The Kingdom

by Southrook

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© Copyright 2021 - Southrook - Used by permission

Storycodes: MF/f+; bond; latex; straitjacket; prison; gag; electro; collar; mittens; machine; dildo; buttplug; spank; punish; predicament; nc; XX

Continues from


I shifted weakly in my restraints, hoping to find a more comfortable position on the bed I was restrained to. For the past several hours, I’d been lying on my back, immobilized by a latex straitjacket and leashed to the top of my bed frame. A leather strap connecting the front and back of the straitjacket ran uncomfortably between my naked legs. Fortunately, my feet were left unrestrained so I was able to curl in a fetal position to compensate for the lack of a blanket.

My cell-mate here at the kennel had been summoned by security guards about an hour and a half earlier, leaving me completely alone. Typically, I hated being alone. But not tonight. I found solitude preferable since it allowed me to wallow and sob as loudly as I wished. It hadn’t even been a full night since Jodie had abruptly kicked me out but it felt as if days had passed. I couldn’t ever remember feeling so hurt and confused. The events of the previous evening had all happened so fast. One moment, I was making Jodie a cup of coffee and the next I was soaking wet from the rain, checking myself back into the kennel.

Normally, I’d have taken an Ambien to take the edge off after such a horrible day. But self-medicating was now a privilege of the past. Here, I was a full-blown prisoner and my future had never felt more uncertain. And that uncertainty was taking an emotional toll. A few hours ago, I’d woken up to a full-blown panic attack. Medical staff quickly rushed in to untether me and helped me with deep breathing exercises. Eventually, once I regained my composure, I was returned to my straitjacket and leash and instructed to sleep. However, the staff must have taken pity on me because the straps were noticeably less strict than they had been earlier.

Given everything that had transpired, sleeping was easier said than done. For hours, I could only stare at the ceiling contemplating the horrors that awaited me when I eventually left this place. Tom Murphy, owner of the sex machine shop called Murphy’s Hall, had purchased me several days ago at the auction. After accidentally poisoning me, he ended up getting thrown promptly into the kennel on charges of negligence. This meant that I, as well as Murphy’s other slave, Tasha Quincy were required to serve the same stretch of time. 

But to my relief, I was saved. Jodie swept in and saved me from the jaws of despair. She managed to strike a deal that allowed me to stay with her for the duration of Murphy’s sentence. And not only that, she promised to buy me from Murphy as soon as his sentence was complete. Despite having only known her for a few days, I connected with Jodie more deeply than I could have thought possible. But none of that mattered anymore. Because she didn’t feel the same way I felt about her and she ultimately sent me away.

The sound of the cell door sliding open snapped me out of my thoughts and prompted me to lift my head. Without my glasses, I had to squint to make out the two figures as they entered the cell. A security guard briskly led my cellmate, Tasha, toward a bed on the opposite side of the room by the leash. Tasha was a beautiful and toned black woman with a shaved head and she too was a slave of Tom Murphy. She was, by far, the toughest woman I’d encountered in this place and seemed almost undaunted by everything that was happening to her. In a strange way, her resilience inspired me to be stronger. Or at least to pretend to be.

Tasha wore a black straitjacket matching the one I had on, but hers appeared smaller due to the larger size of her breasts. Once they reached the twin-size bed, the guard attached the end of the leash to a peg in the center of the horizontal bar at the top of the bed frame. After giving her a push, Tasha sat silently onto the bed as he proceeded to unbuckle her ring-gag and pull it from her mouth. As soon as it was free from her behind her teeth, she let out a relieved groan and worked her jaw open and closed.

Before turning to leave, the guard condescendingly patted Tasha’s cheek with his hand. I could see Tasha’s eyes close in suppressed rage as the man walked back to the entrance of the cell.

Stopping in the doorway, the guard gave the touchscreen on the wall a few taps. Suddenly, Tasha grunted as her predicament began to change. The horizontal bar that her leash had been connected to began to spin, effectively causing the leash to shorten as it spooled. To avoid being choked, Tasha laid down on the bed and scooted toward the top. Once there was about 10 inches of slack, the bar stopped spinning, allowing Tasha to cease her efforts to crawl any closer. She sighed as she rested the side of her face on the mattress.

“Current’s live in three,” the guard said before making a final tap to the touch screen and turning to leave.

I knew what this meant and quickly began scooting down as low as I could without being choked by my leash. As soon as I was able, I pressed the soles of my feet onto the horizontal steel bar at the base of the bed frame in order to avoid being pelted with electricity through my collar. So long as my feet were touching the bar, I’d be safe.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I heard Tasha mutter from across the room. “Uh, little help here?” Tasha called to the guard as she squirmed frantically toward the foot of her bed. Her feet flailed as she desperately tried to make contact with the horizontal bar. “Hello?!

Just then, I heard the cell door begin to slide shut, followed by Tasha’s ear-piercing shriek. “AAAAAAHHHHHH!” She screamed, obviously feeling the effects of the electricity to her neck. “Did that fucker seriously leave?!” She screamed as her neck craned upward to buy herself another inch. 

I watched helplessly as Tasha writhed in agony. Despite her grandest efforts, the tautness of her leash prevented her from moving far enough down the bed for her feet to reach the bar. 

“Tasha, try to scoot toward me!” I called over urgently. “It looks like you’ll have more slack if you scoot to your left.” Screaming through gritted teeth, Tasha took my advice and rolled over to face me. Surely enough, it did seem to buy her a little bit of slack. Using that slack to scoot further down the bed, Tasha was finally able to stop shouting in pain as the tips of her big toes were able to make contact with the bar at the foot of her bed.

Fucker!” Tasha hollered as she arched her back to further elongate herself. After a labored sigh, she added, “My shins are definitely gonna feel this tomorrow.” 

“I’m so sorry, Tasha,” I replied.

Tasha gave a long frustrated sigh. “You know, I was actually excited when I found out that I was coming to the kennel. After everything Murphy’s put me through this past week, I figured this might even feel like a vacation. What a fuckin’ fool I am.” Unsure of how to console her, I didn’t say anything. “How the panic attacks?” She added. “Have any more episodes since I left?

“Um, I feel a bit better now,” I replied. “No more episodes.”

“Shame,” Tasha replied curtly.

“Sorry?” I asked, tilting my head in confusion.

“I mean, shame in the sense that it bought you some sympathy. Less than a minute after you started hyperventilating, the medical staff rushed in, untethered you, tended to your every need,” she clarified. “I wish I knew how to hyperventilate like that.”

“I wasn’t faking,” I stated, coming across more defensive than I’d intended.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to imply you were,” Tasha countered. “These collars don’t sound the alarms for acting performances. Only for real emergencies.” I stayed silent, unsure how to reply. Her implication that having a panic attack was preferable to not having one was supremely inaccurate. But not wishing to get into a debate, I decided to let it go.

“I’m sure panic attacks are no picnic,” Tasha clarified. “I’m just saying that after your episode they cleared your schedule for the night.”

I hesitated before replying, “They did?”

“Yep,” Tasha replied. “Scheduled me for a double shift to let you rest.”

A cloud of guilt suddenly descended upon me. “I’m- so sorry,” I breathed.

“Ah, fuck it,” Tasha replied. “It’s nothing different from what I was doing before you got here.”

“What did they do to you?” I asked hesitantly.

“Eh, nothing I couldn’t handle,” Tasha deflected. “Compared to the shit I dealt with at Murphy’s, it wasn’t too bad.”

“And what kind of things happened to you at Murphy’s?” I asked, partially out of concern for Tasha and partially out of worry for my own future. “If you don’t mind my asking."

“You wanna know what to expect,” Tasha replied, having read my mind.

“Yes,” I answered quietly.

“Welp, the fucker builds and sells fucking machines,” Tasha replied. “Which makes me his full-time guinea pig slash demonstration model. Basically, I get my pussy and ass pounded at various speeds by phalluses of various sizes for… well, most of the entire day.”

“That sounds… awful,” I replied in a horrified whisper.

“Eventually, yes,” Tasha replied. “But it helps to think of each day as a roller coaster. Each has ups and downs. As a nympho, I fuckin’ crave sex. I don’t care if it’s girl-on-guy, girl-on-girl, girl-on-girl-on-guy-guy-guy. I just wake up each morning with an unshakable longing to be stuffed. And on one hand, it’s nice to know that a thick rubber dildo is almost always in my immediate future. But on the other hand, it’s a classic case of having too much of a good thing. Basically, each day starts off feeling good, all things considering. Up until the point that it doesn’t. And that’s when the roller coaster ceases to be enjoyable.”

“Have you ever asked him to- you know, ease up?” I asked. “I mean, does he ever stop when he sees that you’ve had too much?”

Tasha suddenly began laughing. “Sweetie, that old bastard doesn’t take requests from nobody. After I made the mistake of telling him how much I hated vibrators, he literally built a new sybian with an extra-high setting.” I said nothing, weighing the gravity of her words. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.

“But with you joining me at Murphy’s,” Tasha continued, “I’m hoping that the workload might be a bit less on account of his focus being more… spread out. Less track for the roller coaster, so to speak. Instead of one person being fucked out by noon, maybe the both of us might be able enjoy the ride til, I don’t know, dinnertime…”

“You’re on the machines all day?” I asked incredulously. 

“Sometimes nights too,” Tasha replied, making me gulp.

“And what about… real intercourse?” I asked.

“Well, prior to coming to the kennel, I never even saw the old man naked. That was probably the nicest thing about my time at Murphy’s Hall. No matter how much I had on my plate, at least I didn’t have to fuck a shriveled old dick.”

“But wait- I thought he captured you on the hunt.” I countered. “Didn’t he have to… you know-”

“Oh, don’t even get me started on that,” Tasha replied, her voice suddenly sounding angry. “That bastard only caught me because he rigged an unlocking station with his cock-ring.”

My mouth dropped in surprise. “No way.”

“Yyyyep,” she replied spitefully. “I’d already unlocked my gag and was only one lock away from winning the whole damn thing. But when I found the second unlocking station, I didn’t spot the cock-ring at the base of the dildo. Instead of unlocking my chastity belt, I ended up capturing myself. For him.”

“Oh my god, Tasha,” I replied. “I don’t even know what to say. That’s so unfair!”

“Tell me about it,” Tasha grumbled. “I tried to contest the capture, but the gamesmen were just a bunch of racist pricks.”

“That makes me so angry for you,” I said, shaking my head.

“Yeah, me too,” Tasha replied. “But all that to say, the old geezer never even tried to fuck me. I was starting to think he might be asexual. But as it turned out, he was impotent.”

“Impotent?” I asked in relief. “Oh thank god!” The emotional weight on my shoulders suddenly seemed to lift. As a sexually inexperienced lesbian, the thought of being forced to have sex with a sadistic older man was terrifying.

“Well, not so fast,” Tasha interjected. “I said he was impotent. Apparently, he was in an accident or some shit that caused nerve damage. Couldn’t get hard anymore. But, yesterday, all that changed.”

“Wait. What? How?” I asked.

“When we were admitted to the kennel, he and I started off in a cell together. And the lady who runs this place- uh, Annabelle I think her name is- she came in and offered him some cutting-edge medical procedure that would raise his dick from the dead. And he agreed.”

“Did it work?” I asked cautiously.

Tasha gave a long sigh. “Welp, after just completing a combined total of three hours of forced cock-worship, I can confirm… it worked. That’s actually what I was doing on your shift right before this.”

“Oh god,” I whispered, feeling my optimism vanish. “How is that even possible? I mean, what kind of medical procedure can even do that?”

“Well whatever it was left his dick unrecognizable, I’ll tell you that,” Tasha replied.

“Huh?” I asked, unsure that I really wanted clarification.

“Well, before he went in for surgery, when we shared the cell together, it looked all shriveled and old and pasty,” she explained. “But when he got out- damn, that fucker was big. Like, BBC big. Whatever they did must’ve drastically increased blood flow or something. The shaft has like, these metallic gold strips tattooed from the flap to his lower abdomen. Kind of like soldering on a computer chip.”

“Artificial nerve endings,” I mused quietly.

“Maybe,” Tasha replied. “But whatever they are, it makes it work like a normal dick. Goes soft to hard, throbs, cums, everything you’d expect. Only bigger.”

“I think I feel sick,” I muttered as I contemplated my future.

“Yeah, things will probably be a bit different moving forward,” Tasha added.

Just then, the cell door slid open and two guards entered. One guard began tapping on the touchpad by the door and the one behind him carried in a tray holding four bowls. Suddenly, the horizontal bars at our headboards began to spin the opposite way they had earlier, loosening the leashes that were coiled around it. I heard Tasha groan in relief as her neck was finally relieved of the strain that her leash had caused for the last 10 minutes.

Then the tray was placed on the floor between Tasha and me. Even without my glasses, I could see that two of the bowls contained water and the other two contained a substance that resembled oatmeal. As I stared at the unappealing gruel, one of the guards stepped up beside me and unclipped my leash. Then, he unbuckled the leather strap between my legs. The other guard repeated the same process for Tasha.

“You both have four minutes to eat and use the bathroom,” said one of the guards as they turned to leave the cell. “Then, you’ll be taken to group.”

“So, five minutes is strictly out of the question?” asked Tasha sarcastically as she sat upright and placed her feet on the floor. The guards ignored her as they exited. “Good talk!” Tasha added antagonistically as the door slid closed behind them.

“What did he mean by group?” I asked as I sat upright.

“Ugh, it’s this AA-style group therapy nonsense we’re forced to go to every other day,” Tasha explained. “Essentially an hour for us to bitch about how sad and unfair our lives are. It’s new this year. Pet project of some Indian doctor chick.” Tasha knelt down onto her knees and leaned over her bowl of food. “Better eat up, K,” she said. “Whatever you don’t finish is thrown away. And who knows if or when they’ll serve lunch.”

I watched in mild disgust as Tasha began licking and slurping her oatmeal like a dog. The more time that passed, the more this place actually began to feel like a kennel. Following Tasha’s lead, I dropped to my knees as well and began scooping oatmeal into my mouth with my tongue. Fortunately, my hair had been tied up in a bun so I didn’t have to worry about hair in my mouth. I scrunched my nose as I forced myself to swallow the tasteless sludge. It wasn’t bad, necessarily. But the consistency and texture was almost unappetizing enough to trigger my gag reflex. I forced myself to consume 10 licks before finally calling it quits. Tasha continued to lick noisily until her bowl was completely clean. Then, she began lapping up water from the bowl next to it. Moments later, she straightened back up, arching her back and licking the remnants of oatmeal from her lips. I looked away, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable. But Tasha seemed entirely unfazed by this meal routine. Almost as if she’d done it hundreds of times. Without saying a word, she stood to her feet and crossed over to the toilet against the far wall.

“Sorry if this grosses you out,” Tasha said as she sat down on the toilet.

“No, you’re fine,” I said as I struggled to my feet. Trying to give Tasha some privacy, I walked to the other side of the room. A few seconds later, the toilet flushed automatically and Tasha stood to her feet.

“All yours,” Tasha said.

“Oh, thanks.” I said awkwardly as I crossed the room and sat on the toilet. As soon as I finished receiving myself, a geyser suddenly pelted my sex, rinsing me clean. No matter how many times I’d used a bidet, I don’t think I’ve ever not jumped out of my skin from the sensation. Even when I was controlling when it happened, it always seemed to catch me off-guard.

No sooner did I stand to my feet, the door of the cell slid back open and the two guards came back inside, leash in hand.

“Break’s over,” the guard in front said. “Time for group.”

Without any instruction, Tasha walked up to them and stood patiently while one of the guards re-buckled the leather strap between her legs clipped a leash to her collar. Following her lead, I stepped in front of them as well. I closed my eyes as I felt the other guard's fingers graze my sex as he secured the strap between my legs. Next, my leash was attached to my collar. Without saying another word, the guards pulled us from our cell by our leashes and led us down the long hallway. After about a minute’s walk, we stopped in front of a large frosted-glass-paneled sliding door. 

After one of our guards pressed a key card against the locking mechanism on the wall, the door slid open, revealing a room full of women seated in chairs positioned in a circle formation. Only two seats remained unoccupied. All but one of the women were attired as we were. Pantless, shoeless, collared, and straitjacketed. The only woman who was not wearing a straitjacket or collar was an attractive well-dressed Indian woman in a white doctor’s jacket. She sat with her legs crossed, holding a clipboard in her lap.

“Welcome,” said the Indian woman with a smile. After the guards unclipped our leashes, she motioned toward the two empty seats to her right. “Please take a seat,” she added pleasantly. Tasha and I obliged and sat down next to each other. “Well, now that everyone’s here, let’s go ahead and get started. If you’re joining us for the first time today, my name is Dr. Priya Puri. I’m a clinical psychologist who was hired to counsel and support women such as yourselves.”

A blonde woman sitting across from me snorted loudly, rolling her eyes.

Priya ignored her and continued, “Everyone in this room is here due to malfeasants or violations committed by their owners. It’s only natural for someone in your position to feel resentful, confused, and even hurt. The purpose of these group sessions is to help everyone work through feelings of stress and negativity in order to find a healthy and manageable path forward.”

I looked around the room, surprised to see the unanimous expressions of disinterest written on everyone’s faces. To me, this seemed like the only humane practice I’d encountered since arriving at the kennel. I, for one, felt instantly relieved to be here.

“Everyone here signed a contract for three months of servitude,” Priya continued. “This is a very long period of time for a person to harbor a predominantly negativity mentality. In my line of work, I’ve studied the psychological and physical toll that such emotional distress can take on a person. One of the most critical steps to easing high levels of tension and stress is communication. As you’re undoubtedly aware, communication is not always a luxury that is afforded to you outside of this room. But, over the next hour, I want each of you to feel safe to speak freely and openly without fear of repercussion.”

“And what assurances do we have that there won’t be any repercussions?” the blonde who snorted challenged. “How do we know that you’re not delivering our words straight to the assholes who guard us?”

“I promise that I would never do that,” Priya replied. “Not unless you specifically request me to.”

“Oh really?” The blonde woman said as she leaned forward in her chair. “Because, in our last session, I told everyone how much I despise butt-plugs. Would you like to take a guess what’s been lodged in my ass every night since?”

“I’m sure that must be very difficult,” Priya replied softly. 

Fuck you,” the woman spat. “And fuck this fake therapy bullshit! All of this is just another way for y’all to fuck with us. A scheme to trick us into telling you our weaknesses and soft-spots.”

“I can assure you that's not true,” Priya said calmly. “In fact, Clara Peters,” Priya glanced down at her notebook and flipped through several pages. “-according to your file, you were not fitted with a plug on Wednesday night after your session. You only began wearing one late on Thursday evening after your accident.”

“Daaayum,” Tasha muttered softly as snickers could audibly be heard around the room.

The woman named Clara suddenly turned beat red and looked away. Even from across the room, I could see her jaw muscles clench and her nostrils flair with anger.

“Nobody here is forced to share anything they do not wish to,” Priya pressed on, scanning the room. “I understand how fragile trust must be for some of you right now and I know that I’m essentially a stranger to you. But as someone who has been in your shoes before, I know first-hand how important it is to have a release-mechanism in the midst of all that’s going on.”

“Damn, she’s good,” Tasha muttered, soft enough for only me to hear. I had to agree. Priya was clearly as bright as she was well-spoken. Just after the course of a minute, I found myself feeling more relaxed than I’d felt since arriving at the kennel. 

“So, let’s start by going around the circle clockwise and introducing ourselves,” Priya said with a smile. “As I said earlier, I’m Dr. Priya Puri but you can call me Priya.”

“Lexi,” said the woman next to her.

“Chantelle,” said the next.

“Madison,” said the next.

“Clara,” muttered the still blushing blonde.

“Willow,” said the next.

“Brielle,” said the next.

“Pass,” Tasha, replied bluntly.

“Katie,” I said in a quieter voice than I intended. 

“Sydney,” said the girl to my left.

“Okay,” Priya replied with a smile. “Very nice to formally meet everyone. Would anyone like to share first?” Nobody answered for several seconds. “Madison?” she coaxed. “How are you sleeping? In our last session, you expressed difficulty with insomnia.”

“Uh, yeah. Pretty much the same as last time,” replied the girl named Madison. “Still having nightmares.”

“Do you feel comfortable sharing those with us?” Priya pressed.

“Oh, you know- same old nightmares as last time,” Madison replied with a touch of attitude. “Being choked by a sweaty middle-easterner until I pass out. Then, I wake up to realize that- it wasn’t a nightmare but, rather, a memory. And for the rest of the night, I’m left awake thinking about how, in a few short days, I get to go back into the custody of that sweaty middle-easterner.” Madison’s gaze dropped to the floor and I could see her foot tapping nervously. “And he’ll be free to do the same thing to me all over again. And who’s to say that I’ll make it through the next time?” Madison raised her gaze and scanned the room with a fake smile. “So, how’s everybody else sleeping?”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Madison,” Priya replied after a brief pause. “If it’s of any consolation, your owner has been informed that his next offense will result in the permanent loss of his slave-owning privileges and you’ll be removed from his custody.”

“Which means that I’ll get to come live here until the next auction takes place,” Madison interjected sarcastically. “Goody!” Madison returned her gaze to the floor.

“Thank you for sharing, Madison,” Priya replied thoughtfully. 

“Oh, my pleasure. I mean, who wouldn’t want to relive shit like that in front of an audience?” Madison answered sarcastically. “I feel loads better now. Thanks for calling on me.”

“Traumatic events can be painful to relive, but suppressing that pain tends to do far more harm. I’ve always likened it to refusing to treat an infected wound,” Priya explained before turning her gaze toward a woman seated on the other side of Tasha. “Brielle, do you feel comfortable sharing how you’ve coped with your owner’s mistreatment?”

The confused looking brunette replied, “Mistreatment?”

Priya looked through her papers and replied, “I read that you came to reside here after similar circumstances. Your owner nearly suffocated you by… improper use of a deprivation hood?”

“Oh that,” the woman laughed. “No, love. That’s called asphyxiation. And he only covered my airways because I ordered him to.”

“Your oxygen levels reached… 32 percent,” Priya countered, glancing down at her paperwork. “You’re telling me that you signed off on that?”

“I am and I did.” Brielle replied bluntly. “And I said the same thing to the meatheads who barged into our room that night. But they weren’t in a mood to reassess the situation. Not when there are profits to be made by tossing us into prison.”

“That’s actually a common misconception, I’m afraid,” Priya replied, removing her glasses. “There are no monetary advantages to admitting anyone into the kennel.”

“Hush, bitch,” Brielle countered, prompting an uncomfortable silence to fall on the room. “I was a staff-member here for two years before I enlisted as a contestant. I know exactly what this place is and how it operates. It’s a for-profit prison. Every arrest accredits the arresting officers an additional 3% of his weekly salary.”

“And if you were saying this a year ago, you would be 100% accurate,” Countered Priya respectfully. “But one of my first initiatives when I began working here was to eliminate incarceration incentives. Nobody earns a cent more or less than their contracted fee following an arrest or conviction.”

Our eyes spun back over to Brielle who replied, “Well, it might be worthwhile to make sure that the arresting officers are aware of that.”

“They heard it from me personally on their first day of orientation,” Priya replied with a smile. Recognizing her loss in their exchange, Brielle shrugged and looked away.

“I understand the distrust that many of you feel,” Priya continued in a soft voice. “I’m not going to patronize you by telling you that everyone who works here wants the best for you. You’re smart enough to know that this isn’t true. I’m here because I believe in mental health. I know how critical it is to counterbalance trauma and pain with counsel and open communication. While I cannot force anyone here to participate in discussion, I strongly encourage each of you to keep an open mind. This is as beneficial as you want it to be.”

Another uneasy silence fell across the room as we all waited for the next person to speak. 

“My owner got in a bar fight,” the pixie-cut blonde to my left chimed in. “So, we’re both serving 24 hours.”

“Mine tried to blackmail our waitress into spending the night with us,” said a hispanic girl across from me. “Also 24 hours.”

“Mine got arrested for trying to hack into his private email,” said a dark-haired girl with freckles. “Which got us a full week.”

“And how about you, Tasha?” Priya asked.

Tasha paused before muttering “Ask her,” as she nodded toward me.

“Katie?” Priya answered.

“Ugh, it’s kind of a long story,” I deflected, hearing my voice quiver slightly.

“Well if you’re comfortable sharing, we’d love to hear it,” Priya replied with a reassuring smile.

“Uh, well- Tasha and I have the same owner and he uh- poisoned me,” I answered. I heard a gasp from across the room. “Not intentionally,” I clarified. “Or at least I don’t think he did. Um- I’m extremely allergic to peaches and he fed me toast with peach jam. So, I went into anaphylactic shock and was rushed to the emergency clinic. It was actually touch and go for a while.”

“I’m sorry,” Priya said. “That must have been really scary.”

I nodded, looking uncomfortably at the floor. “I… thought I was gonna die.”

“But you made it,” Priya said softly. “I’m sure it must feel pretty unfair to have to recover from an incident like that in a place like this.”

“Um, I actually didn’t come here after that,” I replied, unsure of how detailed I wanted to make this part of the story. “A… friend… was able to get temporary custody so I wouldn’t have to stay here.”

Priya glanced down at her notes and turned a page. “I don’t think I realized that,“ she replied. “So, how did you end up back in the kennel?”

“Um…” I replied. “I…” I suddenly felt the familiar lump return to my throat. The last thing I wanted was to relive my drama with Jodie. Not after having spent most of the night sobbing over it. I shook my head as I quickly searched for a lie that I could replace my story with. “After I left the emergency clinic, I… My voice was now shaky and was barely louder than a whisper.

“She missed me so much that she begged to come back,” Tasha suddenly interjected, having evidently picked up on my emotional distress. “Nothin’ soothes the soul like a bit of dark chocolate. Ain’t that right, K?” My tear-glossed eyes flicked over to Tasha and I gave a weak smile and nod. I was extremely grateful that she stepped in to save me from sharing anymore. I really was an emotional wreck and didn’t wish to open the floodgates again.

“Anything else you’d like to share, Katie?” Priya asked, to which I shook my head.

“So, why are you here, doc?” Tasha asked Priya, suddenly shifting gears.

“Excuse me?” Priya replied, clearly taken aback.

“Well, since we’re all spilling the beans, I’m curious to know how a clinical psychologist such as yourself ended up in a place like this leading group therapy.”

“I think this time would be better spent hearing from each of you,” Priya replied.

“Nah, we’re good, right ladies?” Tasha replied flippantly as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “You’ve got all our files and I’m guessing our stories pretty much line up with each other’s. Asshole owner did something irresponsible, illegal, or unethical which landed us in here. Cases closed. The only person in this little sisterhood we don’t know anything about yet… is you.” Yet another uncomfortable silence fell across the room. “So, let’s hear it. What’s Dr. Priya Puri’s story?”

Just then, the door slid open and a guard entered briskly.

“Um, excuse me,” Priya said, uncrossing her legs. “We’re in the middle of a session.”

“I’m here to fetch Katie Huff,” the guard replied. With the exception of Priya, all eyes in the room turned to me.

“And you’ll be free to collect her so once our session is complete,” Priya retorted curtly. 

“Sorry, ma’am,” the guard replied. “I was ordered to move her immediately.”

“Where and for what purpose?” Priya challenged.

“She’s being discharged, ma’am,” the guard replied. My heart did a somersault in my chest. As relieved as I was to be leaving this place, I was clueless as to why.

That was fast,” chimed Tasha.

“Into the custody of whom?” Priya asked, reading my mind. The most obvious choice was Jodie, but at a place like the Kingdom, I knew better than to expect or hope for the obvious.

“I’m not aware, ma’am,” the guard replied.

Priya’s lips pursed as the guard clipped the leash he was holding into my collar. As he pulled me to my feet, Priya forced a smile and said, “Well, Katie, it was a pleasure to meet you. I wish you the very best of luck.”

“Thanks,” I answered. As I turned to follow the guard out of the room, my eyes met Tasha’s.

“Don’t give her a free pass,” Tasha said in a low voice, clearly referring to Jodie.

I gave a weak nod and whispered, “Bye, Tasha.” She gave a small wink before I stepped past her.

As I followed the guard out of the room, I started to feel a flood of conflicting emotions wash over me. On one hand, I was obviously relieved to be leaving this place. But I honestly wasn’t sure how I was supposed to feel about leaving with Jodie. I couldn’t ever remember feeling more betrayed and confused. Moving back in with her and returning to life as normal didn’t even seem possible after what happened the night prior…

I also felt guilty about leaving Tasha in here alone. Frankly, she had been kind to me when I was at my lowest. We were vastly different in every way but kindred by our circumstances. And as bad as my circumstances may have been, hers seemed far worse. After what she told me about all she’d been subjected to both in and out of the kennel, she definitely could have used the early release more than me.

Following the guard around the bend in the hallway, I recognized the large double-doors ahead as the exit into the kennel’s main lobby. Unsure of what lied ahead, each step I took felt heavier than the one before it.

As we stepped up to the doors, they opened automatically for us. I squinted as natural sunlight poured through the doors. But as soon as my eyes adjusted, my heart-rate spiked at the sight of Jodie standing by the front desk. She was joined by Annabelle who was facing away from me. Seeing the two of them together was a bit surreal. The last time I’d seen them together, Annabelle was standing proudly over a Jodie who was bound and gagged on the extractor machine. Not to mention, last night, Jodie was convinced that Annabelle and I had somehow conspired against her. That I was acting as her spy or something. Time seemed to stand still as Jodie and I made eye contact. Like mine must have looked, Jodie’s face appeared abnormally pale and sleep-deprived. Her expression was one of concern and remorse.

“Ah, here’s our little runaway,” Annabelle said gleefully as she turned to face me. Jodie said nothing but gave a nervous smile. “Miss O’Connell tells me that you flew the coop yesterday.”

I opened my mouth but said nothing as I looked in confusion from Annabelle to Jodie. Jodie’s eyes opened wider than usual as she gave the smallest of nods, clearly trying to signal me to agree. But why? Why was she wanting me to admit to running away? Wouldn’t that land me in even deeper trouble? Unclear of how exactly I was supposed to react, and with my trust in Jodie still shaken, I said nothing and looked down at the floor.

“After all the strings I had to pull, I’m surprised at you two,” Annabelle continued, studying my face. “You seemed like such a cute couple. What could have prompted you to run?”

Still dumbstruck as to what was happening, I said nothing as the guard handed the end of my leash over to Annabelle.

“Mistakes were made,” Jodie said dismissively, breaking her silence. “We’ll sort them out.”

“I’m sure you will,” Annabelle replied with a fake grin as she turned back to Jodie. “Because this is definitively the last favor that I’ll be extending to either of you. I’m afraid the Jodie O’Connell chronicles have taken quite enough of my precious time.” Annabelle turned her body to face me. Following a harsh yank to my leash, I felt compelled to look up into her eyes. “Katie Huff, do you agree to place yourself into the temporary custody of Miss O’Connell for the remaining four days of your kennel sentence?”

With so many unanswered questions swirling in my head, I simply stared at her with my mouth hanging open.

“Verbal consent is required before you can be discharged,” Annabelle pressed. “A simple yes will do.”

“What about Tasha?” I blurted out, surprising even myself with my boldness.

Annabelle blinked, clearly taken off-guard by my question. “Who?” she asked.

“Uh, my- my cellmate, Tasha Quincy,” I replied. “She’s Tom Murphy’s other slave.”

“And?” Annabelle asked, her patience clearly growing thin.

“And… I’m wondering if- she can be discharged as well.” I asked, prompting a long pause. “Into Jodie’s custody, that is.” In my peripheral, I could see Jodie signaling her disapproval by shaking her head no.”

Annabelle turned in disbelief to Jodie and then back at me. “Are you seriously asking me for another favor?” She asked. “Literally six seconds after I told you that I was finished with favors?”

Sensing that my luck was running dangerously thin, I spoke as quickly as I could. “She’s been horribly mistreated and I just- I think she could really use a-” 

“Miss Huff,” Annabelle interrupted. “If the next word out of your mouth is not an answer to my yes-no question, I will drag you myself back into the hole I sprang you from.” Annabelle threatened. “Yes or no, Miss Huff. Do you agree to place yourself into the temporary custody of Miss O’Connell?” My eyes glanced nervously from Annabelle to Jodie.

“Katie,” Jodie pleaded. “Say yes.” Her eyes seemed desperate. “Please.”

Feeling my eyes well up with tears, I froze. Even without fully understanding the events of the night prior, I could tell that Jodie regretted her actions. This was clearly an attempt to fix things and make amends. And given how she felt about Annabelle, it couldn’t have been easy to grovel to her for help in this instance. But as much as I appreciated the effort, I couldn’t stop thinking about Tasha. Letting her stay here by herself to take on the full oral responsibilities for that racist asshole seemed unconscionable. She said herself that she was relieved that I would help lighten her load…

“I… can’t,” I whispered, more to Jodie than to Annabelle. “I can’t leave her this way. She needs help.” Jodie stared back, clearly at a loss for words. “You would do the same for me.”

“Say goodbye, Miss Huff,” Annabelle said as she suddenly yanked my leash away from Jodie.

Jodie grabbed Annabelle’s arm, stopping her in her tracks, “How much?” Jodie blurted out. “How much do you want in exchange for giving me temporary custody of Tasha as well? I’ll pay whatever you want.”

“Remove your hand, Miss O’Connell,” Annabelle warned in a menacing voice. Jodie released her arm and dropped it. “Tasha is not eligible for temporary custody,” Annabelle replied flatly, turning and walking briskly back toward the door we came from, “And neither is Miss Huff anymore, I’m afraid.” 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered to Jodie, trying to hold back tears.

Jodie’s hands lifted up to her head in desperation as she helplessly watched me be pulled back into the bowels of the kennel.

Looking over my shoulder, I maintained my gaze on her until the wide double doors slid closed behind me. I took a deep breath, silently telling myself that I made the right choice. The brave choice. Somehow, it was easier to make knowing that Jodie felt remorse over the events of the night prior. The idea of her not being angry with me somehow made my circumstances more tolerable. 

Rounding the bend, I had to jog slightly to keep up with Annabelle’s brisk pace. Even in high heels, she was quite a fast walker. Moments later, we reached the room where we were having group therapy. Stopping in front of the door, Annabelle held out her hand to the security guard standing next to the door.

“I need an extra leash,” Annabelle said to him abruptly.

“Yes, ma’am,” the guard replied as he quickly unclipped a leather leash from his belt and handed it to her. Annabelle then lifted her key card up to the locking mechanism on the wall, prompting the door to slide open.

Annabelle walked quickly into the room, pulling me behind her. “Tasha Quincy,” she announced, prompting everyone in the room to turn in our direction. 

“Yes?” Tasha replied tentatively.

“Come with me, please,” Annabelle replied, prompting Tasha to stand to her feet.

“Excuse me, we’re in the middle of a session,” Priya responded defensively. 

“Miss Quincy will take a raincheck,” Annabelle said dryly as she stepped forward and clipped the end of the leash to Tasha’s collar.

Priya stood to her feet. “Our session ends in half an hour,” she said defiantly. “After the group is dismissed, she’ll be free to go wherever you’d like.”

“I’m afraid there are matters of greater urgency,” Annabelle replied in a definitive tone.

Priya crossed to Annabelle, stopping mere inches in front of her. “Whatever it is can wait,” she clapped back. A chilling silence filled the room as the two women stared at each other. “You can’t barge in here and cancel a physician-mandated therapy session,” Priya continued. “These are my patients and you are directly interfering with their care. Not to mention violating doctor-patient privileges.”

“Actually, they’re not your patients,” Annabelle countered, crossing her arms. “And even if they were, we’re in South Carolina, sweetheart. The state doesn’t legally recognize physician-patient testimonial privileges.”

“Seriously?” The woman named Madison chimed in from across the room.

“Write your congressman,” Annabelle retorted dryly without looking away from Priya.

“These women have been through hell and they need an opportunity to cope and recover,” Priya argued in a low voice.

Annabelle snorted dismissively. “I think they’ll manage.”

“That’s not your call to make!” Priya answered in a raised voice. “You know what- a moment outside, please.” Priya replied before storming toward the exit and opening the door with her key card. Reluctantly, Annabelle dropped Tasha’s and my leashes and followed her into the hallway.

Stepping over to me, Tasha asked, “What the hell is all this about?”

“I’m honestly not sure,” I replied.

“Why are you even still here?” Tasha asked.

“I uh- chose to stay behind,” I answered sheepishly.

“Huh?” Tasha asked in disbelief. “Why in fuck’s name would you do a thing like that?”

“I-” I paused to glance around the room. All eyes were on me and I could feel my face turning red, “I didn’t want you to have to deal with Murphy on your own.” Tasha simply stared at me with her jaw open. “You shouldn’t have to handle… that… all by yourself.”

Tasha gave a long pause, studying my face. “Let me get this straight,” she replied slowly. “You gave up early release… so you could stay behind and relieve me from full-time oral duty?” I nodded, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “Wow,” Tasha said as a smile spread across her face. “I’m… I’m not sure what to say.”

“I tried to convince Annabelle to let you join me in Jodie’s custody, but you know Annabelle. She wouldn’t-” All of the sudden, I was unexpectedly cut short by Tasha’s lips pressing against mine. My eyes shot wide open in surprise as her lips caressed mine. To my even greater surprise, I found myself unwilling to stop her. To the contrary, I reflexively returned her kiss, closing my eyes slowly as the moment unfolded. A whistle could be heard from one of the women who were watching. I honestly wasn’t sure if my participation was out of attraction or if I was just emotionally vulnerable. But whatever the reason- it was nice.

Once the kiss ended, Tasha took a step back and stared into my eyes. “Was that okay?” she asked.

“Mm-hmm,” I replied with an embarrassed smile. Just then, the door slid back open, prompting Tasha to step away from me. Annabelle entered the room, followed by Priya.

“James Mason will hear about this,” Priya’s voice said loudly. Even as a former employee of the Kingdom, I had no idea who she was talking about. I’d never even heard the name before.

“Oh please,” Annabelle retorted through laughter. “Mason couldn’t give a fuck about what happens in this shit-hole.” Annabelle walked briskly over to Tasha and me and grabbed the ends of our leashes. “But if it makes you feel better, go ahead.” A yank on our leashes prompted us both to step closer to Annabelle as she moved toward the exit.

“Have a nice break, ladies,” Annabelle cooed as we exited the room. She turned the opposite way from the lobby and led us down the long fluorescent hallway.

“Soooo, what’s going on?” Tasha asked. “We win the weekend at the spa or something?”

“Or something,” Annabelle cooed with a sadistic grin. "The two of you will be spending the next couple of hours testing some equipment for me,” Annabelle mused.

“More machines,” Tasha muttered under her breath. 

“What kind of equipment?” I asked.

“The punishy kind,” Annabelle replied in a sultry voice.

We walked for another minute or so before reaching a pair of large swinging doors marked with the word “MAINTENANCE”. Annabelle pushed the doors open and we stepped through quickly to avoid being hit by the doors as they swung closed. Inside was a massive warehouse-like room with machinery scattered across multiple work-tables. The air smelled of engine oil and burnt rubber. There looked to be about a dozen male mechanics hard at work tweaking and repairing the equipment.

Tasha and I followed Annabelle as she marched confidently up the far corner of the room that was walled off by plexiglass sheets. Inside the cube-like contained space was a burly mechanic who was welding what looked like a human-sized metal hamster wheel. Annabelle rapped on the plexiglass, prompting the man to put out his blow-torch and turn to face us.

After raising his welding helmet above his face, he smiled and said, “Well hey there, lady.”

“Myron, dear,” Annabelle said loudly as to be heard through the plexiglass. “The wheel looks as good as new.”

“Glad you like it,” the man called Myron replied. “Just finishing up now, actually.”

“I should’ve known you’d finish ahead of schedule,” Annabelle replied, as she stepped through the transparent plastic flaps that hung over the entryway to the plexiglass enclosure. “Myron’s simply the best,” she said to us as we followed her inside. “He can literally fix anything.”

“So, where would you like’er dropped off?” Myron asked, leaning against the giant metal wheel.

“Oh, probably back to E block lounge,” Annabelle said as she admired the structure. “I’ll let you know for sure before the end of the day.”

“Sounds good,” Myron replied, scanning Tasha and me pervily. “Wanna have one of these two give her a test run?”

“Oh, I wish they could,” Annabelle laughed. “But I’m afraid I have something else in store for them. Would it be possible for us to have the fishbowl for the next couple of hours?” I gulped nervously at hearing the word hours.

“Yeah, I can be cleared out of here in a few minutes,” Myron replied as he pulled off his work gloves.

“He really is the best,” Annabelle reiterated to us, prompting Tasha to roll her eyes discreetly.

“Just so long as you’re okay with the dip in productivity around,” Myron added. “These guys tend to drag their feet when there’s a live show playing in the corner.”

“Oh, I’m not concerned,” Annabelle replied dismissively. “They work hard. They deserve some entertainment.”

While Annabelle spoke, Myron unlatched the closest plexiglass sheet from the cement wall that ran perpendicular to it. Grabbing a hold of its edge, he proceeded to walk toward the other side of the enclosure, causing plexiglass segments to accordion together. Once there was an opening wide enough for the giant metal wheel to fit through, he stopped and called out, “Pat and Reji! Come move this thing will ya?” Two nearby men dutifully stopped what they were doing and walked over. “So, what’s on the menu for these two?” Myron asked, nodding toward Tasha and me.

“I was thinking of giving them a nice long workout on Armstrong trainer. A little bird told me the repairs were completed,” Annabelle said as the two men stepped inside the enclosure and proceeded to push the wheel away on a rolling platform.

“Indeed they were,” Myron remarked with a smile. “Kyle!” He shouted suddenly through cupped hands. “Bring over the Armstrong, will ya?! Bill- help him out!” At his direction, a burly man standing by the entrance of the room hopped onto a nearby forklift while another crossed toward a large object covered with tarp. “I replaced the old axles with galvanized steel rods so they won’t corrode again,” Myron added. “They shouldn’t give you anymore trouble.”

“Excellent,” purred Annabelle.

A minute later, the forklift drove into the plexiglass enclosure and lowered the large covered pallet in front of us. As soon as it touched down, one of the men pulled off the tarp, revealing the object referred to as the Armstrong trainer. At first, I thought it was a stationary tandem bicycle. But upon closer inspection, its sinister modifications became evident. Most obviously, there didn’t appear to be a front end to the bike. The handlebars had been removed and the old-fashioned banana-saddle seats were both facing inward toward each other. And by seat, what I really mean was a narrow metal bar that housed an upward-facing dildo and butt-plug. I winced as imagined the level of discomfort this would impose.

Next, my eyes traveled to the wheels, where the tires should have been. Instead, protruding from the metal rims were two leather flaps positioned at 12 and 6 o’clock. Between the device’s name as well as the wheels proximity to the phallus-equipped “seats”, I deduced that a thorough spanking was in our immediate futures. 

Extending outward on both sides of each wheel’s center were trick-bike-style pegs. Each pair of pegs had been soldered to a hefty banana seat rail frame that extended upward roughly four feet into the air. At the top of each rail frame hung two cords. Dangling from the end of the shorter cord was a pair of black leather bondage mittens and from the longer one hung a leather trainer ring-gag.

Unlike a normal vintage bicycle, the vertical bars of the banana seat rail frame extended roughly four feet beneath each wheel’s axle and were soldered to the stainless steel base below. This effectively held the entire bicycle contraption stationary roughly two feet above the ground. The last identifiable feature was the outward-facing iPad mounted atop a podium at the contraption’s center.

Annabelle stepped forward to inspect the contraption. “Hello, old friend,” she mused softly as she gave the nearest wheel a spin. The protruding leather flaps make a clapping noise as they struck the adjacent seat with each revolution. “It feels like only yesterday that I was writing this puppy’s code. It was at the 2010 opening of The Kingdom in Singapore. The Armstrong trainer was one of the machines that we decided to feature at the opening night showcase.” As Annabelle spoke, she walked slowly around the contraption, pausing to admire each of its many elements. “The first two riders were sisters. Both were office holders at The Kingdom who volunteered themselves as a show of solidarity to the worker bees beneath them. Their workout lasted for several hours and was performed on stage behind live musicians. It was a big hit. I even programmed the RPM requirement to change in real-time to match the tempo of whatever song was playing. Back then, that was pretty damn impressive.”

Having walked in a full circle around the device, Annabelle leaned against frame and turned her gaze back to Tasha and me. “Long story short,” Annabella continued, “-as unlikely as it might have seemed, that particular workout session set those two sisters on a course that would change their relationship moving forward. For the most part, the two of them had always been close. They shared the same interests, same fears, and in many ways, the same mind. They always defended each other from harm and had each other’s back. But that night, something changed… The resentment seeded by Armstrong only festered over time. What started as a small tear between them ripped wider and wider until the two of them ultimately came to see each other as enemies.”

Annabelle’s phone suddenly emitted a loud ding sound. “Ugh, I’m afraid I need to handle a situation,” Annabelle said as she studied her screen. “Boys, would you be dears and get these ladies loaded up for me?” Annabelle asked the two men.

“Yes, ma’am,” both men replied. Annabelle then turned and briskly left the plexiglass enclosure, leaving us alone with the men. Despite the fact that her story felt like a dramatic monologue from a comic book villain, I found myself weighing the motives she might have had for sharing it. Either she was bluffing and merely building suspense for effect, or she was telling the truth and foreshadowing a likely aftermath of spite and resentment between me and Tasha. I silently prayed for the former…

Without hesitation, the burly men began unbuckling our straitjackets and peeling the latex from our bodies. Ignoring the prospect of being forcibly undressed in a warehouse full of sweaty male workers, the cool air felt really nice on my moist skin. What can I say? When a girl is deprived of so much, she finds herself appreciating the little things more and more. 

As soon as the straitjackets were removed, the men pulled us by the leash over to the contraption. The bondage mittens were unclipped from the hanging cord and coaxed over our hands. Once our hands were locked snugly inside, our wrists were pulled behind our backs and secured together with a simple carabiner. Recognizing the futility of resistance, neither of us put up a struggle. Normally, a carabiner would have been easy to unclip, but without the use of our fingers, the mittens might as well have been welded together. 

Next, each of the men reached over to the bars that we were to be seated on. On the underside of the bar was a small lever that I hadn’t seen earlier. Both men grabbed a hold of a lever and began cranking. Without my glasses, it was difficult to see what the effect was. But after a few more cranks, I spotted a whitish substance oozing from the tips of each upright dildo and butt-plug. Lubricant, I thought to myself in relief. Whoever had designed this machine was quite thorough. After a final crank, each phallus was adequately coated with lube to the point where excess dripped onto the steel platform beneath.

I suddenly gasped in surprise as I was swooped into the air without warning by the man who had mittened me. Despite Tasha being a bit heavier than me, she too was easily lifted into the air by her handler. The two men hoisted us over our perspective seats and then lowered us gently onto our phalluses. My eyes shot wide open as the large objects forced their way inside me. Even with the lube, their entry was quite a doozy. I winced in discomfort as my vagina and anus unwillingly accepted their new occupants. The lower I descended, the worse the discomfort became.

Curling my toes and digging my fingernails into my palms, I bit down on my lower lip to prevent myself from screaming as the butt-plug pushed its way inside. Fortunately, the worst of the pain was short lived. Once the bulb of the plug made its way past my sphincter, the pain instantly subsided. After I could descend no further, I exhaled slowly. Having my full weight rest squarely upon my sex was definitely a new sensation. Not painful, per se, but certainly uncomfortable. I also could not ever remember feeling so full! The phalluses hadn’t looked particularly thick, but with both of them invading me simultaneously, I seriously felt like I was going to explode! Come to think of it, this was my very first experience with double penetration. And to be blunt, I did not like it one bit…

Across from me, Tasha’s eyes were closed and her face was relaxed as she was lowered onto her devices. She appeared so undaunted by her circumstances that it almost looked like she was asleep. It was kind of sad to think about how high her pain tolerance must have been after a week with Murphy. After days upon days of being relentlessly abused by these types of machines and devices, this was probably just another walk in the park for her. Maybe even a relief by comparison… Once she was fully seated, she opened her eyes. Upon making eye contact, she gave me an assuring wink. I returned the gesture with a nervous smile as the men secured us to the bars we were seated on with a leather strap that encompassed our upper thighs.

Next, I felt my handler grab my left foot and begin to pull it forward. I relaxed my muscles as he fed my toes inside a rubber sandal that had been riveted to the top of the aluminum pedal. I resisted the urge to growl in pain as I felt the pointy metal tread of the pedal digging into the sole of my tender foot. Once the rubber heel strap had been buckled, my foot was now definitively trapped in place. After the process had been repeated with my right foot, I pressed upward on both pedals in an effort to relieve some of the pressure that had been placed on my sex. Other than causing the pedals’ pointy metal tread to dig deeper into my soles, this accomplished nothing whatsoever. The leather straps that connected my upper thighs to my seat prevented me from rising even a centimeter. I relaxed my leg muscles in defeat and ceded my fate back to gravity.

It was at this point that the trainer gag, hanging from the longer of the two cords suddenly appeared in front of my face. Not wanting to cause trouble for myself, I opened my mouth without my handler even having to ask. As the medium-sized ring was wedged behind my teeth, I instantly realized that this was no ordinary gag. Circling the rim with my tongue, I noticed what felt like a ball-bearing located on the underside of the ring behind my upper front teeth. Upon licking the ball, I suddenly felt a string of water droplets fall into my mouth. I rolled my eyes as I came to the realization that this particular trainer gag had been customized to operate like a water bottle for a hamster. The silicone straps of the trainer gag as well as the cord connected to the top of it obviously contained some sort of feeding tube that led from a water source somewhere inside the bicycle’s frame. While summoning the water was simple enough, swallowing was a bit tricky without the use of my jaw. But after a few seconds, I managed to figure out how to slowly roll my tongue backwards in order to gulp down the small pool that had formed behind my bottom teeth.

I waited patiently as the handler pulled the straps over my face and around my neck and buckled them. I sighed with the all-to-familiar feeling of helplessness as the final strap was secured beneath my chin. Swallowing my pride, I lifted my tongue and licked the ball-bearing again in order to further quench my growing thirst.

Then, our handlers suddenly pulled our restrained mittens upward. I instinctively leaned forward as my hands were pulled higher and higher behind my back. Unable to see behind me, I watched Tasha’s situation to get a better sense for what was happening to me. Once Tasha’s arms were raised to be parallel with the floor, her handler clipped the carabiner that connected her mittens to the bottom of the other cord. I exhaled slowly as I felt my handler do the same to me. Our arms were now locked in inescapable strappados. Instinctively, I leaned forward as much as I could to alleviate the strain that had been placed on my upper back and shoulders.

“Lovely,” Annabelle’s voice cut through the silence as she reentered the plexiglass enclosure. “Thank you, gentlemen. I’ll take it from here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the men replied in unison before exiting the enclosure.

As Annabelle approached us, I could see that she was carrying what looked like two inflatable blood pressure monitors. Wasting no time, Annabelle lifted one of them and began applying it to my left upper arm, just above my elbow. Unable to see behind me, I studied the other monitor that was pinned under Annabelle’s armpit. Upon closer inspection, I realized that this wasn’t a blood pressure monitor at all. Instead, it was a thin neoprene sleeve with velcro at each end. And the protruding cord was not a hand-pump, but rather a thin electrical wire with an auxiliary jack at the end. The sleeve’s most unique feature, however, was the small glass cylindrical vial sewn into the fabric at its center. Inside the vial was what looked to be some sort of silver liquid. 

Once Annabelle had velcroed the band around my arm, she plugged the connected auxiliary cable into a receptacle in my collar. Then, she crossed to Tasha and repeated the process on her arm. While the arm-band accessory appeared to be innocent enough, I couldn’t help but feel instinctively uneasy about it.

Once finished with Tasha, Annabelle stepped up to the podium with the iPad and began to tap at its screen. 

“Okay, ladies,” she said without taking her eyes off the screen. “I hope you slept well last night because the two of you are in for quite a workout.” I gulped as I contemplated how embarrassingly un-athletic I was. I almost never worked out in my private life and I loathed every millisecond that I did. My slim physique was almost exclusively a result of good genes and my vegan diet.

“As impressive as Armstrong is to look at, what’s most unique about him, is his programming,” she continued as she spun the iPad around on its podium to face us. “Say hello, Armstrong.” 

“Hello,” an electronic voice replied. The iPad screen’s layout even vaguely resembled a face, with two speedometers as eyes, a time clock as a nose, and a horizontal bar at the bottom, as an emotionless mouth. 

“As you may have guessed, Armstrong was named after the world-famous cyclist, Lance Armstrong. Before he was revealed to be a miserable cheat, that is. But like the man, this trainer is one of a kind,” Annabelle explained. “While most human trainers employ techniques like positive reinforcement as a motivator, Armstrong gets his results a bit differently. For instance-” 

Annabelle spun the iPad back toward her and tapped the screen. Suddenly, the pedals beneath my feet started moving on their own. I closed my eyes as I adjusted to the unpleasantness of cycling my legs while my orifices were so thoroughly stuffed. Not even a half revolution in, I felt one of the leather flaps that were attached to the wheel spank my exposed butt cheeks. Then another. And another. As the revolutions picked up speed, the spankings became harsher and more frequent. But to my pleasant surprise, the spankings hurt less than I imagined they would. That being said, it would have been naive to assume that the sensation would not worsen over time.

After about 20 seconds, I felt the pedaling begin to slow down. After everything came to a stop, I un-tensed my muscles and sighed in relief. Even after such a short period of time, my butt cheeks already felt hot and tingly.

“Obviously, you’ll be doing the pedaling on your own, but you get the idea,” Annabelle explained. “Now- you might be wondering why you would intentionally do such a thing if all you’re getting from your hard work is a good spanking. Why not just stop? Well, because that would earn you this.”

Annabelle tapped the screen and I suddenly felt a series of powerful electrical shocks to the soles of my feet. The shocks were so powerful that they almost felt like what I imagined a taser gun would feel like. Both Tasha and I yelped in simultaneous pain. A second later, the electricity ceased, prompting an audible sigh from the both of us. It was safe to say that however uncomfortable the spankings were, having our feet electrocuted in this way was much worse.

“Armstrong will inform you how many RPM, or revolutions per minute, you must be pedaling and he will move the target at random. Dip beneath that mark and your feet will be shocked,” Annabelle continued. “Which brings us to the final element. The armband that each of you is wearing is equipped with a mercury switch. Instead of explaining how it works, I’ll just show you.” 

Annabelle tapped on the screen and I closed my eyes, bracing for the next torturous sensation. To my pleasant surprise, however, the hanging cords connected to our mittens began to slacken, allowing for our arms to lower from their uncomfortable strappado. I let out a sigh of relief as my hands slowly descended toward my butt. But my sigh instantly turned into a shriek of pain as my butt-plug and dildo suddenly began pulsing with electricity. Short jolts of hot pain coursed through my private parts at alternating tempos, prompting me to twitch like a possessed person. While the electricity did not feel quite as strong as the assault I’d experienced on my feet, it was still incredibly painful. Across from me, Tasha threw her head back and let out a labored groan. Glancing back and forth from Annabelle to Tasha, I frantically attempted to understand how to make this new torture stop.

“Smarts, huh?” Annabelle chuckled. “The only way to stop it is to keep your arms raised high enough to prevent the mercury in the vial from sliding toward your hands.”

Tasha and I immediately leaned forward as far as we could in order to raise our arms back up. This was much tougher than it sounded. We were essentially straining against gravity to lift our arms behind our backs into a position that was at odds with human anatomy. If I hadn’t been wearing bondage mittens, I would have tried to grab ahold of the cord and climb my way back up with my fingers. But without the use of our hands, we could only rely on our back and arm muscles. As I mentioned before, athleticism and endurance were not particular strengths of mine. While a bit of willpower helped me raise my arms back up to 90 degrees, I knew that it was only a matter of time before I’d ultimately lose this fight. Once I was above the threshold, I dug my fingernails into my palms and tried to hold my position.

“Armstrong may also choose to complicate matters by doing something like this,” Annabelle tapped the screen again prompting the cord that was connected to the top of our trainer gags to retract. This caused my head to be pulled backward, forcing me to sit further upright. I gave a labored groan as this adjustment made the task of maintaining my arm position even harder. After only a few seconds, I was already starting to feel my resolve weaken.

“And to matters things even more exciting, I’m swapping your mercury switches,” Annabelle added as she made another series of taps. “So, Miss Huff’s switch will now control the electricity flowing into Miss Quincy’s pussy and and ass and vice versa.”

I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t want to be responsible for Tasha’s pain! It wasn’t a matter of if I would fail to keep my arms raised. It was a matter of when! My eyes darted to Tasha who was now staring solemnly at the ground in front of her, almost as if she knew the torment that she’d inevitably face at my hands. It suddenly occurred to me that Annabelle was not bluffing about the story of the two sisters that she told earlier. It was easy to imagine how hours on this evil machine could cause two allies to resent each other…

“And while all of this is happening, you’ll still be expected to maintain the speed dictated by Armstrong,” Annabelle added gleefully. “Don’t look so worried,” she chuckled as she noticed my eyes widen. “Armstrong typically takes about a half hour to ease into things while he studies you. After that- well, then you should absolutely start worrying.”

Feeling overwhelmed, I looked back to Tasha. I really wished that she would look at me. Now would have been the time I could have really used one of her trademark winks of encouragement. But it never came. Her face remained sullen and her gaze stayed fixated on the floor, almost as if she knew that I was going to let her down. Like I was going to fail. Eventually, I looked away too. I hated this. I hated feeling guilty for something I had no control over. I resented being made to feel bad for something I hadn’t even done yet! Why couldn’t Tasha at least pretend?

“Alright, enough chit-chat. Have a nice workout, ladies,” Annabelle chirped before leaning her head over the iPad and tapping the green start button at the top. I turned my head to avoid her smug face. “And as tough as it gets, always remember- pain is temporary,” she added as she exited the enclosure.

“Starting workout,” an electric voice said through the iPad’s speakers. To my unexpected relief, the cord connected to my trainer gag slackened while the cord clipped to my mittens retracted. This allowed me to lean forward as my arms were pulled back up into their strappado. I sighed in a mixture of frustration and relief. Frustration at the strappado I was being forced back into, but relief from finally being able to relax my arms and back again. 

“Commencing warm-up sequence for 5 minutes,” the voice said. “Speed requirements must be met within ten seconds of dictation.” Suddenly, a countdown clock reading 5:10 appeared at the center of the screen. “To avoid discomfort, increase speed to 60 RPM.”. Tasha and I immediately started pedaling fast, prompting our wheels to spin and our speedometer needles to climb. I exhaled slowly as I felt the sting of the pointy metal tread digging into the soles of my feet as well as the leather flaps harshly spanking my butt cheeks with increasing frequency.

But out of the clear blue, I felt a sharp zap to my vagina and anus, prompting me to squeal in pain. Based on Tasha’s subsequent yelp, it was evident that she felt the same thing. 

“I did not hear a reply,” the electronic voice added. “I require verbal responses to all dictates. Acceptable responses include yes sir and thank you sir.”

Seriously? I thought, trying to balance my disbelief with my determination to quickly reach 60 RPM. “Yesh, sheh,” Tasha and I begrudgingly answered in unison through our ring gags.

A moment later, my RPM needle hit 65, comfortably surpassing my 60 RPM goal. But my privates were suddenly dealt with yet another painful pair of zaps. Once again, I let out a loud squeal. What the hell?!

“I did not hear a response,” Armstrong’s robotic voice replied matter-of-factly. “Please acknowledge dictation.”

Yesh, sheh!” Tasha and I both yelled.

“Confirmed,” Armstrong replied. This exchange was met with the sound of laughter to my right. I turned my head to see a group of smiling men standing on the other side of the plexiglass wall enjoying our predicament. I felt my face turn red with embarrassment and frustration. If our situation hadn’t already been humiliating enough, having to address the iPad a superior definitely did the trick.

The sad truth of the matter was that the iPad was our superior. No matter how distasteful it might have been to admit, a computer program now had full control over our bodies and private parts. There was no longer a human being holding the whip. Annabelle had placed us fully in the care of a 12.5” inch touch screen. It was torture on a physical and psychological level.

As I watched the stop-clock countdown, I found myself willing the seconds to pass slower. After the first four minutes, the “warm-up sequence” had proven to be quite tolerable. Even as my butt grew more and more tender and my breathing became increasingly labored, I knew that this was probably going to be the best I would feel for the next several hours. 

Tasha’s gaze remained fixated at the floor with an occasional glance up to the iPad to make sure that she was maintaining her speed. With each passing second, I found myself getting more annoyed with her. She was clearly in a funk and I couldn’t help but take it personally. After I had chosen to stay in the kennel for her benefit, I felt like a bit of solidarity on her part wasn’t too much to ask for.

But as I stewed, my mind traveled back to the sisters that Annabelle had told us about. Suddenly, the story seemed more realistic than ever. Here we were, less than five minutes into this mess, and I was already starting harbor feelings of resentment toward Tasha. And in all likelihood, she was feeling similar sentiments toward me as well. I didn’t know whether Annabelle’s story was true or not, but right then and there, I decided to make sure that our story was going to end differently.

Hey,” I said to Tasha, prompting her to look at me for the first time since the workout began. “I’ng glad hor hith he.” I saw her eyes soften a bit. “I’ng gonna try hy hardisht,” I added.

Behind her ring-gag, I saw a smile spread across her face. “I doh oo hill,” she answered with a small reassuring wink. “Oo got dish.” And that was all I needed. As pathetic as it sounds, that small moment of encouragement gave the the mental boost I was looking for. I could actually feel my fear shrink away. I wasn’t naive enough to believe that I could erase Tasha’s concerns, but perhaps I could find moments along the way to occasionally distract her from them. Maybe that could be my role over the next several days.

“Warm-up sequence ending in 10 seconds,” Armstrong’s voice interrupted. “To avoid discomfort, increase speed to 80 RPM.”

Yesh, sheh!” Tasha shouted in an overly sarcastic volume and tone.

Yesh, sheh!” I repeated quickly, grateful for the reminder. 

Taking Armstrong’s advice, we both began to pedal faster. Glancing over to the iPad’s screen, I saw the needle climb quickly. To my pleasant surprise, it only took me a few seconds to reach 80 RPM. Already feeling more out of breath, I looked back at Tasha who, to my surprise, was still staring at me. I raised my eyebrows in silent curiosity. Tasha’s eyes suddenly crossed as she curled her tongue into the shape of a clover. I laughed as I tried to curl my own tongue back at her.

I cat do dat hith hy tongue,” I said as I failed to duplicate the clover shape.

Ahl teach oo lateh,” Tasha replied with a seductive wink, making my smile widen.

“Now initiating workout,” Armstrong announced. The stop-clock counting down at the center of the iPad screen reached 00:00 and then began counting up. Just then, I felt my arms begin to descend, indicating that the cord connected to my mittens was being given slack. Eager to spare Tasha pain, I clenched my arm and shoulder muscles to hold my position.

As Annabelle had predicted, the next half-hour went by without too much difficulty. I wouldn’t have called it easy by any means, but I definitely surprised myself by how well I managed to maintain speed and arm position. My body was now slick with sweat and a long trail of drool ran from my neck all the way down to my sex. Every couple of minutes, Armstrong would adjust the RPM requirements and decide whether or not to support our arms. Across from me, Tasha was sweating as well. This, however, was virtually the only visible sign that she was expending any effort whatsoever. Her breathing appeared unnoticeable and at one point, I could have sworn I even heard her humming a song.

“To avoid discomfort, increase speed to 120 RPM,” Armstrong’s voice suddenly said, prompting my eyes to nearly pop out of my head. Did he say 120?!

Ut?!” I shouted in a high pitch. 120 was literally 30 RPM higher than the highest speed we’d been issued so far.

Yesh, sheh,” Tasha replied promptly before beginning to pedal harder.

Yesh, sheh,” I copied her begrudgingly as I increased my own speed as well.

My eyes remained glued to the screen as I willed the needle to climb higher. It took me about six seconds to reach the required speed. After a half-hour of riding this bike, 120 RPM felt like a sprint. Even Tasha appeared to be straining to hit the mark. I couldn’t help but felt bad for her as I watched her larger breasts bounce up and down with each stride. It was times like these that I most appreciated my c-cups.

After several minutes at this speed, the two of us were now panting heavily. Glancing to my right, I could see that the men who had been spectating were no longer present. This may have been due to the fact that the view was now obstructed by the fog that had covered much of the plexiglass. Since the beginning of our workout, the air inside the enclosure had grown uncomfortably hot and sticky.

Over the next 20 minutes or so, Armstrong bounced us back and forth between 120 and 90 RPM. While I was certainly being challenged, and my butt cheeks felt as if they were on fire, I could feel my confidence growing as the minutes passed. Despite my earlier doubts, I was beginning to believe that this workout might actually be achievable for me. But those feelings of optimism vanished the moment that Armstrong instructed us to increase our speed to 135 RPM. And as if this wasn’t bad enough, I simultaneously felt my arms descend as the cord attached to my mittens began to slacken.

Struggling to hold my arms upright, I spun my head pointlessly toward the iPad and shrieked in disapproval. Tasha also emitted a labored groan as she forced herself to pick up speed.

“Irreverence detected,” Armstrong replied. “Increase speed to 140 RPM.”

Are you kidding me?! This was nearly three times the speed that the workout had started out as! Tasha appeared equally perturbed and shook her head in disbelief.

Yesh, sheh,” the both of us said in unison with the same volume, but with less attitude. Within a few seconds of frantic pedaling, our needles had both hit their required marks.

I honestly wasn’t sure how long I was going to last at this speed. Even without having to keep my unsupported arms raised above 90 degrees, 140 RPM was just not sustainable. Biting down hard onto the ring-gag, I forced myself to take one pedal at a time. Instead of thinking about things like minutes or hours, I began counting down from 10 over and over. The thought of lasting through multiple 10-second segments was much more palatable than the thought of lasting through a longer segment of indeterminate length.

After what felt several dozen of those 10-second segments, Armstrong’s voice said, “For the next five minutes, you may choose your own speed.” As he spoke, I felt the cord connected to my mittens retract to lift my arms upward once again. 

Yesh, sheh,” the both of us replied breathily. 

Fighting the urge to sob in sweet relief, I closed my eyes and relaxed all of my muscles simultaneously. I moaned pathetically as I felt the leather flaps land their final spanks across my poor butt. All things considering, I was damn proud of myself. Despite having almost zero confidence in my athleticism, I had managed to make it successfully through the first hour of the workout. I may have felt like I was about to collapse, but I’d made it, nonetheless! And I did it without causing Tasha any pain whatsoever! At least I was pretty sure that I hadn’t. As I took a moment to rest, I proceeded to lick the ball-bearing in my ring-gag to hydrate myself.

Across from me, Tasha groaned as she cracked her neck from side to side. But, instead of stopping altogether like I had, she continued to pedal at a slow pace.

Keet hedaling,” Tasha panted to me, nodding down toward my feet. “Yoo don’t hahnna crant ut.”

I nodded in understanding and obediently resumed pedaling. She was right. By my estimation, we were only about an hour into our workout. The last thing I needed was to start cramping up. As it would turn out, however, there was something else that was even less ideal than muscle cramps…

To Tasha’s and my mutual shock, the plexiglass enclosure suddenly became filled with the loud sound of buzzing. I nearly choked on the water I was in the process of swallowing as the phalluses inside my orifices suddenly began vibrating violently. Across from me, I saw Tasha practically leap out of her skin and clench her eyes shut. Abandoning the advice that she had given to me only moments earlier, Tasha stopped pedaling altogether and sat stagnant. After a few brief seconds of silence, Tasha suddenly entered into a full-blown tantrum. Twisting and writhing in her restraints, she tossed her head in every direction and howled into her gag as if she were being burned at the stake. I winced in empathy as I watched her throw her weight from side to side, seemingly in an effort to break the bike itself. No matter how high her pain tolerance was, this could not have felt good on her vagina and anus.

Though the vibrating phalluses began to take an immediate effect on my body, my main concern in that moment was for Tasha. This was honestly the first time I’d seen her lose her temper. Thinking back to our conversation earlier, I recalled her saying that she had a strong aversion to sexual stimulation by vibration. It was genuinely alarming to see someone who was so traditionally tough and stoic become so visibly distraught. Her one-sided battle with the bike raged for nearly two minutes as she desperately continued trying to stop what was happening to her. 

My thighs were beginning to shake and quiver as an orgasm inched its way closer and closer. Diverting my gaze to the floor, I focused as best I could on staving off my incoming ecstasy. As much as my body may have wanted it, I knew how badly it would affect my strength and motor skills moving forward. Things I would invariably need to complete the workout.

Tasha, on the other hand, appeared ready to gush. She was now panting harder than she had at any point during the workout and was experiencing what looked like tourette-style seizures. But after a valiant effort to resist, it finally happened.

HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!” Tasha screamed, causing spit to fly from her mouth. Not seeing any way that I could help her, physically or emotionally, I merely sat silently with my head bowed toward the floor as she twitched and convulsed violently in unwanted ecstasy. By the time she finished cumming, her toes were nearly white from how hard they’d been digging into the pedal.

Huuuuck yooo!!!” Tasha bellowed toward the iPad as she came off her high. While I couldn’t help but feel concerned about Armstrong’s potential repercussions for such an outburst, I couldn’t blame Tasha. Despite all she’d been through, she’d kept her composure admirably up to this point. But even the toughest women had their breaking point. And for Tasha, that point was clearly the introduction of vibrators.

About 30 seconds later, I too lost the battle of climax hill. Fireworks erupted in my brain as the first wave of orgasms crashed over me. With my eyes rolled back in my head, I moaned as my body trembled uncontrollably. Unlike Tasha, however, my orgasm wasn’t entirely unwelcome. This was the first time since my arrival at the kennel that I had been granted sexual release. And damn it felt good.

I continued twitching for another several seconds as the orgasm slowly subsided. Across from me, Tasha had resumed pedaling, presumably to avoid the cramps that she’d warned me about earlier. Her face now wore a scowl and her body occasionally flinched from the continued stimulation to her privates. Following her lead, I started pedaling again. But after my orgasm, I felt weak as a kitten. I couldn’t have been pedaling faster than 20 RPM and I felt like my leg muscles were about to explode.

“Free cycling ends in one minute,” Armstrong said suddenly. Hearing the computer call this free cycling was downright insulting. Free was literally the antithesis of our circumstances. “Moving forward, you will only have five seconds to reach your designated speed from the moment it is dictated.

Yesh, sheh,” I said, beating Tasha to the punch for the first time.

Yesh, sheh,” Tasha growled resentfully.

Despite the relentless vibrating, I savored the remaining minute of not having to exert my energy. Honestly, if it were up to me, I’d have rather been orgasmed non-stop for the remaining hour than be forced to finish the workout. But to the adverse, I’m sure Tasha would have preferred to bike an additional half marathon if it meant turning off the vibrators.

As the timer on the iPad counted down from 10, Tasha began pedaling faster in preparation for Armstrong’s next speed orders. She leaned forward and shook her head violently from side to side, seemingly in a symbolic effort to stop herself from reaching a second climax. Trusting Tasha’s instincts, I too leaned forward and picked up speed.

As soon as the countdown hit 5 seconds, the vibrators suddenly turned off and Armstrong’s lifeless voice said, “To avoid discomfort, increase speed to 150 RPM.”

The words hit me like a ton of bricks. 150 RPM?! This was 10 faster than any speed we’d pedaled thus far! It was at that moment that I realized that the worst was certainly yet to come. Everything from this point onward was likely going to make what came before it seem mild by comparison. Emitting a pathetic groan, I leaned forward and pedaled as hard as I possibly could. My legs were now considerably less cooperative than they were before my orgasm. I clenched my eyes shut and continued trying to pedal faster.

“Con on!” Tasha suddenly shouted, catching me by surprise. I looked up to see her eyes now staring straight into mine. “Letsh go!” She shouted, nodding toward the iPad as her speedometer reached 155. Mine, however, only read 138. “Yoo got thith!!

Not wanting to let Tasha down, I channelled every ounce of my energy into my legs. But to my despair, it wasn’t enough. A second later, both of my soles were pelted with a rapid series of powerful electric shocks. My natural instinct in that moment was to recoil from where the shocks were coming from. But I knew that this would only prolong my suffering. So, with my eyes clenched shut, I dug deeper and pressed harder into the pedal that electrocuted me. There was something especially twisted about being forced to lean into the pain in order to make it stop it. After a few seconds, to my pleasant surprise, the electricity assaulting my feet suddenly ceased. Opening my eyes, I glanced over at the iPad and saw my speedometer read 151 RPM.

Yesh!” Tasha exclaimed across from me, smiling. “Yesh! Thatsh hy gehl!

Having Tasha cheer me on felt like a shot of adrenaline to my soul. Whether or not Tasha actually believed in my abilities was beside the point. In that moment, my confidence took a giant leap. As did my heart as I contemplated what she meant by ‘my girl’. Flashing back a smile, I leaned forward and pedaled harder yet.

Yesh!!” Tasha bellowed a few seconds later, prompting me to glance back over to the iPad. My speed now read 156 RPM. “Get et!” Her positivity was single-handedly getting me through this workout. I couldn’t help but wonder if she made her living in real life as a physical trainer.

After another minute, Armstrong’s voice said, “You may reduce your speed to 120 RPM.” I let out a loud sigh and seized the opportunity to slow my roll. The both of us were so sweaty at this point that we looked like we had jumped into the lake. Keeping my eyes fixed on the iPad, I lowered my speed as slow as I could without dipping below the 120 mark. Once I’d familiarized myself with my new rhythm, I proceeded to lick the ball-bearing in my ring-gag in order to hydrate myself.

Suddenly to my right, I heard the sound of clapping. Turning my head, I saw Annabelle standing in the entryway to the enclosure.

“Look at you two go!” she said giddily. “Spirits high, objectives thus far met, comradery strong- by all appearances. You should feel proud of yourselves! I’ve been catching the highlights through the security feed,” she explained as she nodded upward to a camera mounted in the corner of the enclosure. “Will ya take a whiff of that,” Annabelle chuckled, inhaling deeply as she passed slowly behind Tasha. “Call me a freak, but I’ve always loved the smell of sweat and sex.” Reaching her hand over, she stroked Tasha’s inner thigh with the back side of her hand. “That orgasm really did a number on you, didn’t it?”

Tasha hesitated before replying “Yesh na’an.”

“You, on the other hand-” Annabelle said as she looked at me. “You looked like you enjoyed every millisecond of your climax. I hope you remembered to thank Armstrong for his generosity.”

Not knowing how to reply, I simply stared back at her and kept pedaling. Clearly not wanting to let the awkwardness pass, Annabelle remained silent and maintained her gaze into my eyes.

Thank yoo?” I replied meekly as I looked over to the iPad.

“Thank you, sir,” Annabelle corrected me.

Thank yoo sheh,” I repeated her.

“Good girl,” Annabelle cooed as she stepped closer to me. “I can see why Miss O’Connell’s so smitten with you.” 

Despite already being flushed from exertion, I felt my cheeks turn hot from embarrassment. This was the first time that my relationship with Jodie had been brought up in front of Tasha. As nice as Tasha’s kiss from earlier had been, it had certainly made things more… complicated. What had begun as a sisterly kinship between inmates had suddenly taken a sharp turn into something more. What specifically that was, I couldn’t say. But it certainly wasn’t nothing

“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to end your workout a bit earlier than expected,” Annabelle said apologetically. Why she seemed to believe that this would be unwelcome news was entirely lost on me. “In order to expedite recovery after his procedure, Mr. Murphy’s doctor would now like to see him ejaculated once every three hours instead of four. Miss Huff, I believe you’re next on the oral schedule. That protein will really come in handy after a workout like this!” 

I looked down as I felt my stomach lurch. Annabelle’s apologetic tone suddenly made more sense.

“So,” Annabelle continued as she spun the iPad around to face away from us, “-I’m reducing your remaining time by one half hour, which leaves you with… 24 more minutes.” She tapped at the screen before adding, “Also, your arms will no longer be supported.”

Suddenly, the cord connected to my mittens began to slacken, permitting my arms to descend. Without hesitation, I leaned further forward and clenched my arm muscles in order to hold their position.

“Oh my, that posture isn’t ladylike at all,” Annabelle said before tapping the screen again. Suddenly, the cord connected to the top of my trainer gag began to retract, pulling my torso into a more upright position. I emitted a high pitched squeal as I struggled to keep my arms parallel to the floor. A moment later, the cord’s retraction stopped. Looking to Tasha for encouragement, I could see that she too was struggling. While she was obviously much stronger than I was, her muscular frame almost certainly made her less flexible. 

Now you’re feeling the burn,” Annabelle laughed. “I’m not sure why the posture wasn’t addressed sooner. I’ll tweak Armstrong’s default settings for your next workout.”

Grinning maliciously, Annabelle suddenly reached forward and pressed down on my forearm with her index finger. Not being strong enough to withstand the added weight, my arms dropped like a brick down toward my back, making me shriek in a mixture of shock and protest. Across from me, Tasha’s eyes shot wide open as electrical impulses inevitably pelted her privates.

I could hear Annabelle laughing as I struggled with all of my might to lift my arms back up. Unfortunately, in the midst of my frantic efforts to shimmy my arms back to position, electricity suddenly began pelting the soles of my feet again.

Uuuugh!” I shouted through my ring-gag as I forced myself to pedal harder.

“I’m sorry,” Annabelle laughed as I felt her hand lift up my arms upward. “That was mean of me. Let me help.” A moment later, my arms were back in their 90 degree strappado position and I had regained my required speed of 120 RPM. “I’ll just keep my hand here while I make some adjustments,” Annabelle said in a fake sweet voice as she tapped away again at the iPad screen. I glanced nervously at Tasha who was once again staring stoically at the floor. But just then, Tasha’s expression transitioned from stoic to downright livid as a familiar humming noise filled the enclosure. A squeal of surprise escaped my gagged mouth as the dildo and butt-plug inside of me simultaneously sprang to life. The vibrations weren’t as intense as they were earlier, but they certainly felt strong enough to to make me cum over time.

There we go,” Annabelle concluded with a final tap. Withdrawing her hand that had been supporting my arms, she then reached her other hand out toward Tasha and pressed down on her forearm with an index finger. Glaring at the floor, Tasha growled angrily as she appeared to tense her entire body. Unlike me, however, Tasha’s arms barely budged and remained above parallel to the ground.

“My, you’re a tough one,” Annabelle cooed as she proceeded to apply more pressure to Tasha’s forearm. “Let's see if we can make this a bit more challenging for you.” Annabelle suddenly began glancing around the room as if she were searching for something. After a few seconds, she whispered, “Yahtzee!” and stepped briskly over to the workbench on my left. Moments later, she had retrieved a hefty chain roughly 2 feet in length. I watched in helpless fear as she proceeded to wrap the chain around Tasha’s wrists and clip the end to the carabiner that tethered her mittens. The added weight for Tasha to support looked unbearable!

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGG!!!” Tasha erupted as Annabelle stepped back to admire her addition. Despite the additional weight and the vibrating demons pounding away at her privates, Tasha’s unsupported strappado remained intact. For several seconds, Tasha continued hollering intelligibly at the floor.

“Much better!” Annabelle cheered as she clapped her hands in satisfaction. “Alright, I’ll leave you ladies to it! 21 minutes and counting! Dig deep!” 

Tasha let out another long and miserable shout as Annabelle walked back to the entrance of the enclosure.

“To quote Lance Armstrong, pain is temporary,” she added over her shoulder. “Ciao!” 

And with that, Annabelle took her leave. Answering Tasha’s shouts, I let out a pathetic groan. My arms and legs had never felt so exhausted in my entire life. I seriously felt like every muscle in my body was about to spontaneously combust into flame. Forget being unhealthy. This felt downright dangerous! But as exhausted as I was, Tasha had it way worse. On top of how much she admittedly despised vibrators, she now had to support what looked like an additional 10-15 pounds of weight. My heart literally broke for her as I watched and listened to her scream mindlessly at the floor.

“To avoid discomfort, increase speed to 130 RPM,” Armstrong’s voice suddenly said, prompting Tasha’s shout to turn into a shriek.

It was at that moment that I realized that Annabelle hadn’t spun the iPad back toward us! We were flying blind!

The ihad!” I shouted, prompting Tasha’s head to turn toward it as we both attempted to pick up speed.

Uuuuuuughhhh!!!!” Tasha replied loudly in frustration.

“Irreverence detected,” Armstrong’s voice replied. “Increase speed to 135 RPM.” 

In response, Tasha begrudgingly lowered her shout to a growl.

YESH SHEH, YESH SHEH!!” I shouted quickly as I pedaled as fast as I could, hoping that saying it twice might trick Armstrong into thinking that Tasha had said it too.

To my relief, no repercussions came, indicating that my quick thinking had worked. Doubly to my relief, no electricity came to the soles of my feet, indicating that I had met the 135 RPM threshold. But as nice as that may have been, not being able to see the iPad’s screen anymore was unfathomably irksome. For all I knew, I could have been going 10 RPM faster than I needed to. But running the risk of having my feet shocked for the sake of slowing down a couple RPM was hardly worth it. I decided that it was probably best to just try to plow through at the pace I was going. Closing my eyes, I focused as hard as I could on my tasks, which now included fending off an incoming orgasm.

But after an indeterminate length of time pedaling at 135+ RPM, having my butt ruthlessly spanked, having my vagina and anus relentlessly vibrated, and having to hold up my arms in a strappado, I was officially running on empty. Eventually, I found myself feeling incapable of finishing out the next minute. No matter how strong my will might have been, my body was just no longer able to oblige.

Tasha,” I said softly, holding back tears. Opening her bloodshot eyes to look at me, she watched silently as I shook my head in desperation. In that moment, it was clear that she understood me. As we locked eyes, all the strain and anguish in her face suddenly seemed to vanish.

Tasha,” I repeated, holding back a sob. “I can’t hold hy arnsh anyhor.

After a brief pause, she gave a small nod and replied, “Itsh okay.” Upon seeing tears begin to run down my cheeks, she started to nod more emphatically. “Hey!” she said, raising her voice a bit. “Itsh oh kay,” she repeated with a small smile. “Hut yo arnsh down.”

I was now full-on crying. I knew I had only seconds before I was going to cause Tasha a lot of pain. I despised myself. Tasha was over there holding up an additional 10-15 pounds of weight for my benefit and I was the one throwing in the towel. I wished with all my being that there was a way for me to receive the impending pain instead of her. This wasn’t fair! 

I’ng sho shahwy, Tasha,” I said, half-sobbing.

Don’t hake he kick yo ash,” she said with a reassuring grin. “Ah’ll he hine. Do it.

I took one last deep breath before closing my eyes and allowing gravity to accept my arms. 

But at that moment, something miraculous happened. Something that seemed practically straight out of a cheesy episode from the original Star Trek. Everything stopped. The humming, the vibrations, everything. 

“Workout complete,” Armstrong’s voice suddenly blurted out, prompting me to open my eyes. “Total cycle time- one hour and 25 minutes. Beginning cool down sequence. You may reduce speed to 60 RPM.”

Panting heavily, Tasha and I looked over to the back of the iPad and then to each other. As if on cue, the both of us suddenly let out a scream of unbridled joy. Not having to be told twice, we both dropped our speed by half and allowed our arms to have a much needed rest.

We continued to hoop and holler and carry on like idiots until our obnoxious victory lap was abruptly cut short by a sharp and painful zap to our privates. Tasha obviously felt the same thing because she too went completely still and silent.

“I did not hear a reply,” the electronic voice added.

At this, the two of us erupted into hysterical laughter. I honestly could not remember ever laughing so hard.

Yesh heh!” the two of us chortled between gasps for air.

We continued giggling for much of the five minute “cool down” and even had difficulty keeping it together as the handlers undid us from the dripping contraption. 

As we were being led by our leashes from the plexiglass enclosure, I couldn’t help but reflect upon the day I had experienced so far. It had begun as perhaps the worst day I could ever recall. But despite finding myself in one of the most horrible circumstances imaginable, it ended up being… not as terrible as one might have expected. Contrasted with Annabelle's dramatic story about the sisters who grew to resent each other over the course of their Armstrong workout, Tasha and I had somehow emerged from it stronger and more connected than we were before.

Once we entered the hallway outside the maintenance room, the two of us were pulled in opposite directions. Me toward my protein date with Murphy, and Tasha toward whatever fresh hell next awaited her. Catching one last glance of Tasha over my shoulder, she crossed her eyes at me and formed her tongue back into the clover shape she’d made earlier. Lacking originality, I simply grinned back at her.

As crazy as it sounded, Annabella was kind of right about one thing. Pain really was temporary. No matter how hard my day had been or what horrors lied ahead in the coming hours, the unpleasantness would eventually pass. And when that inevitably happened, there were now things to look forward to. After all, Tasha had called me her girl


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