The Kingdom

by Southrook

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© Copyright 2021 - Southrook - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/f; M/f; fpov; anal; oral; denial; insert; bitgag; collar; edgeplay; strappado; captive; climax; discipline; electro; iso; pain; torture; nc; XXX

Continues from

CHAPTER 15 – NIGHTS AND DAYS (BRANDY’S STORY)

I exhaled deeply as the dub-step song blaring from the ceiling speakers of my cell repeated. The song had been edited so that it played seamlessly on loop, but after days of listening to the same song, I’d managed to pinpoint the exact moment when the original song ended. Approximately 4 minutes and 19 seconds in, there was a distinguishable pop and change in tempo. From there, I was able to count that the song had played 34 times since the guard had last left me. This meant that I’d been restrained in my current position for roughly 2 hours and 27 minutes. Combined with the roughly 6 hours of other various bondage positions prior to that, this brought the time to nearly 0 eight-hundred hours. Give or take a few minutes.

I had just experienced yet another long and sleepless night of bondage. While this was certainly not abnormal for me, what made the last night particularly taxing was the psychological whiplash of having experienced it on the heels of being recaptured after my recent escape. One day earlier, I had overpowered two of my guards and managed to escape the kennel. My objective was simple. I needed to apprehend and destroy the suitcase that had been placed in the care of the bitch who sold me to Annabelle. Jodie O’Connell.

Disguised in a guard’s uniform, I fled the kennel and went straight to the castle suite. When my knocks on the front door went unanswered, I picked the lock and forced my way inside. Despite turning the place upside down, the suitcase was nowhere to be found. When Jodie returned to the suite, that’s where things got a bit fuzzy. I recall confronting her and pinning her against the wall. But then... blank. I couldn’t recall anything else...

The next thing I remembered was waking up here in this place. Bound, gagged, naked... Prior to my escape, I had been kept awake for over 54 hours. As infuriating as it was to have been knocked out and recaptured, at least I’d managed to steal a few precious hours of sleep before starting my 24 hours of insomnia.

This had been my first night in this particular cell. Though it was similar in size to my previous one, its different esthetic made me question if I was still in the kennel at all.

Above me hung a large steel grid that housed the impressive speaker system as well as half a dozen LED lamps. The set-up almost resembled what you would see above a stage at a concert. In addition to the dub-step music blaring from the overhead speakers, the LED lamps ensured that my retinas remain engaged at all times. Not only were the lights insanely bright, but they had a “strobing” feature which had remained activated throughout the entire night. Even with my eyes clenched shut, it was physically impossible to ignore the incessant flashing.

I had been left nude with my upper body strapped horizontally to a padded leather bench. The bench narrowed at my sternum so that my breasts hung freely on either side. Both of my nipples had been clamped with tassel-like metallic coins that sent powerful electric shocks whenever the gyro-meter in my collar detected movement.

Leather ankle cuffs secured my feet to the floor and kept my legs spread widely apart. Given the height of the bench, even if I stood on my toes, my knees were prevented from bending hardly at all. My most unfortunate restraints were the leather cuffs that secured my wrists together behind my back. Having my arms locked behind my back for hours on end would have been uncomfortable enough. But a chain suspending from the ceiling kept my wrists lifted into a high strappado. As you might expect, this placed considerable strain on my shoulders and neck.

But to make matters immeasurably worse, I’d been equipped with a torture belt. To the untrained eye, it looked like any ordinary chastity belt. But beneath the black latex and metal plates, there was a highly sophisticated torture apparatus hard at work. Locked inside my pussy was a dildo that not only vibrated and shocked me at random, but inflated and deflated to various sizes. And to my endless frustration, I could not for the life of me deduce a sequence or rhythm to these torments. The stimulations were delivered entirely at random. Whatever algorithms had been used to program the timing, they were virtually indistinguishable to the wearer and made it impossible to anticipate what was coming next. But as far as the vibrations were concerned, they never lasted longer than 10 seconds at a time. This ensured that I could never successfully reach orgasm...

After roughly 2 and a half hours of edging, I was unashamed to admit that I desperately wanted to climax. Even tortured and sleep-deprived POW’s had their sexual needs... Nonetheless, with my restraints, I was utterly and hopelessly powerless to grant myself what would have otherwise been a simple wish...

But orgasm denial was only a part of my current woes. Also trapped beneath my torture belt was a butt-plug and enema tube that occupied my anus... As you might have guessed, there were no bathroom breaks here. Instead, I was administered regular enemas. And I should probably clarify that regular was the understatement of the century. At times, it honestly felt like there was a constant stream of fluids flowing in and out of me. But thanks to the contraption I was wearing, nobody would have ever been the wiser. I was even able to urinate without detection. Black waste tubes protruding from bottom of my torture belt descended straight into the floor between my legs.

My last accessory was... well, my own fault. As the security guard who restrained me turned to leave my cell, I called him a “mother-fucker”. A fair and accurate assertion, but admittedly not the wisest choice of outbursts. No sooner did the insult leave my lips, the guard turned back to me, withdrew a spider-gag from his cargo pocket, and hastily wedged it into my mouth. And to add insult to injury, the bastard decided to test out its durability by pulling down his pants and inserting his sweaty cock between my pried open teeth...

Like I said- this was brought about by my own lack of discipline, but oh well... Live and learn... It was hardly the first time a cock had been shoved down my throat without permission. But between the vibrations, electrical shocks, and endless enemas, this was definitely on the list of the most infuriating services I’d been forced to give. Needless to say, my nipples have been sore ever since from all the bouncing and bobbing detected by my collar...

While my months of training for this operation had prepared me for the physical rigors of prolonged captivity and torture, the emotional element was something that I hadn’t fully anticipated. This actually kind of surprised me. As part of my training, I’d been required to read countless debriefs and watch hours of video logs from former prisoners of war. After hearing their stories, processing their experiences, and seeing their scars, I genuinely thought I was mentally ready for the worst. But after nearly 24 hours of being tortured in strict bondage with no sleep, I was beginning to realize that I may have been mistaken...

Up until a week ago, my tormentors were members of the United States military. They were tasked with building my tolerance and endurance to tortures of all kinds. While it was certainly no cake-walk for me, I’d always likened it to leg-day at the gym. Fucking awful in the moment, but worth it once it was all over. But here in this place- I was behind enemy lines. There was no light at the end of the tunnel and nor was there any foreseeable benefit to my plight. It was leg-day every hour of every goddamned day and night. Only worse...

Hearing the dub-step song reach the end and repeat, I closed my eyes and let out a long sigh. That brought the play-count to 35, totaling roughly 2 hours and 31 minutes. Keeping my eyes closed, I rolled my eyes back into my head, giving myself mild relief from the incessant LED strobing. I honestly could not ever remember feeling more exhausted. Whoever designed this regimen was a true sadist and their objective was clear. It wasn’t just to deprive me of sleep or break my spirit. It was to shatter my mind. To reduce me to the lowest possible mental state that a person could be. My experiences as an interrogator had only ever placed me on the other end of this scenario. And while my methods were nowhere nearly as intense as this had been, they were highly effective, all the same.

All of the sudden, the strobing ceased, prompting me to open my eyes. To my relief, the music also stopped along with all of the stimulants that had been abusing my body. I blinked as the overhead lights remained bright. I’d become so used to the strobing that the flickering almost appeared to continue.

“Rise and shine, ladies,” said a low sultry voice over the intercom. I clenched my fists in loathing as I recognized the voice to be that of Annabelle’s. Words could not begin to describe the hatred I had for this woman. I’d come across more than a few reprobates during my time in the service. After 11 tours in 4 different wars, I had never encountered any enemy more evil and sadistic than Annabelle. Satan himself would be envious of her depravity.

“I trust that the five of you slept well,” She added, pausing to ensure that her sarcasm was clear. I had noticed over the past several days that Annabelle was quite keen on stressing the five of us. It was her own special way of declaring decisive victory over our little band of resistance. Ironically, the joke was on her. Because, based on her continued emphasis on five, she clearly wasn’t aware of our sixth. Or first of six, to be more specific. Her omission indicated that Alpha was still out there. And as long as he was, hope remained alive. Not just for us, but for the thousands of women who were depending on us to succeed in our mission...

“It’s 8:00,” Annabelle continued, ”-which means that guards will be visiting each of you momentarily to deliver your breakfast. Except for you, Ms. Michaels.” My ears perked up at the mention of my alias. “I understand that you gulped down some protein a few hours ago. Yummy.” I scowled down at the floor, feeling my face flush with rage. “That ought to hold you over until at least lunchtime.”

Had my nails been slightly longer, I’d have undoubtedly drawn blood from my palms where they were digging into.

“We’ve got another busy day planned for each of you,” Annabelle continued. “One filled with all sorts of fun little chores.” I rolled my eyes at her obvious fetish for the dramatic. Each time she spoke, she sounded as if she were giving her best impression of a sadistic Bond villain. Almost as if she was reading from a script that she’d written for herself the night prior.

“But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. First order of business- a hearty breakfast,” she chirped giddily. “But once again- none for you, Brandy... Because you already ate,” she added matter-of-factly. “Gulped, rather... Glugged, one could say...”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to calm myself. The bitch was almost certainly watching me through the overhead camera and the last thing I wanted was to give her the satisfaction of extracting a reaction from me. Nothing would make the bitch happier than to see me throw a temper tantrum.

“Once the rest of you have finished eating, then we can start the day,” she added. “So, eat up! You’ll definitely be needing your energy for this one. See you all soon!” And with that, my pussy, nipples, and neck all received a simultaneous jolt of electricity that lasted several seconds. I shrieked wildly through my spider-gag as I writhed in agony. FUUUUCK!

A harsh zap of electricity was customary at the end of Annabelle’s intercom addresses. After hours of randomized torments delivered at unpredictable intervals by a program, there was almost something preferable about being assaulted by an actual person. It was certainly easier to hate a person for vindictively zapping my pussy than it was to resent a computer that did it randomly.

“Oh, and Ms. Michaels,” Annabelle added, her voice crackling over the intercom, “You can continue as you were.”

Suddenly, all of my stimulants roared back to life. The dildo, the electricity, and even the LED strobing and dub-step music. My prior poise in the face of Annabelle’s antagonizations was now gone. Exhausted and weary though I was, I threw the biggest and most dramatic tantrum I could muster. Drool flung in every which direction as I twisted and writhed in my restraints.

But my hissy fit wasn’t solely reactionary. I also knew that this would be my best and only chance at reaching that ever-evasive orgasm... The break during which Annabelle gave her little speech, my body had been given an opportunity to relax and reset. At this moment, my body was more sensitive than it had been for hours. This gave me a very small window to try to reach the climax that I so desperately longed for. Between the nipple and pussy stimulation as well as my own physical exertions, my heart began to race and I could feel my skin growing slick with sweat. I clenched my eyes shut in meditation and bucked my hips as ferociously as my restraints would and allow. I held my breath and curled my toes in willful anticipation for my climax...

But roughly 10 seconds after they began, the dildo’s vibrations reached the end of their timed interval. Digging my fingernails into my palms, I held my breath and continued frantically humping the air, desperately clinging onto the orgasmic fog that had been building. For another half minute, I stubbornly bucked and bounced on the padded bench, foolishly clinging to the false hope of orgasm. Eventually, the feeling of ecstasy all but disappeared, leaving me only with bitterness and resentment. I arched my back as much as my bonds would allow and howled out in sexual frustration. Once my lungs were emptied, I collapsed my full weight onto the bench beneath me.

In a fitting finale to my failure, I felt a whoosh of fluid flow into my anus. Still panting heavily, I tried to swallow in order to tame the knot I felt forming in the back of my throat. Normally, during an enema, I’d have stood on my tip-toes in order to alleviate the pressure on my swelling lower abdomen. But with my calf muscles now trembling from fatigue, I merely laid there. Limp, lifeless, and defeated.

Right on cue, the dub-step music suddenly cut out and Annabelle’s goading voice rang once more over the intercom. “Aww, you were so close, Brandy!” she chided gleefully. I exhaled slowly, feeling my face flush red. “My poor poor prisoner, you nearly had it that time!” she laughed patronizingly. Unlike Annabelle’s prior address, my stimulants were left on this time, keeping my mind distracted and addled as she chastised me.

But despite the distractions, my self-pity from moments earlier had been instantly replaced with a sense of new-found loathing and rebellion. Fists now clenched, I seethed, glaring down angrily at the drool-spattered floor.

“I’ll tell you what,” she added. “When we meet for our one-on-one time a bit later, I’ll make sure you’ll have another opportunity to chase that elusive orgasm again. Sound fair?”

Feeling energized by my hatred, I answered her merely by extending both of my middle fingers outward.

“Excellent,” Annabelle chuckled. “I’ll see you soon, Ms. Michaels. Muah!”

After her voice cut out over the speaker, I was pelted with another electric assault to my pussy, nipples, and collar. Dammit! The bitch really knew how to get under my skin! As much as my spirited defiance undoubtedly fueled her, my burning sense of hatred was also the only thing fueling me.

It goes without saying that there was plenty to hate about Annabelle. If she were to suddenly drop dead, my life would have undoubtedly benefited from it. In fact, fantasizing about snapping her neck or cracking open her skull had become a favorite pass-time of mine over the last week. While I was still a bit unsure of her official role at the Kingdom, she appeared to be in charge here at the kennel. While she had never surfaced as a person of interest during my research for this operation, I found myself growing increasingly curious as to why. From what it looked like, nothing seemed to happen in this place without her say so. With each and every interaction, she was looking more and more like the man behind the curtain...

My torture belt continued to vibrate and shock me for another 15 minutes before everything finally went still. My enema’s ceased, the blaring music stopped and the strobing lights overhead dimmed. Typically this meant that a guard was about to enter or an announcement was about to sound over the intercom. But to my pleasant surprise, nothing happened. For the first time in hours, I had peace and quiet. I seized my opportunity to close my eyes and will myself to sleep. It took mere seconds for me to drift off.

When you’re as sleep deprived as I was it’s hard to accurately gauge the length of a power nap. But if I had to guess, I would say that I got in a solid minute and a half before the steel door to my cell slid open. Blinking, I saw two security guards enter wearing hooded ponchos, safety goggles, and rubber gloves. Their outfits meant one thing: it was shower time...

Silently, both walked over to me and began to prepare me for my cleaning. The guard to my left raised a clipboard-style touchpad and began to tap on the screen. Moments later, he removed my nipple coins and I felt the chain holding wrists up begin to mechanically descend from the ceiling. Being kept in a strappado for so long was especially challenging given my body type. Flexibility is a body-builder’s worst enemy. I exhaled slowly as my wrists slowly lowered and came to rest on the small of my back.

While this was happening, the other guard busied himself removing my torture belt. I held my breath as the dildo slid out of my pussy and the enema tube was pulled from my anus. Only once the bulbed end of the tube made its way past my sphincter did I resume breathing. The cool air felt welcome against my swampy sex. I must have looked like a greasy prune with all the moisture that had been trapped inside the torture belt for so long.

My moment of relief was cut short by what felt like a fire-hose pelting my exposed twat with ice-cold water. While this was expected, it didn’t stop my eyes from bulging wide or my subsequent scream. I curled my toes and winced as I felt the other guard begin to painfully scrub my sex with a squeegee. I craned my head back towards them and hollered, “Easy!” But with the ring-gag still in place, it came out more like, “Ehee!” The guards ignored my command and continued to wash me harshly and thoroughly, filling every nook and cranny with soapy suds. Once they were done with my private areas, they proceeded to hose down and scrub the rest of my body.

After a few minutes of this, the fire-hose-like sprayer finally turned off, prompting every muscle in my body to simultaneously un-tense. Once the cleaning utensils were re-hung on the wall behind me, the guards returned with more supplies to complete my daily hygiene routine. While one stooped down in front of me to brush my teeth, the other stood over my shoulder drying and brushing my hair. I avoided eye contact and tried to remain as expressionless as possible. The last thing I needed was another sweaty cock shoved down my throat for being insubordinate.

Once the guards finished brushing my teeth and hair, They stowed their tools behind me and made their way toward the cell door. As the guard on my right passed me, he paused and unexpectedly inserted two fingers into my gaping mouth. Recoiling in surprise, it only took me a split-second to realize his motivation for doing so. My nose scrunched as he wiped what tasted like a glob of liquid soap onto the back of my tongue.

“To help wash out the taste I might have left earlier,” the guard whispered into my ear before straightening up and joining his cohort at the door.

“Bastard!” I thought as I gagged in disgust. I hadn’t recognized him with the hood and safety goggles, but he was clearly the same ass-hole who had ring-gagged and face-fucked me hours prior. I attempted to expel the substance from my mouth by rolling my tongue, but with the ring-gag still in place, my efforts only forced it further back into my throat, ultimately prompting me to swallow. “BASTARD!” I fumed silently, feeling my face flush once more with rage. As if raping my mouth wasn’t bad enough!

Without looking back, the two poncho-clad guards silently exited the cell, leaving me in glorious silence. Once the door slid shut behind them, I exhaled a long sigh, soaking in the peace and quiet. Other than the sporadic sound of water droplets spattering from my hair to the floor or the faint tapping noises of the plumbing in the walls, this was the quietest that this cell had been in nearly a day. I rolled my shoulders, attempting to stretch out a bit now that my arms were no longer in their strappado position. Unfortunately, my skin now ached from the harsh scrubbing that I’d just been subjected to. Eager to resume my minute and a half nap from earlier, I closed my eyes and allowed my head to hang down in front of me. I had no idea how long I had, so I desperately willed myself to sleep.

But as I drifted off, the faint tapping noises that I’d previously associated with plumbing in the walls caught my attention. Against my instincts to ignore them and fall asleep, I couldn’t help myself from listening closer. The tapping was coming from the wall to my left and... unless I was losing my mind, it almost sounded as if there was a sequence to the taps... With my eyes closed, I focused as hard as I could on the faint sounds. After a few seconds, my eyes shot open in confirmation. It was a message. A message delivered in the form of tap code!

During the Vietnam war, four prisoners of war devised the technique as a way to communicate amongst themselves at the Hanoi Hilton. Over the course of their imprisonment, they managed to spread the cipher to all their comrades, helping them to communicate between walls and even different buildings.

The cipher that made this possible was essentially a polybius square that used a 5 by 5 grid. Given my photographic memory, I quickly recalled the cipher. Every letter of the alphabet with exception to the letter “K” was represented by a different box. The box in the top left-hand corner was marked with an “A” while the box in the bottom right-hand corner was marked with a “Z”. Messages were sculpted by spelling out one letter at a time with two numbers. The first was the number of rows down, and the second was the number of columns to the right. If I wanted to spell the letter C, for instance, I’d tap once, pause briefly, and then tap three times.

While the use of regular morse code would have been possible, morse code uses both dots and dashes to transmit messages. And since dashes weren’t able to be transmitted percussively, they would have needed to be swapped out with three shorter dots. Not only would that have been incredibly challenging to send, it would have been even harder to understand.

I closed my eyes again and listened intently. Breathing slowly through my nose, I decoded one letter after the next. The message read, “SVP CQ CFM”. Once completed, it repeated from the beginning. Despite using tap code, these abbreviations were common knowledge to anyone fluent in morse. The message translated to, “Si vous plait (please) anybody confirm”.

With my heart now pounding, sleep had suddenly become the last thing on my mind. I turned my head toward the wall on my left where the sound appeared to be coming from. Morse code was a dying breed these days, so it was safe to assume that whoever was sending these tap messages was either military or ex-military. In all likelihood, it was one of the other four agents who were transmitting them!

I immediately began testing my restraints, searching for a way to clank out a reply. Unfortunately, I would have needed a steel pipe or something hard to bang against something. And even then, I was in the center of the room. Sending a message through the concrete floor and wall would require quite a lot of force. I sighed, discouraged by my lack of options.

But just then, I remembered the chain descending from the ceiling overhead that had kept my wrists pulled high in a strappado. Against the comfort of my sore shoulders, I raised my wrists a few inches into the air and grabbed ahold of the chain. Tugging the chain downward certainly made a noise, but it was nowhere nearly loud or distinct enough to send a message in tap code to someone on the other side of a concrete wall.

Trying a different approach, I lowered my hands a few inches, lifted the chain into the air and then tugged sharply down. The result was a crisp loud clank that echoed through the cell. My heart leapt in victory as the tapping from the wall suddenly stopped. They’d heard me! I immediately sprang into action, crafting a message as quickly as the chain would allow me.

Slowly, I clanked out the letters “RCD” in tap code. This was morse for “transmission received”. Given the nature of my situation with the chain, this message took me longer to transmit than it normally would have.

My heart raced as I waited several seconds for a reply. Impatiently, I lifted my hands upward in preparation to resend my message. But just as I was about to tug the chain again, the faint tapping sound suddenly returned. I breathed as quietly as I could while I listened to the next incoming message. The message read, “QRZ”. This was morse for “identify yourself.”

I sprang into action, spelling out my code name, “FOXTROT” and following it with “QRZ”. If this was one of my fellow agents, she would inevitably reply with her code name. I couldn’t help getting my hopes up. Having a private line of communication with any one of the other four could be the start of a coordinated break-out!

Almost instantly, a reply started tapping back. “NIGHT TO DA”.

I paused, clueless of what to make of the response. Night to day? “DA” was morse for “day”. What the hell did that mean?

Just as I raised my hands to ask for clarification, my cell door slid open. I released the chain and rested my open palms on my ass. Dammit! I thought as I rolled my eyes. Talk about bad timing!

The cell door whooshed open to reveal two guards standing in the doorway. As they entered, it was the next sound I heard that made my blood run cold. The clicking of high heels could only mean one thing. A moment later, Annabelle entered the room, causing my fists to instinctively clench.

“Good morning, Ms. Michaels!” She exclaimed in a sing-song voice. She was wearing black leather pants and high-heeled boots, a decorative gold corset, and a red petty-coat with tails. The outfit kind of reminded me of a ring-leader at a circus. The only thing that was missing was the top-hat.

The guards briskly approached me and began to remove my restraints. While one guard unbuckled the leather belts that secured my upper body to the padded bench, the other unlocked my leather ankle restraints from the hooks in the floor.

Annabelle strolled in casually, gazing up toward the ceiling. “Oooh, this turned out nicely!” she remarked to herself she inspected the overhead sound and LED system. “Murphy outdid himself this time.” I had no idea who Murphy was but I made a mental note of the name, adding it to my ever-expanding hit list.

“You’re actually the first prisoner to reside in this cell since it received its... updates,” Annabelle said, dropping her gaze to me. “How do you like it?” With the ring-gag still in my mouth, I said nothing and looked away in attempted disinterest.

Behind me, I could feel one of the guards hobbling my ankle cuffs together with a short chain. To the relief of my shoulder muscles, the other guard freed my arms from behind my back and allowed them to dangle freely over the ground beneath me. I suppressed the urge to moan as I rolled my aching shoulders and cracked my neck to each side. Too exhausted and naive to try to resist, I allowed him to resecure my wrist cuffs together in front of me without incident. To my disappointment, however, my moment of relief was short-lived as I felt the guard begin to pull my coupled wrists over and behind my head and lock them to the D-ring located at the back of my collar. This effectively secured me into an overarm tie, forcing my elbows into the air and exposing my armpits.

Smiling, Annabelle turned and walked over to the concrete wall to my left and placed her hand on the surface. “Oh, if these walls could talk,” she said, almost as if reminiscing to herself. Ironically, the wall she was looking at happened to be the same wall I’d heard the tap code messages coming from...

My muscles suddenly tensed as I felt one of the guards press a glass butt-plug into my anus. No matter how accustomed I’d become to having my ass penetrated, there was simply no way not to wince and tense up at the sensation of having a large object rammed past your sphincter.

Annabelle continued, unaware of my discomfort. “Years ago, I volunteered to be a guinea pig here. Served a week-long stint to get the full experience before I officially took charge.” Annabelle strolled the length of the wall, stopping about half-way and tapping on the concrete with her index finger. “If memory serves, I believe I stayed in the cell right next to this one.”

After clipping a leash to the front of my collar, the guard in front of me pulled upward, forcing me to lift my torso off of the padded bench. With my wrists now secured into an over-arm position, this required me to use my abdominal muscles to straighten upright. With the use of the leash, the guard then led me away from the bench towards Annabelle. The chain hobbling my ankles together forced me to take shorter and faster steps than I normally would have. Though still restrained, it felt good to be standing once again. Glancing down, I could see a red outline from where my torso had been resting on the padded bench for the last many hours.

Annabelle turned to inspect my naked form. “Oh, the leash won’t be necessary,” she said. “You can remove that.” The guard reached back up and unclipped my leash without hesitation. “She’ll behave, won’t you Miss Michaels?” Annabelle asked patronizingly, stepping in close enough for me to smell her minty-fresh breath. I stared at her for a second before giving a slight nod. “Good girl,” she replied, spinning on her heels to leave. “Come with me.”

Resentfully obedient, I followed her through the open door of the cell. Upon exiting, Annabelle turned right. Given the fact that I had been unconscious when I was moved to my new cell, this was the first time I was seeing the hallway. Looking to my right, the hallway appeared to have no distinguishable characteristics from the other corridors I’d seen at the kennel. When I turned my head to the left, however, I stopped dead in my tracks...

Despite having audibly heard the coded banging coming from the cell to my left, there was nothing there... Just a cement block wall. That didn’t make sense... If I had the cell at the end of the hallway, where were the messages being transmitted from? Additionally, Annabelle had specifically pointed to that wall when stating that she had once stayed in the cell next door... Perplexed, I continued studying the dead end.

“Keep up,” Annabelle said over her shoulder, snapping me out of my contemplation. The clinking of my ankle chain echoed loudly down the empty hallway as I struggled to keep up. While we walked, I instinctually took mental notes of every detail. Things like hallway length, entry/exit points, surveillance camera placement, etc. The hallway was roughly 50 feet long with eight cells total. Four on each side. The decision to place me in the cell furthest from the exit was not lost on me. Given my prior escape from the kennel, this certainly made a repeat more challenging.

At the end of the hallway was a wall-to-wall steel gate that resembled a security checkpoint at a prison. Straight ahead on the other side of that, two guards sat behind a large teller-style window. In front of the window on the left was an elevator. Once we reached the gate, Annabelle pressed a large red button which appeared to activate a buzz alarm from inside the guards’ enclosure. Nodding in recognition to Annabelle, one of the guards reached forward and silenced the alarm by prompting the gate to slide open.

As soon as we walked through the open gate, the ding of the elevator sounded and the doors to my left slid open. My heart sank a bit at the realization that my escape relied exclusively on whoever was sitting on the other side of that glass. Even if I were to defy all odds by escaping my cell and somehow making it to this point, I’d be stuck here at the end of the hall waiting for someone to summon the elevator for me...

Following behind Annabelle, I shuffled into the large elevator. Annabelle reached forward and pressed a floor button that was marked with an illuminated letter “B”. The other floor options read “1”, “G”, and “-1”. Beneath those were two additional floor buttons that were unlabeled.

A moment later, the doors slid shut and I felt the elevator lurch upward. As we ascended, I looked around and continued studying my surroundings. One overhead camera, and no visible trap doors, I thought to myself.

A few seconds later, the elevator stopped moving and the doors slid open to reveal a rustic, dimly lit stone hallway. The visual contrast between the clean and industrial look of the kennel and the dark and dingy esthetic in front of me was drastic. Immediately recognized where we were by the rusted sconces hanging on the wall. This was the long underground hallway that connected the kennel to Annabelle’s office beneath the castle. Turning right would lead us straight to where my old cell was. I had become used to the long trek to and from Annabelle’s office over the course of the week. But given the unpleasantness that awaited me at either destination, I’d come to savor the break in the action. My stomach churned at the realization that my proximity to Annabelle was now considerably closer...

As I exited the elevator, we turned right towards the antique-looking wooden doors that led to the foyer in front of Annabelle’s office. In that instance, I suddenly sensed a glimmer of optimism towards my prospects of escape... As the two of us walked alone, I realized that I didn’t need to start my breakout from my cell. What I needed was to devise a way to break out in the 20 feet between the elevator and the foyer. Unlike previous visits, I didn’t have any guards escorting me. It was just Annabelle and me...

On the other side of the door, there were always two guards stationed outside of Annabelle’s office, but if I was somehow able to free my arms and legs and disarm my collar prior to entering the foyer, I had few concerns about overpowering them. And then it would be a straight shot to the outside...

Immediately upon stepping through the wooden doors into the foyer, we were greeted by a petite blonde sitting behind a semi-circle in the middle of the room.

“Good morning, ma’am,” the blonde said reverently as she bowed her head toward Annabelle.

Like most of the female employees I’d seen here, her hands were cuffed in front of her while she typed on her keyboard. Instinctively, my eyes flicked to the left where two guards stood at attention on either side of the door to Annabelle’s office.

“Madame,” Annabelle corrected the blonde coldly as she walked by.

“Oh, of course,” the girl corrected herself, sheepishly. “My mistake, madame.”

“Set up a meeting with Priya for 1pm,” Annabelle interrupted without looking at her. Ignoring the guards, Annabelle grabbed the office door’s handle and pulled it open. “If she tries to push back, tell her I insist,” she added to the secretary.

“Yes, madame,” the girl replied.

Holding the door open, Annabelle gave an in-genuine smile and motioned for me to enter with her other hand. Stepping inside, I glanced around, curiously scanning the dungeon like cellar for anything out of place that might be of assistance to me. Unfortunately, Annabelle’s office was unchanged from the last time I’d seen it. Minimalist and stark with only a few items- a black glass desk, a closed laptop, two chairs, and what looked like a large gun safe against the back wall.

“Head on in and have a seat,” Annabelle chirped as if it were a suggestion. “I’ll be in momentarily.” Then, she pulled the door closed, locking me inside her office alone. Slowly, I approached the familiar ladder-back chair sitting in front of the desk. While the chair may have looked ordinary from afar, as I stepped closer, the dreaded dildo came into view. Standing erect in the center of the leather- padded seat cushion was a massive dildo. This was the same dildo I had sat upon for each of my daily “one-on-one sessions” since landing in the kennel a week ago.

At my first one-on-one, I refused to sit down voluntarily. As you might have guessed, this resulted in being forcibly seated by the two guards stationed outside. Seeing Annabelle’s enjoyment as she watched me be overpowered and impaled against my will was enough to prevent me from ever giving her the satisfaction again.

Taking a deep sigh, I swallowed my pride and lowered myself onto the massive phallus. I closed my eyes as the cold tip of the dildo pressed entered my pussy. I was still horny as hell, but knew that this particular phallus would not help me achieve the sexual release that I longed for. This phallus was what Annabelle described as an “anchor dildo”. Simply put, once it went in, it couldn’t come out.

The sides of the dildo were made of hard plastic scales that mimicked the look of a fish. Anyone who’s ever gone fishing can relate to the tactile differences between sliding your hand across a fish in different directions. It was the same basic principle with this dildo. Going into my pussy was smooth sailing, but trying to pull it out would cause the sharp edges of the scales to lift and dig painfully into the walls of my vagina. Needless to say, the anchor dildo lived up to its name.

I groaned in a mixture of shame and discomfort as my full weight came to rest on the padded seat cushion. Not only did the dildo feel larger today, its position made it nearly impossible to avoid putting weight directly onto the butt-plug in my ass. Fully impaled, I was now trapped on the seat until Annabelle chose to release me.

I rolled my eyes at the sight of our digital chess game that was already cued on the glass surface of the desk. Annabelle’s desk was basically a massive touch screen computer. A ridiculously unnecessary piece of technology that, by my observations, was only used for the sake of playing an ongoing game of chess during visits... During every one-on-one session, we would each make one move. Given my week-long stay at the kennel, today’s move will have been my seventh. Above the board were the words “Brandy Michaels : Day 7”.

Over the past week, I had learned that Annabelle was strangely obsessed with the game of chess and seemed to think of it as a sort of insight into a player’s psyche. Little did she know, I was employing no strategy whatsoever. I hadn’t played chess since middle school and couldn’t have given two shits about who won or lost. The outcome was of no consequence to me and warranted zero concern on my part. Like my trek to and from Annabelle’s office, chess-time was nothing more than a calm before another inevitable storm.

Given the fact that I was always restrained during these visits, I wasn’t able to actually make my moves by touching the screen. Instead, I had to speak the commands verbally. To help with this, the virtual game board also included “algebraic notations”. The letters “a” through “h” were marked across the bottom of the board and and the numbers “1” through “8” were marked vertically on the left-hand side. My last move had been “Queen to B3”. So far, I’d managed to kill one of Annabelle’s pawns while she’d taken out a pawn and a knight.

Just then, I heard the door behind me open, followed by the clicking of high heels against the stone floor. The sound had become iconic to her. Almost like the tick-tock sound of Captain Hook’s dreaded crocodile.

“Alright,” She whispered excitedly to herself as she approached me from behind. To my relief, I felt her unbuckling the straps of my ring-gag. A few seconds later, the gag was pulled from my mouth, prompting me to groan softly as I worked my jaw open and closed for the first time in hours.

“You know,” she said as she stepped around me, “the gag wasn’t even on the schedule for last night. It was only added after the disrespect you showed Officer Trimble.”

I ignored her, keeping my gaze fixed on the digital chess board. Annabelle sat down in her tall office chair and crossed her legs.

“Your life will only continue to worsen until you learn to accept your new circumstances, Ms. Michaels,” she continued. “I get the difficulties of transitioning to from soldier to sex slave, but the other members of your little squad are considerably further along than you are. They’ve even begun to enjoy minor privileges like sleep. And solid foods...”

As a former interrogator, I knew exactly what Annabelle was doing. The most common trick in the book was to make a prisoner believe that his or her captured comrades were now cooperating with the enemy. In this case, however, the idea of any of the other 5 women breaking within their first week was unlikely to say the least.

“You will break, Ms. Michaels,” Annabelle cooed. “Personally, I’m in no hurry to facilitate it, but it will happen.” A smile suddenly widened across her face. “There’s a small part of me that hopes it will take years.”

I turned my head away in suppressed anger. Despite recognizing her mind-games for what they were, her words still weighed heavily on me. The thought of suffering through this torment for years was downright maddening.

“Frankly, I find your resistance adorable and I imagine I’ll be heartbroken when it finally disappears.” She gave a chuckle as she spun in her office chair. “But it will happen. And when it does, you’ll only resent yourself for not having acquiesced sooner.”

“How’s the dildo today, by the way?” She asked, abruptly changing subjects. “I’ve increased the diameter by a half an inch. As you may have noticed.”

I ignored her, practicing deep breathing to curb my instinct to say something I’d regret.

I suddenly flinched as I felt an electric zap to both of my nipples beneath the coin tassels. Flicking my eyes back towards Annabelle, I saw her left index finger lift off an illuminated button on her touch-screen desk.

“What was that, Ms. Michaels?” Annabelle asked, her finger hovering threateningly above the button.

“Yes, I noticed,” I replied in a low voice.

To my surprise, Annabelle’s finger tapped the button once again, prompting me to groan through gritted teeth as electricity coursed once more through my tender nipples.

“Yes I noticed, what?” Annabelle prompted, tilting her ear toward me.

I took a deep breath and looked away before replying, “I noticed, ma’am.”

“Oh good,” Annabelle replied giddily. “You’re a smart girl, Ms. Michaels. Let’s see just how smart, shall we?” Annabelle then leaned over the desk and tapped the digital time clock on the right hand side of the chess board. “You have one minute to make your move,” she added.

I stared at the chess board, feeling a strong sense of disinterest wash over me. Frankly, I was much more intrigued by the idea of a full solid minute of peace and quiet. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. For a few precious moments, everything vanished. My mind was able to go blank and I felt myself instantly drift toward sleep.

My euphoria ended almost immediately as I felt my nipples pelted with electricity again. My eyes shot open to see Annabelle’s finger pressed firmly on the illuminated button.

 “Ah ah ah,” she said condescendingly as she lifted her finger off the button. “No sleeping during your turn.” I clenched my jaw as I dug deep for the strength not to retaliate. It was my turn, dammit! I fumed silently. I should be able to spend the minute however I liked!

“We wouldn’t want you mixing up your nights and days, would we?” Annabelle added. Suddenly, my rage was replaced with an odd sense of deja vu. Nights and days... The reference pulled me straight back to the tap-code message I’d received earlier. Night to day... Night to day... Dammit, what the hell did it mean? What the hell was the purpose for saying it?

Given how dedicated Annabelle was to this stupid game, I defiantly spent the bulk of my minute pondering the enigmatic message. Even the chess-board’s grid served as a taunting reminder of the tap code cipher that I’d dedicated to memory.

“10 seconds, Ms. Michaels,” Annabelle warned softly, snapping me out of my thoughts. Failing to make my move before the timer sounded was not a mistake I planned on making again. During our first one-on-one meeting, I had refused to participate in the game and let the time expire. Let’s just say that my ass hole tinged and ached for the following day and a half... Solving the “night to day” conundrum would need to be postponed.

Glossing over the board, I shook my head in indifference. None of this fucking meant anything to me!

“Move-” I began and suddenly stopped short of completing the command. I paused as my brain suddenly felt as if it had been struck by lightning. My eyes darted to my remaining knight... My eyes instantly opened wide in revelation.

“There’s no K,” I breathed to myself in barely a whisper. My mind raced to catch up with my discovery. Tap code had no signal for the letter K! I thought. It was the only letter in the alphabet omitted from the cipher! I had been so busy contemplating the words “night to day”, that I hadn’t considered that “night” may not have been “night” at all! What if my cell-pen pal had meant “knight”? Wait, I thought, that still didn’t make sense... Knight to day? Knight to da...

“Knight to D2!” I blurted out loudly. No sooner did the words come out of my mouth, the electronic timer buzzed loudly. Adrenaline now pumping, I watched as the black knight’s horse symbol began to slide across the screen to the D2 position.

I had misread the entire message! It wasn’t night to day or knight to “DA”. It was knight to “D2”! Unless a tap code receiver is expecting a number, it’s possible to mistake it for a letter. In this case, the code sequence for the letter A happens to be the exact same sequence as the code for the number 2. Tap, pause, tap.

“Knight to D2,” I repeated proudly with a smile, raising my gaze to a visibly confused Annabelle.

She merely blinked back at me, clearly at a loss for words after my bizarre outburst. For several seconds, neither of us said anything. I got the sense that she was studying me. Psychoanalyzing not only my move but the manner in which I had made it.

Riding the wave of self-congratulation, I maintained my smug stare. I honestly had no idea whether my “knight to d2” move was good or bad. Like I said- I hated board games and had little to no interest in improving. Regardless, sinking a buzzer shot would never not feel satisfying. Especially against someone as cocky and arrogant as Annabelle. Confidence boosters were a rare commodity these days and I was gonna to relish every millisecond of it.

Annabelle’s gaze lowered to the glass desk as she silently slid her index finger across a virtual gauge. Then, she pressed the illuminated button once again, sending electricity not only to my nipple coin tassels but also the butt-plug that was still lodged in my ass. This effectively ended my victory lap. I threw my head back as best as my over-arm tie would allow and howled in agony. I instinctively tried to leap to my feet, but had forgotten about the anchor dildo tethering me to the chair. My fists clenched as the rigid scales of the dildo dug painfully into the walls of my vagina. Not only was the electrical current significantly stronger than the previous shocks to my nipples, but the assault lasted a full five seconds before subsiding. When it finally did end, I relaxed in my seat, panting heavily.

“What an odd little performance,” Annabelle mused inquisitively.

Gritting my teeth, I breathed through my nose as I glared back at her.

“Relax your face, Ms. Michaels,” Annabelle said calmly.

Fuck. You,” I hissed at her through my heavy breathing.

Smiling, Annabelle pressed the illuminated button again, once again lighting me up like a Christmas tree. I shrieked loudly, tossing my head back and forth in a fit of rage. Five seconds later, the agony ceased again, leaving me panting for breath.

“I said relax your face,” Annabelle repeated.

BITCH!” I bellowed, causing spit to fly out of my mouth. My fingernails dug into my palms and my toes clenched against the stone floor as I trembled from the lingering effects of the electricity. “I swear I’m gonna kill you someday,” I said through gritted teeth.

Annabelle’s grin widened as she leaned back in her chair. As good as it felt to give her a fight, the downside was that she was clearly enjoying the show I was giving her. This was the double-edged sword of being an unwilling captive to a sadist.

With her index finger hovering menacingly over the button, she coo’d, “Relax your face, sex slave.”

I knew how this was going to end. It would inevitably be the same result as every other confrontation I had with Annabelle. I would keep digging in my heels and she’d keep punishing me. Eventually, I would have no choice but to forfeit and give her the reaction she wanted. Even if only just for show.

Eat shit,” I spat back.

Annabelle’s grin widened and I closed my eyes to brace for another bout. But to my relief, I heard a knock at the door.

“Yes?” Annabelle called out. I opened my eyes to see her finger less than a centimeter away from the virtual button.

I turned as best I could in my seat to see an attractive and slender Indian woman standing in the doorway. She was wearing what looked to be business attire and wore a serious look on her face.

“You asked to see me?” She said in what sounded like an irritated tone.

“Priya! Come in please,” Annabelle said with false excitement. “Ms. Michaels, I’d like for you to meet Priya Puri, our resident psychiatrist. Priya, this helpless creature is Brandy Michaels.”

Without even looking at me, the woman named Priya remained where she was in the doorway, "I’m leading a group session in 10 minutes,” She said in an irritated tone. “What’s your question?”

Annabelle maintained her smile. “I wanted to hear an update from you on the switch program proposal.”

“I’m free to speak after 4pm when my appointments are completed,” Priya replied matter-of-factly. It was abundantly clear by her tone and demeanor that this woman was not a fan of Annabelle’s. This made me instinctively like her.

Undaunted by the woman’s obvious coldness, Annabelle shook her head in faux pleasantry. “I’m afraid that doesn’t work for me. It shouldn’t take you long to appraise me on the progress” she said with a sense of finality. “The prisoners will be fine waiting for a few minutes.”

The woman named Priya blinked before replying, “Except it wouldn’t just be a few minutes, seeing as how the group meets all the way over in row D. I’m already late, so 4pm will have to be sufficient.”

“Actually,” Annabelle interjected as she stood to her feet, “I’ve got some work to take care of over on rows D and E as well. You can appraise me as we walk.”

“Great,” Priya replied coldly.

Annabelle glanced down at the virtual chess board and quickly made her move. “Ms. Michaels, I’m afraid our discussion will have to be tabled for another time,” she said as she tapped on the two different squares, causing the castle-looking icon to slide horizontally across the board. “I know how disappointed you must be,” she added as she walked confidently past me to the door.

I had dodged a bullet. My meetings with Annabelle had sometimes lasted up to an hour and involved some of the least pleasant experiences imaginable. Today, that unpleasantness had been reduced to minutes. I sighed silently with relief.

“Guard,” Annabelle stated from the doorway, “Ms. Michaels will be staying behind for some extracurriculars.” This prompted my stomach to churn. Perhaps, I hadn’t dodged anything... “I’m putting her on a cum-clense cycle. Poor thing hasn’t been permitted climax in quite some time. Please make sure she stays put until I return. Shouldn’t be more than an hour and a half or so.”

“WHAT?!” I bellowed, spinning my head toward the door in horrified disbelief. Cum-clenses were essentially prolonged forced orgasm sessions. Up til now, the longest cycle I’d experienced was a half hour.

“Oh, don’t pretend that you don’t want it,” Annabelle chided back at me. “I saw how badly you wanted a climax back in your cell. Now, you’ll get to have dozens and dozens of them...”

YOU FUCKING BITCH!” I shrieked after her, twisting pointlessly in my bonds.

Smirking, she held up her smartphone and dramatically tapped a green button on the screen. Suddenly, the anchor dildo trapped inside of me sprang to life. I winced as the violent vibrations caused the ridges of the dildo’s scales to dig into my vaginal walls. As much as I had wanted an orgasm earlier, this was perhaps the worst and least comfortable way to go about it. This fucking hurt.

“Enjoy your cleanse, Ms. Michaels,” she gloated as the door closed behind her.

“Uuuuuugh!” I shrieked in helpless frustration. To my surprise, the sound of my scream appeared to trigger a response from my unwanted accessories. The vibrator’s intensity suddenly dimmed to a low rumble, giving my vagina a moment of relief. But simultaneously, for the duration of my outburst, electricity suddenly began coursing painfully through my butt-plug and nipple coin tassels. As soon as my voice fell silent, the electricity ceased, and the vibrator returned to its unbearably strong intensity. Great, I thought. Nothing like a bit of predicament bondage to pass the time. The only way to stop myself from cumming over and over was to willfully subject my nipples and anus to electrocution...

My fists and toes clenched as I contemplated the sick brilliance of it all. Whatever was going to happen over the next hour and a half would effectively be my own doing. As a trained interrogator, I knew the technique well. It was an effective method for turning a prisoner against him or herself. Transitioning them into their own enemy. After a prolonged period of time of choosing one form of torture over another, it’s only natural for the afflicted to begin to resent themselves for the paths that they choose. Anger is slowly replaced by sentiments of guilt and shame. Beneath all of the physical tortures, it’s actually an assault on the mind. Designed to break down a person’s sense of pride and self-worth. The reason why this method was so popular amongst interrogators across the world is that it fucking worked...

I held my breath to stop myself from screaming as my first orgasm crashed over me. The last thing I wanted after all this time being denied an orgasm was for my climax to be ruined by the vibrator suddenly shutting off. There would be a time in the near future where electricity would be preferable to my ecstasy, but for now, I was grateful for the sexual release I’d waited so long for. Once my involuntary convulsing and quivering finally ended, I resorted to groaning at a medium volume in order to ease the vibrator’s relentless stimuli. As expected, the vibrator’s intensity dimmed but anus and nipples paid the price. I grimaced as I fluctuated my volume louder and softer to find the perfect balance. I was already beginning to loathe my circumstances.

Regardless of the psychological outcome that my predicament bondage would have on me, one thing was for damn certain. The next hour and a half was going to be fucking brutal...

02.02.2021

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