to a bar three doors down the street. “Drimk!” Another pint was awaiting her…
Once that beer had been drained, a text message directed her to the next bar down the street. “Drfmk!”
“Holy shit, I feel like a bloated wh… a bloated… large fish thing…,” Charity thought as she was directed from the fourth stop on her forced pub crawl, down a set of stairs into a dingy basement bar. This time a shot was waiting for her - something with Kahlua. “Djfmg!” She threw the drink back and stumbled to the bathroom door. “Beer, then liquor. Never… never… shic…,” she mumbled to herself. “Pee!”
As she sat, relieving herself, she noticed that the bathroom stall was spinning. “Widdershi… Counter clockwise,” she mumbled. Charity remembered that she never had more than two drinks in public. Now, she had had five.
When she stood up from the toilet she twisted her ankle but caught herself on the wall of the stall. Why do women hobble themselves with their choice in shoes? Such a ridiculous thing to do. She took off her Bottega Venetas. “Well, they are pr… hot…” She tossed the heels against the wall and staggered out of the bathroom barefoot.
When she returned to the bar another shot was waiting for her. She tried to drink it but half of it ran down her chin. She picked up a napkin and was dabbing at her chest.
A group of three extremely pretty women were sitting nearby staring at her. Charity smiled at them. She could feel her libido beginning to rise. Her sex was on fire under the chastity belt. One of the women said something about Charity’s war paint(?) She was pointing to Charity’s face.
“Oh yeah,” Charity said. “I… all over?” She pushed the spaghetti strap off her shoulder and let the front slide down to reveal her right breast.
A second woman stepped up to Charity laughing and helped pull the strap back up to cover Charity again. She said something, but Charity was too mesmerized by the movement of her lips to understand. She kissed the woman passionately. At first the woman’s response was reluctant, but then she seemed to return Charity’s passion.
The first woman from the group pulled Charity away from her friend. She was extremely attractive too, so Charity started kissing her instead. “So… pret… so…” The three women were laughing with one another talking about something. One put her arm around Charity, which was good because Charity felt like she might fall down. “I… shoes.”
Charity kissed another one of the women, she couldn’t remember which one, but it felt really good. She opened her eyes and recognized a face across the room.
Police detective Tumalo, currently off duty, had just sat down at the bar.
Suddenly, Charity felt a surge of anger and she pulled away from the woman she had been kissing. She wanted to say something really cruel to Tumalo. She wanted to scream at her to do her job and find Blue. Couldn’t she understand that this is what Charity would become if Tumalo didn’t do her fucking job?
Charity’s new friends were laughing and they tried to keep her from advancing on Tumalo. Charity shook off their hands. She felt enclosed suddenly. Trapped by the walls and noise. Even her dress, flimsy as it was, felt constricting and itchy. She violently tugged on it, ripping the straps. The remains of the dress slipped over her hips and settled at her feet on the floor.
“Ms McKenzie,” Tumalo said calmly from her seat. “I… “ A series of words left Tumalo’s mouth. “…djfmg…” Perhaps the bar was too loud to hear. “…call you a uhsd.”
Except the bar was quiet.
“OK,” Charity thought, “say something witty and cruel.” But she couldn’t think of anything and staring at Tumalo made her more and more angry. “Aaaarghhhh!” Charity lunged at Tumalo with her fists raised.
Of the two women, Tumalo had vastly greater combat skills. And despite Charity’s feral, drunken rage, it was only a matter of seconds before Charity’s head was flat against the bar and her hands locked in cuffs behind her back.
Charity awoke in some strange bed. She had a splitting headache. Her dreams had been very unsettling. Her sheets were very scratchy.
Charity’s eyes popped open. She wasn’t lying underneath any sheets. She was wearing orange pajamas. She sat up in bed and looked around, slowly placing her bare feet on the cool, hard floor next to her bed. The room was gray concrete and the door was a wall of bars.
“Oh…” Charity felt like she was going to throw up. She remembered being in a bar… throwing a punch at Detective Tumalo. What happened to her dress? “Oh, shit. I’m in jail?”
Charity looked down. She was wearing a baggy, orange, short sleeve shirt made of a thick stiff material. She wasn’t wearing a bra. She was wearing baggy, long pants held up by an itchy elastic band.
Charity let her hand slide over her crotch. Who dressed her in this prison garb? She rapped a knuckle against the hard metal faceplate covering her sex. Of course the chastity belt was still locked around her hips. No one could ever take it off.
That’s what Blue had said in that voice message that Charity received the day before.
“Without me… without the key, no one will ever touch your pussy again.”
That was Blue’s voice message sent the previous day. However, Keyholder must have cruelly edited the message, cutting and copying the last part of the sentence so it repeated over and over again. “No one will ever touch your pussy again. No one will ever touch your pussy again…” For fourteen minutes.
And now the memory of the message was playing in her head again like an earworm… nonstop…
“…no one will ever touch your pussy again. No one will ever touch your pussy again. No one will ever touch your pussy again. No one will ever touch your pussy again. No one will ever touch your pussy again. No one will ever touch your pussy again…”
Early in the morning an officer with a food cart came by Charity’s cell. “You had quite the bender last night, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Charity was happy that she could actually formulate words. She had been worried that she had lost the ability to speak.
“Well, this is the drunk tank. Luckily for you, Detective Tumalo is not going to file any charges, so you should be able to collect your personal effects in a few hours after the bureaucrats are satisfied and head on home. I believe that Detective Tumalo, herself, is going to come and collect you.”
“Thank you, Ma’am,” Charity said as the officer handed her a protein bar, a bottle of water, and ibuprofen.
Charity lay back down on the fold out bed and tried to calm her racing mind. Hope was still missing. Blue was still missing. And Charity was terrified by her actions the night before - at least, what she remembered…
She felt like she couldn’t understand what people were saying. She couldn’t form the words she wanted to express. She had been incredibly horny - kissing every woman that stepped near her. She had been so quick to anger. She had never felt the need to physically attack someone ever in her life before. Was the belt turning her into an animal? Was it stripping her of her ability to reason? She was extremely afraid. “I’ve got to get out of here and get a dose of the medicine,” she thought. Anything to prevent her from losing her humanity.
After a couple of hours, the officer returned with a set of full prisoner restraints. “It’s policy,” the officer explained as she cuffed Charity’s hands to a belt which had another chain descending to a set of ankle fetters.
Charity was escorted down a hall into a room with a table and two chairs. Charity sat down and the officer linked Charity’s ankle chain to a loop on the floor. After waiting another ten minutes, Detective Tumalo walked into the room and sat down. She placed a phone on the table. “I think this is yours.”
Charity started to reach for it, but the chains prevented her from succeeding. “Yes, Ma’am.”
Tumalo picked it up and activated the screen. “You should protect your device with a pin, or something. Otherwise, anyone can thumb through your phone.”
“I do,” Charity said nervously.
“Doesn’t look like it,” Tumalo said, swiping from screen to screen. “I took the liberty of reviewing your text log. Seems like you kept a good record of last night’s activities… which bars… how many drinks… You’re a buck 10? A buck 15? Your blood alcohol content was quite high…”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Charity said. “I don’t usually drink. At all.”
Tumalo kept scrolling through the text stream. “I don’t really understand this thread though,” Tumalo continued. “Some messages are listed as being from ‘Keyholder’, but they are sent from your phone. Are you ‘Keyholder’?”
“Am I supposed to have my lawyer with me if you are asking questions?” Charity asked.
“Don’t worry Metolius is on her way… and your boss, too… Perit…”
“Why Perit?” Charity asked.
Tumalo ignored Charity’s question. “These web links in your text messages are pretty wild.” Tumalo seemed to be watching some kind of video on Charity’s phone. “What is this? Lesbian body modification hardcore porn? Heh… These two women have their tongue piercings locked together. Do you like this stuff?”
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Charity said, staring at the table.
“It looks like you stored it in your message history. At least your ‘Keyholder’ personality did,” Tumalo said.
Finally, Tumalo put the phone down on the table. “You’ve been exhibiting a string of erratic behaviors recently. I’m kind of concerned about how well you are holding up to all the stresses in your life.”
“Have you found Hope, yet?” Charity asked, trying to gain some sort of control of the conversation.
“Are these activities that you believe are normal?” Tumalo continued. “Painting yourself green? Is that something normal people do?”
“It’s temporary,” Charity said.
“How about running around naked in public places?” Tumalo asked.
“I was drunk last night. I don’t know what got into me,” Charity responded.
The door opened and Metolius and Perit entered the room.
“Oh, hello,” Detective Tumalo said to the newcomers. “We were just talking about how Charity has a habit of running around naked in public places.”
“That was just…” Charity started, then she looked up at Metolius who was standing with her arms crossed, frowning. “Where is Hope, is she OK?”
“You seem to be wearing a very strange pair of underwear,” Tumalo said. “We couldn’t really figure out how you take them off.”
Charity stared at the table.
“Can you take them off?” Tumalo asked.
Charity mumbled, “I don’t have the key.”
“You don’t have the key?” Tumalo laughed. “Well, that’s quite a predicament. Who has the key?”
“Blue has the key,” Charity whispered.
“Blue? Blue, who has been ‘missing’,” Tumalo used air quotes, “‘missing’ for over four months?”
“Abducted!” Charity said, inadvertently rattling the chains of her bonds. “If you would quit spending your time investigating me, maybe you would be closer to finding her. Obviously, it’s in my best interest to help you in every way that I can. And every time I try, I feel like you simply turn your focus on me.”
“I have no doubt that you are a victim, Ms. McKenzie,” Tumalo said. “My concern is that the stress is causing you to make some very poor decisions. Unhealthy decisions. Decisions that endanger others. For example, I have a question for you to answer… Where is the decorated woman? Where is ‘Hope’, as you call her?”
“I don’t know,” Charity said, tears beginning to fall suddenly from her eyes.
“Well, it’s kind of convenient that you’ve misplaced her as soon as we expressed interest in communicating with her!”
Charity looked up at Perit briefly. She was frowning too.
“It seems,” Tumalo continued, “that you told Perit that ‘Hope’ was incapable of surviving alone in the city, but it looks like she is doing a damn good job of disappearing into it. I certainly wouldn’t think that she is easily camouflaged!”
“I’m… I’m really worried about her…” Charity whispered. She occasionally forgot her hands were bound to her waist and tried to unsuccessfully wipe her eyes.
“There are no charges pressed against you,” Tumalo said, finally. “So I can’t keep you here. But the three of us have talked and we are concerned about your mental health. We have decided that we are going to send you up to the asylum for a mandated 72 hour observation period.”
“What?!” Charity said, looking up at Perit. “That’s not necessary!”
“Said the green woman who consensually locked her own sex away,” Tumalo mumbled.
“Charity,” Perit said in a calming tone. “It’s going to be ok. This is the best thing for you.”
“What if Hope decides to return to my house? I need to be there!”
“We have people staking out your house,” Tumalo said. She turned to Perit. “A prison transport is ready to send Ms. McKenzie up.”
“Do you have any required medication that you are taking?” Perit asked.
“Yes, it’s on the top shelf of my refrigerator,” Charity said as her anxiety began to rise.
“We can provide whatever you need from the pharmacy at the asylum,” Perit said. “What’s the medication called?”
“Faith can bring it to me,” Charity said.
“Outside medicine isn’t allowed,” Perit explained. “What is the medication that you are taking?”
“I… I don’t know what it is,” Charity said.
“Are you self medicating?” Perit asked.
“No. I… I just don’t know what it’s called…”
“Aren’t you licensed as a psychiatrist to prescribe medicine?” Tumalo asked.
If the medicine prevented Charity from becoming some sort of animal, she couldn’t imagine what would happen if she stopped taking it for 72 hours.
“Faith will bring it to the asylum and you can figure out what it is,” Charity said to Perit.
“OK,” Perit said. “But regardless, I cannot administer non-FDA approved medications at the asylum.”
“What? No! I have to have the med… the med… the drugs!” Charity screamed. She was becoming frantic.
Tumalo pressed the button on her police radio. “Send two escorts to room 5 to assist prisoner transport.”
“What? Perit, please,” Charity said. “This is important.”
“Shhh… Calm down, Charity. Everything will be alright.”
“The Fed’s arrive early next week. I’ll have them come up to the asylum. Maybe they’ll know how to break open that chastity belt,” Tumalo commented.
“Next week?! That’s more than 72 hours! Perit!” Charity screamed, struggling against the chains holding her to the table.
Two officers arrived in the interrogation room and escorted Charity in prisoner chains to the transport bus where she was secured within a small, single seat cage. The bus ride was only fifteen minutes, so in the end they spent more time locking and unlocking her restraints than anything. Charity believed Tumalo was just trying to scare her. It was working.
Charity was taken to a processing room where all her restraints were removed. She was stripped of her prison uniform as well. Luckily Perit monitored Charity as she showered so she wouldn’t have to explain the reason why a strip search was unnecessary.
Finally, an ugly red jumpsuit was issued to Charity and she was escorted by Perit and two orderlies to a private room where she ate some bad institutional food and was forced to take some anxiety medicine.
Perit tried to explain that the 72 hour observation wouldn’t begin until the next day, which upset Charity once again. She felt a fog descend on her brain as the medication took effect. So, she was unable to express her concerns. Soon the door to her room was shut. There was a small barred window in the door and another high up on the opposite wall that allowed daylight to enter.
Charity lay on the bed and quickly fell asleep.
Someone was shaking her, when she woke up. No light was shining through the exterior window. It must have been dark outside.
“Charity, wake up, baby.”
“Faith?” Charity asked.
“Come on. We need to get out while we can,” Faith said.
“How…?” Charity started to ask.
“I remembered that you have a set of badges and asylum keys in your office,” Faith said. “Let’s go.”
To Charity, everything seemed very surreal. Faith led them through quiet low-lit halls of the asylum and they slipped out the front door unchallenged. “My car is just down the street,” Faith whispered.
“Slow down!” Charity whispered. “I’m barefoot!”
Charity was feeling a little more clear-headed by the time they were in Faith’s car. “What the hell are we going to do?”
“I think I know where Blue is being held,” Faith said. “And maybe Hope too. We need to drive about an hour out of town into the mine country.”
“OK,” Charity said. “Can we stop by my house? I need shoes and some mmm… m… drugs.”
“Sorry, babe. There’s cops all over the place watching your house.”
“I’m definitely going to jail for this,” Charity whispered.
“If we save Blue and Hope, it’ll be worth it. If not, we’ll both be going to jail.”
As Faith drove into the night, she began to explain what she had found out.
“Last week I staked out Fedea Whychus’s house - you remember - my ex-coworker slash hacker suspect friend?”
“Yeah, yeah, the woman with the frizzy hair.”
“Yeah, I watched her place. She was there. The car was there. But nothing strange seemed to be going on. I even spied through her windows. She was playing a video game for hours. I was racking my brain about some of the clues that we have been given. Whoever has Blue wants us to find her obviously. Stalking Fedea was getting me nowhere. I tried to crack that coded message about the sutured mouth. I tried to crack the cipher.”
“Ciph…?” Charity asked, confused.
“Yeah. No luck,” Faith continued. “But then I remembered how your underwear drawer had been… uh… vandalized. All your panties had been torn apart and a word had been cut out of the gusset.”
“Gus…gusset?” Charity asked.
“Yeah. You know. The bottom of the underwear,” Faith said. “Words like ‘blue’ and ‘mine’ made us think that the kidnapper was bragging about abducting Blue. Actually though it was a collection of words that had to be unscrambled. And I did. I unscrambled them: ‘Four Sisters Mine. Mine Shaft Blue Two’. I figured that out yesterday evening at your house! I was waiting for you to come home, but you never did. Anyway, I also discovered that your neighbor has a Clang doorbell - you know, the doorbell with a camera. Your neighbor let me look at the footage during the time period you were stuck on your rack. Well… a car showed up in front of your house. Fedea’s car! She went in your house with a suitcase and then came back out with the exact same suitcase twenty minutes later. But, it was obviously much heavier.”
“Hope!?” Charity said.
“Seems like that is her default mode of transport. Anyway, I emailed the footage to Tumalo, but they are too slow. She probably won’t even get the video until tomorrow. We need to go get Blue and Hope now!”
“Oh, hell yeah!” Charity said.
They were outside the city limits heading up the dark twisty roads into the mountains. “Faith,” Charity said. “I love you. You're the best sister ever.”
“I love you too, babe. I’ve got the coordinates of the Four Sisters Mine - Mine Shaft Blue Two in Goze right now. We’ll be there in a half hour.”
“Look!” Charity whispered. “There’s Fedea’s car.” They had parked Faith’s car around the bend and walked along the logging road.
“Yeah. I see it,” Faith acknowledged.
“Ooo!” Charity cursed. “I think I just stepped on a banana slug. Gross. I wish I had shoes.”
“Shut up, babe,” Faith responded. “I can’t see any activity through that window. Let’s sneak up to the door.”
They crept through the moonlit night to a small shack that must have once housed workers when the mine was operative. There was a dim light emanating from the window. Faith stuck her head up to look into the window and quickly ducked back down.
“What?” Charity mouthed.
Faith held up one finger indicating Charity to wait a second, then slowly raised her head again. This time she looked around for a bit before crouching back down. She pointed to Charity and indicated that she should look through the window.
Charity raised her head. The interior was old and rundown. There were rusty looking tools lying around and wooden furniture. Toward the back of the room was a large cage with heavy iron bars. It was about three feet tall, maybe eight feet long. There was movement in the cage! Charity ducked, then cautiously looked again. There was a naked woman in the cage.
She ducked down again and turned to Faith. “That’s Fedea!” she whispered. “What the fuck?”
“I know,” Faith whispered.
“What are we going to do?”
Faith crawled over to the door and gently tried the doorknob. “It’s open!”
“Don’t just go in there,” Charity whispered. “Someone else might be there.”
Faith reached down to her hip and pulled out a revolver.
“Faith! Where did you get that?!” Charity whispered.
Faith stood up with the gun out and slowly opened the door. She stepped into the shack.
Fedea saw Faith immediately and scrambled around in the cage to get as far away from Faith as she could, but she remained quiet. Charity looked around Faith through the open door. Fedea definitely seemed terrified. She also had something wedged in her mouth. A huge green ball gag. Charity could hear Fedea’s panicked breathing whistling through her nose.
“Come inside,” Faith whispered. “Let’s close the door.”
Charity took one last look behind her. She saw a flash of blue light. More than a flash! She slipped in and shut the door. “Cops!” she whispered.
“What?” Faith said. She stepped over the window. “Fuck! Fuck! OK. It only looks like one car. I’m going to go buy us time. You figure out where Hope and Blue are.”
It was too late. Faith slipped out of the door and into the darkness with her gun raised.
Charity turned to the cage. Fedea was still crouched toward the back. There was a huge padlock on the cage door. Charity yanked at it hopelessly. Charity also saw a padlock dangling on the side of Fedea’s head. Her gag was part of a head harness and it was obviously not coming off without a key.
“Where are Hope and Blue, Fedea?” Charity hoped that Fedea would be more helpful if Charity called her by name. Unfortunately, Fedea simply shook her head, “no”. Her eyes were huge. She was obviously terrified by something.
Charity looked around the shack a little more. There was a hall that led further into the building, but there were no lights and, seemingly, no doors either.
“Fedea! Please! I love Hope and Blue. I need to find them!”
Fedea kept shaking her head.
Outside, she heard raised voices screaming, arguing. One voice was that of Faith. She recognized that the other was Detective Tumalo.
There was a sudden buzzing sound, then machinery started whirring somewhere behind the shack. Fedea looked fearfully towards the hall, then back at Charity. “Are they back there?”
Fedea was crouched in a ball shivering.
Outside Charity heard the sound of a gunshot, followed by two more.
She tried to look out the window to see what had happened. A light turned on behind her. Its source was somewhere down the hall. Charity turned. At the far end a door had opened. It was a mine shaft elevator.
“Fuck!” She looked at Fedea who started trying to say something into her gag, enthusiastically shaking her head. She looked at the open elevator. There was a buzzing sound. The same as she had heard before. The door to the elevator started to slide closed.
“Fuck!” Charity ran down the hall and slipped through the door at the last second. A metal clanging sound echoed from below. There was a rattle of chains. Then the elevator began to descend into the darkness of the interior of the mountain.
The elevator began to descend into the mountain. The wooden frame that housed the elevator car at the entry point in the shack soon gave away to bedrock. The lights from above soon grew dim as Charity descended into the darkness.
“What the hell am I doing?” she thought to herself. She had no idea where she was going. She didn’t have a weapon to defend herself. She didn’t even have a flashlight. Or shoes.
And what had happened to Faith? Charity had heard gunshots. Was Faith lying in a pool of blood somewhere above. Regardless, even if this was a fool’s errand, Charity felt that the need to know Blue’s fate or Hope’s fate was more overpowering than concern for her own physical safety.
Charity descended for quite some time. She couldn’t see anything but she knew she was going down by the gentle rocking and the rattle of chains. She thought she was starting to see some dim lights below.
The elevator braked and settled onto the bottom of the shaft with a bang. The door opened. A corridor had been carved into the stone with runner lights near the floor heading off to the left. Charity cautiously stepped out of the elevator. The ground was cold, wet, and muddy on her bare feet. She started to follow the corridor.
There was a buzzing sound and the elevator door closed behind her, the car slowly rising back up towards the surface. Who was it going to pick up from above? Charity decided she had better move along quickly.
She made her way along the corridor counting her steps. When she was at about 400 steps, Charity could see a glow in the distance. It was almost 1100 more steps before she found the source. She stepped into a large cavern.
The first thing to capture her attention was a large rectangular glowing… She wasn’t sure what it was. Her first thought was that it was perhaps the gates to hell. The rectangle pulsed with a swirl of color whose palette seemed to imply burning flames. She imagined it looked like the surface of the sun - ever changing - a plasma of energy. However, it was not so bright as to hurt her eyes. Nor was there an excess of heat radiating from it. ‘Portal’ was the word that popped into her mind. A doorway to somewhere… somewhere not here.
The next thing she noticed was a large metal frame about eight feet tall next to the portal. It was shaped like an upside-down Y. A lambda. It looked very much like the symbol on the faceplate of her chastity belt. It looked very much like the symbol that Hope had tattooed on her crotch.
There was a human body fixed within the framework of the lambda! A woman! Her arms were pulled up vertically. Her hands fixed in black ovoid mitts. Her head was completely obscured by a spherical, black orb. She seemed to be wearing a sports bra type garment, but it reflected light like a dull, black metal surface would. She was wearing a metal bottom as well with tubes and cables mounted and leading to other ports. Her legs were separated and held open by the legs of the lambda. Metal cuffs at thigh, calf, and ankle, held her captive within the frame.
As Charity watched, she noticed that the foot of the bound woman flexed, her toes balling for a moment, then relaxing. The woman in the framework was alive! “Blue?”
Charity turned to the source of the voice. What she saw just did not make sense. Her brain could not process what her eyes were reporting. Charity’s knees went weak and she collapsed to the floor like an unmanned string puppet.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I often have that effect on people.”
The voice was pleasant… smooth… soothing. What was shocking was the being from which the voice emerged. She was a tall, athletically defined, perfectly proportioned naked woman. She was also a vibrant shade of green - not far off the shade that Charity had staining her own chest, but there was a glow to the woman’s skin that suggested it was her natural color. She also had large horns growing from her head - first curving out and then up to sharp points - maybe like an impala’s. Her hair descended to her waist in a plethora of long, thin, green braids.
“Here, let me help you up,” the woman held out her hand which dwarfed Charity’s. Her fingers ended in sharp claws. Charity felt she had no option but to accept the woman’s assistance and she lay her own hand within the woman’s.
When Charity stood, she realized the woman must be more than two feet taller.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. I’m just sorry that we will have so little time together. I must say though that I am astonished at your mental resilience after all this time wearing the zoic amplifier,” the woman said. The skin of her hand was warm and comforting.
“Huh?” Charity asked.
“The chastity belt.”
“I’m afraid that it’s something that you’ll have to live with. I’ve got Blue all packaged up now,” the woman pointed at the lambda shaped framework. “I need to fix her in the array. But, you know, it seems like you and my little pet have bonded quite well, so, it’s a good trade for both of us, I think.”
The woman pointed up to the top of the cavern.
Charity looked up. Hope was suspended about thirty feet overhead. Chains descended from above to her wrists and ankle cuffs as well as to the metal eyelets drilled into her shoulder blades and at her hips. Her gag had apparently been engaged as she made no more than a barely audible mewling noise. Her eyes were wide with fear.
“Hope?” Charity said.
“I think that Blue gave you some good advice. You and Hope, as you call her, should stick together, but you need to find a mistress who will appreciate you, like, really quickly. You’ll be much happier that way. Let’s see… hmm… Stay away from Zenovia in Solyanka. She’s really sadistic. Ah! Senora Carmen down in Puerto Montt has built a nice cage. It’s big enough for two ferals like you and pet.”
“Puerto Montt?” Charity asked, still looking up at Hope.
“Yeah. Puerto Montt, Chile. I’ll have her come up and collect you and the pet as quickly as possible. I just don’t know how much longer you have until you lose the concept of communication devices. Ha! You’ve surprised me this far… Who knows? Anyway, by all means, stay away from those people who call themselves ‘The Feds’. They seem to have a preference to dissect things.”
The woman gently lay a hand on Charity’s head. “Well. I’ve got to go, sweetheart. Blue is waiting. Maybe we’ll see each other again. Another time, another place. Love you! Oh! By the way, my name is Dammasch! I’m a Goddess!”
The woman moved across the room to the large lambda frame which held Blue. She turned back and blew Charity a kiss. Then she pushed the frame through the portal, following close behind. There was a flash of light and they were gone.
“Blue!” Charity screamed suddenly snapping out of her daze. She started running towards the portal. “Blue!”
There was a buzz and the sound of machinery firing up in the distance - a rattle of chains. Charity stopped running and turned around.
“Hope!” Charity screamed. The chains holding Hope started to descend from above. Charity looked at the portal. Maybe she could jump though, save Blue, and jump back from the other side and help release Hope from her chains when she landed on the floor of the cavern. Charity looked back at Hope slowly descending. She looked down and realized that there was no floor below Hope. There was just a hole descending into darkness.
“Mmmm!” Hope screamed.
Charity looked at the portal once again. Then she turned back. “Hope! I’m going to catch you! Somehow.”
Charity looked around. There was a pole with a hook on one end. Charity grabbed the pole and, just as Hope was about to descend into the hole Charity snagged one of the chains hooked through a shoulder eyelet. Charity pulled on the chain and Hope’s body swung away from the hole until she touched down on the muddy floor. “Mmm!”
Charity dropped the pole and helped Hope sit up. She kissed the top of Hope’s head and hugged her - ever mindful of avoiding Hope’s needle-like spikes. “Hope!”
Hope’s body was shaking and tears were falling from her eyes. She made quiet mewling sounds. Charity started unhooking the chains from Hope’s body. Maybe Hope knew what was on the other side of the portal. Maybe Hope knew how to help save Blue.
Just as Charity was helping Hope to stand up, They heard footsteps from down the hall. Someone was running towards them. Charity held her breath.
Faith emerged from the darkness. She had the revolver in her hand. “Charity!”
“Faith! What happened out there? I heard gunshots!”
“Yeah, I shot Tumalo,” Faith said.
“What!?” Charity said, shocked.
“I just grazed her leg. I stalled her for a bit. But I think she’s kind of pissed off now,” Faith explained.
“Do you think?” Charity said.
Charity tried to explain what had happened. She tried to describe the tall woman and about Blue and the portal. Faith just frowned, looking at the portal skeptically.
In the distance there was a buzzing sound.
“That is going to be the cops,” Faith said looking around the cavern. “We can’t go back up the elevator. We’ll have to find our way out through another passage.”
“We don’t even have a flashlight. And what about Blue,” Charity said, pointing at the portal.
Hope shook her head vigorously, and pointed back toward the elevator. “Mmmm!”
“Tumalo is that way,” Charity said. “Bitch!”
Hope frowned, then pointed at the portal and vigorously shook her head again.
“I don’t know if we have a choice,” Faith said. “The cops are coming this way. I don’t think they’ll be in a question-asking mood if they see me.” She nodded at the portal. “What do we have to lose?”
Charity grabbed Hope’s hand. “Come on, Hope. We can do this.” She stood up and walked towards the portal. She stopped and turned to Hope. “I love you! Hope! I love you! Mi-ah(tock)oo-nah!”
Hope smiled and raised their joined hands up in the air. She nodded then turned towards the portal.
Faith walked up as well and grabbed Charity’s other hand.
“3… 2… 1…” They stepped into the glowing plasma of the portal and disappeared in a flash of light.
Ten seconds later the glowing plasma of the portal began to grow dimmer, eventually fading altogether. Only a large, featureless black monolith remained.
Journal Entry 8:
Subject: Ash Adams - p-FEAR Installation
The Lambda Frame
Every choice spawns another universe. They are infinite and uncountable. Most slip into obscurity, slowly reclaimed by the ether. Some re-merge, no more than a minor glitch only noted by few or none. Many linger on. To suggest that one is a failure or not matters only to one’s point-of-view. To those of that particular point-of-view, a failed universe is no longer relevant. Its inhabitants are inconsequential.
To lift a suitable subject from a failed universe to one that is successful is the greatest of gifts even if the use of that subject is completely utilitarian. Thus, we celebrate the blessings of the Goddess who lifts an individual from uselessness to a heralded life in the arousal amplification array.
Our current subject, Ash Adams, is ready to be permanently installed in her lambda frame. A slot is prepared in the vertical arm for the seating of the subject’s orb. A heated solder is applied to wed the two metals together. Next her arms are raised and aligned within the confines of the vertical armature. A hook is available to slip through the center of the subject’s hands, left over right. A clip snaps down to transform the hook to a circle and solder makes it a solid ring.
The subject’s legs are comfortably spread and pressed into the left and right legs of the lambda. Padded metal staples are secured around the thigh, calf, and ankle. Only the subject’s feet and metal capped toes are left to express the subject’s thoughts and emotions. Flexing and curling through the throes of ecstasy forevermore.
The Goddess, herself, Dea Dammasch escorts her new acolyte and containing framework from the failed universe to her own. She is installed in the array with her sisters from anywhere and anywhen. Thus, the greatest universe is propelled strongly forwards in plentiful abundance for all its inhabitants.
Go forth, Acolyte Ash! Languish in the nebula of eternal arousal!
Dea Dammasch, aeternum amorem et obsequium meum spondeo.
Federal Agent Chen closed the Journal of Ash Adams. She smirked as she dropped it on the desk in the temporary office set up for her in the asylum. “What a load of horseshit!” she said to the other two agents in the room, Agent Patel and Agent Smith. “Let’s bring the local bozos in. I’m ready to meet them now.”
Smith stepped out of the office.
“I actually stayed in this city once six or seven years ago,” Chen said. “I met the mayor. She was a complete idiot. I liked the wine though. Ah!”
Smith returned with two other women, one of whom was limping. “This is Dr. Perit Huntington. She is the Chief Psychiatrist here at the asylum.”
“Hello,” Perit said.
“So, you chose to investigate this decorated woman’s past without calling us?” Chen asked.
“Uh… Yes, ma’am. I felt that Dr. Charity McKenzie was uniquely qualified to develop a good rapport with the woman. She-”
“The same Dr. McKenzie,” Agent Chen interrupted, “that is currently on the lam with this decorated woman and her sister?”
“Her step-sister, Faith McKenzie, yes.”
“Fantastic!” Agent Chen said with a sidewards look at Agent Patel. “And you must be Detective Tumalo?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tumalo said.
“And you chose to not call us about what’s going on here for over four months?” Agent Chen asked.
“Well… I didn’t realize that we were getting close to your jurisdiction,” Tumalo said.
“OK. I’d like to see the patients, Dr. Huntington. You can tell me about the mine as we walk, Tumalo.” Agent Chen stood up and followed the others into the halls of the asylum.
“…And this is the hall where we normally keep patients who are considered dangerous to themselves or others,” Perit explained as they walked down a corridor lined with heavy locked doors. Each door had a small barred window.
“This room contains Tam Fir. She was the woman who awoke one morning with rings piercing her upper and lower lips and a chain holding her mouth closed. We were able to remove the chain, but she still has the rings in her lips. We… uh… don’t really have any justification for holding her.”
“We’ll take care of that,” Agent Chen said.
“Next, we have Fedea Whychus,” Perit said as the agents looked into the window. “She was found naked in a cage in the elevator shack at the Four Sisters Mine. She seems to have endured severe emotional trauma of some sort. We have not yet gotten her to say a single word.
“Finally, we have the woman that was found bound to a chair in a small room deep in the mine. She said she had been there for years. She apparently has had no human contact the entire time. She seems to be recovering though.”
Chen lingered at the window. “She’s bald. Why is that? Does she shave her head every day?”
“She does not shave her head. Nor do we. Her hair just does not seem to be growing back,” Perit explained.
“I just wanted to make sure you don’t let her near a razor,” Agent Chen said. “What was her name?”
“Blue. Blue Barclay,” Perit said.
“Ok,” Agent Chen said. “You need to move this one to a padded cell. She must be locked in a head harness with a safety gag, a full body straitjacket - arms and legs - and segufix straps binding her to the floor. Do this immediately.”
“Um… Isn’t that a little excessive?” Perit asked.
Chen held up the Journal of Ash Adams. “Do you know who wrote this journal? Each entry was marked ‘QM: Rainbow’. QM stands for Quarter Master - the person in charge of logging events. And Dr., what are the colors of the rainbow?”
“Uh… red, green, gold… all colors? I don’t know.”
“Red, orange, yellow, green, indigo, violet… And Blue!”
“Um… Blue was Charity’s girlfriend. She was abducted four and half months ago,” Perit said. “I don’t think…”
“Are we going to have communication problems, Dr?” Chen said menacingly.
“No. No, ma’am.”
“Then make it so. This Dea Dammasch bitch’s henchmen always use names that are colors of the rainbow.” Agent Chen said. “Now, Tumalo, your police never found any bodies in the mine, correct?”
“Yes, ma’am. We haven’t found any sign of the McKenzie sisters or the decorated woman. There are no footprints or other signs that they ever left that one particular cavern.”
“Mmm-hmm. And your report mentioned a strange, large, rectangular monolith down in the mine,” Chen said. “That is definitely something that I’d like to see as soon as possible…”