A Phone Call
“Thanks for the heads up, Gary,” the Director spoke into the phone. “It won’t alter anything but being informed Psycho Sally was behind her transfer is good to know. I’m aware of Sally’s reputation and what she does for a living. We don’t have any business dealings with her, since she would never agree to the conditions we impose on our female visitors. Anyway, my advice is to tread carefully. You’ve seen for yourself she isn’t someone you’d ever want to cross.”
The Director hung up the phone on his desk. So Darla, the recent arrival, was here through the machinations of Psycho Sally. If nothing else happens today at least I can sleep easier tonight knowing I saved her from a far worse fate by agreeing to her placement at the Center.
The anonymous sponsor must be a cut out, someone returning a favor for Sally by keeping her name out of the transaction. Which implied no one was actually in charge of Darla’s welfare or future, and that was all too typical of how Psycho Sally left her victims. The lack of anyone responsible for her did complicate matters, since as the Director he would have to assume the custodial role for the present.
Now he had two headaches to occupy his time. There was Darla, who had to be shielded for her own safety; and Alisha the reporter, who had to be isolated indefinitely to protect the Center’s anonymity. Somehow, he had to come up with a long-term plan for both of them. Trapped by my own moral code, the Director ruefully shook his head. That code might allow for kidnapping under exigent circumstances but it also imposed a subsequent duty of care he could not ignore with a clear conscience.
Based on his conversation with Mr. G there shouldn’t be any major problems with Darla. He agreed with Gary’s assessment that she would do well after an initial acclimatization period. Long term she still needed someone to oversee her future, though that shouldn’t be a difficult problem to solve.
How very paternalistic of you, he thought, as a few possibilities came to mind. More than once, he’d been criticized for his attitude, but it didn’t bother him. No man could rise to the position he held as the Center’s Director without having the same level of confidence in how he managed the lives of the women placed in his hands.
The other one, Alisha, she was the headache that wouldn’t go away. The operation to seize her had been hastily organized, by necessity. It had been successful; she was no longer a direct threat in exposing the Center, but now he had the unenviable task of figuring out what to do with her. Unlike Psycho Sally he did have to consider the consequences of his actions.
The purpose of the Center was focused on a certain type of woman. He had no idea if Alisha fit the profile. And if she didn’t belong here, then what are my options? Ironically, he could always enlist the services of Psycho Sally, who had the contacts needed when it came to making problems disappear, but a decision like that would haunt him the rest of his days. And the thought of owing Sally a favor sent chills down his spine. He couldn’t protect Darla while consigning Alisha to the same fate. No, there had to be a better way.
The Choices We Make
While Alisha spent her time staring at the cell bars Darla preferred to study her companion in adversity. She was realistic about what had happened to both of them. This place, the Center, was going to be their new home for some time. It wasn’t by choice, for either of them, and there wasn’t much they could do about it. The difference is that Darla was coming to terms with the realities of what had happened, while Alisha continued on with her illusions.
Alisha stood up and began pacing back and forth, in front of the bars. It wasn’t long before it began to irritate Darla. “You’re acting like one of those caged animals in a zoo, constantly looking for a way out. All you’re going to accomplish is wear a rut into the floor.”
Alisha did stop pacing, but didn’t sit back down. Instead, she grabbed hold of the bars, trying to see what was in the corridor. Walls extending out beyond the bars blocked the view of the corridor to either side. “I’m not going to sit and wait like a good little girl. They’re not going to get away with doing this to us.” Alisha jerked on the locked door to their cell. It didn’t budge.
“I don’t think we’re allowed to touch the bars. Could you stop? I’m worried we’ll both get into trouble if you keep that up.” The rules at Mr. G’s place had been explicit about such things. Darla rightly suspected the Center would have far more rigorous regulations in place, and from what she’d seen in the last few hours the guards—no, Wardens they were called— the Wardens didn’t impress her as particularly lenient, compassionate or sympathetic. There must be cameras watching them, even if she couldn’t spot them. If Alisha kept up her stubborn attitude there was a good chance both of them would pay the price.
“Stop?” Alisha asked. “Why? I didn’t hear anyone say this,” she shook the bars again, “was off limits. Anyway, it won’t open, so what difference does it make?”
Darla shook her head, giving up on persuading Alisha of the folly of her ways. “No one said you could touch the bars either. In a situation like this I think we’re better off asking first, rather than begging for forgiveness afterwards. We don’t have many options available to us at the moment. At least consider cooperation instead of confrontation, for both our sakes.”
Alisha turned around to face Darla. “Options?” She wrapped her hands around the collar on her neck and strained to pull it open. It remained in place. “Cooperation? No, I’m not going to pretend I’m someone’s pet dog, even if I can’t get this damned thing off. Look, the police know about me. I’m a reporter; I found out about this gang and went undercover to bust it up. Time is on our side. Any minute now the SWAT team will bust down the doors and rescue us.”
Darla felt only sadness at Alisha’s obvious naiveté. She’d already heard Alisha’s story. It was time to burst that bubble. “Can’t you see it? You were set up. The police, the ones you dealt with, they’re in on it. You are right in one sense; the police, some of them, know where you are even if you don’t. Who do you think is behind what happened to you? One little detail you missed though. If they sent you here, what makes you think they’re going to stage a rescue?”
“Sent me here?” Alisha asked in a sarcastic tone. “My editor knows all about this, along with the police. There’s no way everyone is in on it. That’s being paranoid.”
Exasperated at Alisha’s stubborn refusal to accept the self-evident facts she decided to point out the contradictions. “Think carefully. This police inspector, did you actually call the department to check on her credentials? Was it your editor that made the initial contact?”
“My editor has worked with the police for years. Why would I check? The Inspector showed me her badge and ID…” That’s when Alisha saw the first hole in the story. Yes, there was a badge, but that didn’t prove the Inspector had been from Internal Affairs, or for that matter there was even some kind of investigation in progress.
“And think about this amazing coincidence concerning a court order closing your destination while you were supposedly undercover and already on the road? Since when did a judge not allow for time to implement a massive change like that? You didn’t hear the message over the radio. That came from another officer, repeated verbally, and not even paperwork to back it up. For a reporter you sure seem gullible. Everything you describe is based on second hand information, undocumented hearsay, which you accepted at face value.”
Alisha sat down on her bunk. Was she blinded by her own bias, ignoring what now sounded like solid evidence of a conspiracy?
“Wait a minute! I shared everything I found out with my editor. Why didn’t he just reassign me, if he was part of this plot? Why go through some elaborate charade to take me out?”
Darla shook her head again. “Would you have given up if he took you off the story? No, you had to disappear, but in a reasonable way, with no questions asked. Your ‘charade’ has a paper trail with you convicted and sent to prison. I bet your ‘Inspector” actually works in the Records department. There are actual criminal records on file, in case anyone bothers with a cursory check. She would be an expert on forging them. Face it, you fell into their trap. Here you are, and here you stay. Sure, you’re in a prison as planned, but you’re not undercover; it’s not some minimum-security country club, and you’re facing an indeterminate sentence. No one is looking for you”
There was a certain logic to Darla’s explanation, a logical progression that Alisha couldn’t brush aside. Once more she stared at the bars of their cell. Here I am. Darla’s right; I was so eager to be the celebrity that I walked into it blindfolded.
“The choices we make always seem reasonable at the time.” Darla leaned forward, trying to be conciliatory. “We don’t get to wind back the clock and start over. You’re not the only one with regrets. Like you I relied on someone when I should have thought twice. And like you, here I am because of it.”
Once more Darla considered Mr. G and why he’d sent her to this place. She’d trusted him to let her go at the end of her stay. Why had he singled her out? She’d met many of his visitors, who all spoke in glowing terms of Mr. G’s reliability. None of them had been kept on, against their will. Except I’d never have a chance to meet the ones he didn’t release. And why the cryptic message from Sally when she left? It didn’t make sense.
First Impressions
The Director hit the Pause button for the video feed. “Okay, give me your first impressions, starting with Darla. Bob?”
Robert Kincaid, currently acting as the senior Warden supervising the Secure Area, stared at the display, pondering the contrasts between the two new arrivals. “She’s definitely smart. Did you notice the way she kept studying the walls, the ceiling, looking for cameras? Adaptable too, did you catch the ‘ask first’ argument when she pleaded with Alisha to stop? From what we know of her stay at Mr. G’s place she’s definitely the type who responds positively and enthusiastically to authority. Given time to adjust I think she’ll do well here.”
“Max, what’s your expert opinion?” Dr. Max Lehrer filled the psychologist position on the Center’s review board.
“I agree with Bob. If we take into account she comes to us from Mr. G’s private dungeon, and she signed up for an entire week there at the most intense level, plus her lack of, umm, let’s say animated objection to being brought here, then I’d have to conclude she has a strong inclination to be the follower rather than the leader.”
The Director nodded in agreement. “I came to the same conclusion. However, there is one caveat we need to be concerned with while she’s staying with us. Her presence was triggered by a request from none other than Psycho Sally. You know, one of those offers you can’t refuse. It seems Darla was ordered to participate in some activities for Sally, in a minor role, while at Mr. G’s. She failed to carry out her instructions at a crucial moment and nearly ruined months of work. It was embarrassing for Gary, who had vouched for her.”
“I don’t recognize the name. Who is this ‘Psycho’ Sally?” Bob asked.
It was Max who replied. “No one knows her exact background. From what I’ve heard she might have been a psychiatrist, or maybe a well-trained therapist, at one time. There’s very little she doesn’t know about human behavior. Unfortunately, she is what you might call the ‘Darth Vader’ of the mental health community. It’s generally accepted she is a textbook psychopath, devoid of any compassion or empathy, totally self-centered, and won’t hesitate to inflict harm if it serves her purposes. Even worse, she’s highly intelligent and well-educated. Try to match wits with her and you’ll likely come out the loser.
“She isn’t one of those slasher type psychos so often portrayed in movies. Instead, her career consists mainly of destroying the mental stability of targeted individuals. She is exceptionally good at her job, especially in the way she seems to take a perverse pleasure in the dismantling of her victim’s sanity. Who she works for, well, that’s information we are better off never discovering. There are rumors she’s connected with the less savory intelligence services of several countries not noted for their Human Rights efforts. If Darla fell afoul of Sally, then she’s lucky she’s here instead of a mental ward in some third world hellhole.”
The Director added, “I’ve heard much the same about Sally. There’s a reason her nickname is ‘Psycho’. If you ever happen to meet her, never reveal any personal details, and get away as fast as possible. I actually was introduced to her once. She is a small, petite woman, very cheerful, outgoing, the farmgirl type that reminds you of Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. She can be quite charming in the way she cultivates an image of disarming naiveté. Don’t be deceived; she is ruthless in exploiting that carefully contrived impression. Give her a chance and she can turn your brain into so much hamburger. She is a world class expert at it.”
“Has she ever visited the Center?” Bob asked in a slightly nervous tone.
The Director laughed. “Oh no, we’re quite safe here. She’s aware of our little stipulation about all females and collars, with no exceptions. Sally is the last woman in the world who would agree to a condition like that.”
He backed up the video on the display. “Speaking of collars, you noticed our Alisha doesn’t seem to be too happy about wearing one? We’re holding off on moving forward until we have more information on her background. For now, she’ll be kept in Quarantine along with Darla. I’m imposing an information blackout on them until we have a plan on how to proceed with their training. That means no explanations or answers to their questions until Max has worked up an evaluation. Bob, can you pass that on to everyone in the Secure Area?”
“No problem. About Alisha, I decided to remove my Cathy from any contact. Darla seems to be a good fit for the role in keeping Alisha calm. There’s less chance of a confrontation if either of them discovers Cathy isn’t what she seems to be.” Cathy had been placed in the van used to bring in both Darla and Alisha. She had been disguised as one of the Corrections Officers to disarm any immediate suspicions.
“Sure, Bob. And thanks for lending us Cathy for the transport. Now then, I feel we should start by enforcing the usual minimum standards regarding their behavior and what they can expect in the way of discipline to demonstrate our regulations are followed. This is what I have in mind…”
Lashing Out
When the Warden appeared Darla stood up, as a sign of respect. Alisha remained seated on her bunk. At least she kept her feet on the floor, maybe he’ll be lenient. She isn’t used to obeying men in authority. Hopefully he’ll understand, maybe even talk her through the proper procedure.
From the look on his face that wasn’t going to happen. The frown started with his once over, scrutinizing glance at Darla, morphing into barely restrained anger when he got to Alisha. Darla’s hope for sympathy evaporated, replaced by a sense of dread at what he might do next. Her own experience had taught her that defying dominant men, especially those in a position of power over her, always led to regret afterwards.
Next to him stood a woman Darla had never seen before. Like everyone else she was dressed only in collar and chastity belt, with her hands bound behind her back with handcuffs, and ankle chains that limited walking and prevented any attempt to run. She resembled a statue in the way she kept her place, staring straight ahead, eyes fixed on the wall behind Darla. His hand on her upper arm was all it took to control her.
“This is your orientation guide. You will pay close attention to what she has to say. You are required to follow her instructions to the letter. You will discover she has a wealth of information about the Center and how you can best adapt to life in here. Do not interrupt her lecture. At the end she will take your questions. Keep in mind she is under strict orders as to what she can tell you; if you don’t like an answer, too bad, live with it.”
Alisha stood up and came forward, stopping in front of and to one side of Darla. “Look…” she began.
“Alisha!” Darla hissed. “Shut. Up.” It was all she could do to contain her anger. It worked; Alisha broke off what promised to be a lengthy rant.
Darla turned toward the Warden. “Sir, I apologize for speaking without permission.” It might have been for the best of intentions yet she had broken a rule and must be held to account. In this case it was better to accept the consequences of deliberate disobedience rather than let Alisha continue and make the situation ten times worse.
The Warden stared at Darla but didn’t reprimand her. Maybe they’d both earned a pass for the moment. But whatever the outcome, she had to acknowledge it was solely at his discretion if she was punished.
He chose to ignore her, which was a relief for Darla. He took two steps backward, leading the woman at his side with the hand on her arm. The move left her just beyond arm’s reach through the bars. “You will remain in this spot until I return. You will begin when you hear the outer door close.” Darla noticed the woman had not moved her head. Her eyes remained locked in a forward-looking stare into the cell.
He abruptly let go of her arm and walked away. Darla heard the outer door open and close, leaving the three of them alone. The woman faced them, blank-faced, with only the cell bars between. She kept up that frozen statue posture, except for widening her stance to pull the connecting chain between her ankles taut.
That has to be some kind of training. Darla studied her designated instructor. She’s the expert here; I have to learn the same skills.
“Hello, my name is Katrina, Trina for short. I’d normally welcome you to the Center, but considering your unexpected arrival that might not be the best way to start. I ask that you be patient and allow me to complete my assignment before you start with the questions. I’ll try to provide you with as much information as I’m permitted. Please don’t ask me to ignore my directives for this presentation. Under no circumstances will I disobey my master, or the Wardens designated for my supervision while in the Secure Area.”
Darla could hear the firm conviction in her tone. She had come across women like Trina before in her forays into the world of alternate lifestyles. A man’s property, and it wasn’t just an allegorical phrase. Trina’s commitment was total, unshakeable and on display for all to see.
The Center was a closed society of absolutes. If Trina was an example of what was possible, then Darla had much to ponder about her own feelings. Is it possible, could I one day be standing there in Trina’s place?
“This is ridiculous. Count me out.” Alisha went back to sit on her bunk.
Trina reacted as if someone had just slapped her. Darla caught the momentary recoil in shock before she recovered. Nor did Darla miss the look of disgust directed at Alisha. I bet that broke just about every rule in the book, Darla thought.
Trina switched her gaze to Darla. Seeing virtual perfection Darla felt clumsy and inadequate. As best she could, she imitated the image facing her. Back straight, head high, meet her eye to eye, don’t flinch or look away, all small details but she had nothing else to go on in the way of proper training. Trina indicated with a slight nod that Darla’s efforts were acceptable.
“To begin, here is what you need to know today. First, and foremost, always do as you are told. Obedience to authority is not a matter of choice. Never forget, not for one second, the men here are in charge. You, me, we have no rights. There are no legal protections to hide behind. If you think I’m joking, take a look around you. The men here have the means, and I assure you the willpower, to ruthlessly enforce our rules by any means they choose.”
Alisha snorted. “Oooh, I’m so scared.”
Trina closed her eyes. Darla was sure she could hear the silent count to ten behind the effort to remain calm. “You should be scared. You have no idea what they are capable of. Before you laugh it off as a bluff think of this. No woman has ever left the Center before successfully completing the training program. None, zero, nada. There’s no limit to the time you’ll spend in here. Start with a bad attitude and you can count on years out of your life. However long you plan to swim against the current, sooner or later it will wear you down. Time is not on your side.”
Alisha got up and strode right up to the bars, stopping inside the blue zone painted on the floor. “That’s not gonna happen to me. The police are coming. The days are numbered for this place. Nothing you say is going to intimidate me. They’ll haul you off to jail along with everyone else.” Alisha made a show of looking Trina up and down. “Seems you’re already nicely packaged for their arrival. I hope they forget to cover you up for the perp walk in front of the cameras.”
Trina kept looking down at the floor and then back to Alisha. No question she was terrified; the trembling only confirmed it. At some point she reached the point where it was too much. Clumsily, with her hands locked behind her back, Trina knelt on the floor. Once more that frozen statue appeared, this time on her knees.
Something very bad is about to happen, Darla sensed. Trina tried to signal with her eyes that Darla should go to the floor too.
Without even thinking Darla followed Trina’s example. She did her best to copy that immovable statue. Her hands weren’t bound, so she relied on what she’d learned at Mr. G’s. Carefully she placed her hands, palm down, on her legs just above the knees. There was a brief nod from Trina. That must be the right way. Then Darla heard the outer door open.
Unacceptable
After the last strap was pulled tight, Darla’s head was pressed firmly into the padding on the table. She and Alisha had been brought to this room without any explanation, though considering Alisha’s behavior none was necessary. It was decorated in a medical motif, white walls, tile floor, and mysterious electronic devices strewn across a counter to one side. Two of the Wardens had lifted her up onto an examination table equipped with an impressive array of restraints. It didn’t take long before she was all but immobilized by padded leather cuffs around her ankles and wrists, combined with wide leather belts across her legs, arms and torso. The finishing touch was a strap across her forehead, held in place by another under her chin.
One of the Wardens, she recognized him as the van driver from her trip, walked around her table, inspecting the results. “She’s ready. Let’s get the other one on the table.” He walked over to Alisha and took the place of one of the Wardens holding onto her.
That extra Warden turned back to Darla, leaned over and whispered to her, “Listen carefully. I will not repeat myself. What’s about to happen will be stressful, but at no time will you be in any danger. Remain calm and you will be fine. I will be watching over you at all times, to keep you safe from harm. You will not speak until I give you permission.”
His words were both ominous and reassuring. Something extremely unpleasant was coming, yet she wasn’t afraid. It was her weakness for power, taken not given, expressed in his low yet confident voice when he encouraged her to relax. I will be watching over you, that phrase had a soothing effect on Darla.
Meanwhile Alisha was struggling with her two guards, trying to prevent them from tying her down. The Warden she recognized, he appeared to be in charge, leaned over and spoke in a firm tone of voice. “Knock it off! You’re not helping yourself by resisting.” He pointed back to Darla. “She’s smart enough to figure out fighting us isn’t going to stop this from happening. You can learn from her example.”
It seemed to work. Alisha gave up and held still while the straps went on. He nodded in approval. “That’s better.”
He backed up so that both women could see him. “You two need to learn, quickly, that life in here is far different compared to the outside world. There are regulations to govern how we all act, especially you. There are consequences, immediate ones, if we fail to respect those rules. In a moment you’re going to find out what happens when you choose to exhibit unacceptable behavior. I want to impress on you, we have no patience, no tolerance, no leniency on this matter. If you want to challenge us, go ahead. We have the time to repeat these corrections as often as needed. Ask yourselves, is it worth the effort?”
The Warden standing next to Darla leaned over her again. “Is there anything you’d like to say?” he asked.
“No, sir,” she whispered, with a quiver in her voice. Despite his reassurance the fear of the unknown weighed on Darla.
He laid a hand on her shoulder. Leaning down he spoke softly in her ear, “Remember what I told you. We are always there for you. No matter what, don’t be afraid.”
Alisha was next. Robert stood to one side, studying her while she was stretched out on the table. “What about you? I’m sure you have plenty to say?” That much was obvious from the expression on her face. It was a good sign that she was holding back, waiting to be allowed to speak, instead of launching into an angry tirade.
“Whatever you’re planning, you won’t get away with it. Sooner or later, we’ll be found and then you’ll have to answer for your crimes. I can’t stop you but I won’t give in to intimidation. Do your worst; I’ll survive and come back stronger for it.” For emphasis she shouted out her tirade.
Brave words, but to Robert it was obviously a bluff. Behind that defiant front she must be terrified. Stripped of clothing, tied down, completely helpless, the stares of the men around her, there must be countless gruesome scenarios running through her mind. It was best he put to rest the worst of her fears.
“Your behavior up to now has been reprehensible. Lack of respect, talking out of turn, refusing to follow instructions, failure to adhere to even the simplest of rules, none of this is acceptable. We expect better of you. You will reflect on the wisdom of defiance while in solitary confinement, what we refer to as a ‘time out’. Concentrate on how disappointing you’ve been, and how you will strive to do better in the future.”
Robert went to the far wall and slid open two panels, revealing deep recesses shrouded in darkness. Darla went in head first, when the Warden next to her slid the table top off the gurney onto the shelf built into the wall. She heard the click of rollers when he pushed her all the way in.
The compartment was a close fit. Her head barely cleared the ceiling, and her shoulders rubbed against the sides. “Solitary” was obvious now; she was to be isolated, buried in a wall, cut off from all outside contact. She’d been locked in cages before during bondage sessions, but nothing like this. When the panel slid shut at her feet all exterior sounds were cut off, including Alisha’s renewed protests.
Time Out
The light dimmed but didn’t go out completely. It helped to keep down a rising panic. He promised I wouldn’t be hurt, that he’d protect me. If I trust him then I should be alright.
Darla tried her best to lie quietly in her tiny prison. I have to remain silent; he told me not to speak. In any case, would anyone hear her? Of course he would, he’d be listening to make sure she was obedient. She clenched her jaws tight. There would be no further “unacceptable” conduct from her.
She tested the straps in a slow but determined effort. Those men knew what they were doing; she couldn’t move. Not that it really made a difference. There was so little room in the claustrophobic space that being tied down didn’t make much difference.
Unacceptable behavior, the reason she was in here, kept coming back to haunt her. She was paying the penalty with what those men called a “time out.” Darla had done her best not to draw their anger, yet thanks to Alisha it didn’t make any difference. All for one, one for all, just like the Three Musketeers. She had to admit some kind of punishment was justified, given Alisha’s hostile attitude. Shared accountability didn’t seem fair though. What did they expect me to do?
Her arranged visit to Mr. G’s place, though it was intense, had been nothing more than a roleplaying game. By rights she should be back at home in her apartment in Los Angeles, not buried inside a hole in the wall. Darla tried not to think about what Mr. G had told her, pointedly declaring what she really needed was to completely lose control, permanently. It was uncomfortably close to the truth, but she didn’t want to face the implications behind that conclusion.
How long would she have to remain in this tiny tomb? Minutes turn into hours when there is no way to measure the passage of time. Darla had only herself for company. This is definitely a time out, with nothing to do but reflect on my situation. “Situation”, a nice, euphemistic term for being held against her will, for unknown reasons, and no idea what the future might bring.
She had to back up. The reasons weren’t entirely unknown. That mysterious woman, Sally, the one she’d met at Mr. G’s place, was she the cause? Sally never forgets, those were the cryptic words passed on by Mr. G just before the van took her away. Was the enigmatic Sally the reason for her current predicament?
Or was it Mr. G who had sent her to this place? She couldn’t put out of her head his remark about her need to be controlled. Was she actually in the perfect place to find lasting happiness? She ought to be copying Alisha in a show of defiance, yet the moment one of those Wardens started talking there was an overwhelming urge to please him, to prove she could be obedient in executing his orders.
Despite all her efforts she was still being punished. Was it entirely Alisha’s fault, or did Darla share some of the blame? In the darkness her mind kept coming back to that question. Could she have done more to rein in Alisha’s temper? And what about my own attitude? It was so easy to blame others; was she blind to her own failings? She had spoken without permission, something that couldn’t be ignored. It was easy to lay the blame on Alisha, too easy. She had much to answer for as well.
Darla felt no resentment toward the men who had forced her into the claustrophobic hole in the wall. They represented authority, something she had difficulty in challenging. Especially when it was taken, assumed as a right without her consent. The way those men carried themselves, so self-assured their power over her could not be questioned; it got into her head and wouldn’t leave.
Then the lights went out. She was plunged into an inky blackness, without a hint of illumination. Her first thought was to assume she’d done something to provoke additional punishment, but that didn’t seem possible.
The Warden who had spoken to her, he promised to watch over her. I have to trust him, she repeated to herself over and over. Somehow, she sensed these words were not an idle promise.
A Nightmare
The moment she saw what happened to Darla, Alisha began struggling again. She had been intimidated into reluctant cooperation after the head Warden had warned her to stop. Now she was trapped in a web of leather belts fastening her to the table. Maybe she couldn’t physically fight back, but she still had the means to put voice to her determined resistance.
“Unacceptable behavior” be damned, she was not going to be shoved into what looked like one of those morgue storage units on TV shows. Alisha made that clear in explicit and vulgar detail, though the men didn’t seem to be paying any attention to her protestations.
In she went, into the hole in the wall, head first. The moment her feet cleared the threshold she heard one of the Wardens say something about “enough of that” before the panel slammed shut. Alisha continued to scream ever more colorful invective, despite being cut off from the room outside her tiny box.
Once she realized they couldn’t hear her she gave up. Twisting and turning she tried to free herself, hoping to find some loose strap. Exhausted, she finally gave up on that too. It was all too clear she wasn’t going anywhere until those men came back for her. How long would that be? She had no idea. Without her smartphone she had no way to check the time anyway.
Would she ever see her phone again? Without it she felt cut off from the rest of the world. It had been confiscated when her fake “arrest” started what she assumed would be an adventure in undercover reporting. Alisha didn’t see the irony in worrying more about getting her phone back than being kidnapped.
They couldn’t leave her in this hole forever. Eventually they had to come back for her, but how long did she have to wait? At school in her Literature class one of the assignments had been to analyze an Edgar Allen Poe story, The Cask of Amontillado. In it the victim is lured into a cellar with the promise of a glass of an exceptional vintage wine, only to be walled up, never to be found again. The parallels with her situation weren’t lost on Alisha. There was always a possibility they would choose to leave her embedded in the wall, along with Darla. It was a simple way to get rid of them.
Alisha pushed that scenario out of her head. If they intended to do away with her then she’d be buried in a hole out in the desert instead of here. No, they had a plan for her. Yeah, but what is that plan? They certainly weren’t going to share it with her. Whatever it was, she was sure it involved her being incarcerated in this private prison for a lengthy period.
The Inspector had shown her the elaborate falsified records to go with her undercover investigation. Two to three years in a minimum-security prison, though in reality she’d be returned to the outside world after a few weeks. That was the promise. Instead, she wound up in a maximum-security facility, one with its own set of laws, and a sentence that was open-ended.
In a real prison solitary meant being kept away from other prisoners. Here it meant being entombed alive. Alisha was near panic, even though she did her best to hide it. All her dire threats of retaliation were an empty bluff, and the men in here knew it. Darla was right. She had walked into a skillfully laid trap, which had closed around her before she realized what had happened.
“Unacceptable behavior,” that was clear enough. The Wardens were tired of her pushing back and had chosen to put a stop to it. There was nothing to prevent them from escalating their “punishments” until it became a matter of her survival. She had no illusions as to what she now faced. In this poker game she had no cards to play and no credible bluff.
Then the lights went out. “No matter how bad, it can always get worse,” she muttered out loud. Were they listening? Probably, but she didn’t care.
Lying on her back in the dark, unable to move, Alisha took stock of her situation. There was no miracle rescue coming for her, she wasn’t going to escape, and if she continued to defy her captors, they might well resort to the most extreme measures to rid themselves of an irritating problem. If she admitted defeat, started cooperating, then she had a chance to better her fortunes at some point in the future. The idea left a bad taste in her mouth, but if the alternative were escalating “corrections” with possibly fatal results then she had no hope at all.
Staking a Claim
“C’mon Bob, you’re kidding! No one is behind this Darla’s presence at the Center? How can that be? No way she’s here by choice.” The question came from Samuel Littleton, Sam to those who knew him. He was sitting with Robert in the cafeteria, having coffee before their shift began. Sam had been the extra Warden who had worked with Darla to keep her calm before she started her stay in solitary confinement.
“It’s complicated but yeah, she is unclaimed. There are some exceptional circumstances concerning her arrival but nothing that marks her as a potential troublemaker. That’s all I can say for now. The Director has issued an information blackout order for her, so I can’t go into details.” Bob sipped from his coffee cup. From watching Sam the last few days, he had a good idea of what was coming next.
Sam leaned back in his chair. “In that case, I’d like to arrange the schedule so I can spend more time supervising her. Nothing definite yet, let’s say I’m exploring possibilities.”
Bob nodded. “Sure, I don’t see a problem. Given her status I’ll have to run it by the Director, just as a formality. Meanwhile I’ll check the rotation to make sure you’re first on the scene. She’s still in Quarantine but I don’t see that lasting more than another day or two. You won’t be there every time, but it’s amazing how coincidences happen so often in here.”
Sam laughed. “Yeah, it’s positively eerie.” He glanced at his phone. “Guess we better get going. Wouldn’t want to keep the ladies waiting.”
After checking in at the start of shift the two Wardens went directly to what they called the “medical room”, though it was nothing of the sort. It was decorated with instruments and medical paraphernalia, plus there was the wall made to look like the storage shelves for a morgue, except the compartments weren’t refrigerated. The cold, clinical décor was deliberate, to instill a sense of foreboding for the unfortunate women who were in need of a “time out.”
Robert and Sam were the only two Wardens present, since they didn’t expect any trouble while releasing the “guests”, the euphemistic term in use at the Center for all women in the Secure Area. “We’ll start with Darla,” Robert explained. “The other one, Alisha, it won’t hurt for her to have a little more time to herself. Though I regret the necessity, we’ll have to come down hard on her for the time being. Or until she does something about her attitude.”
He gestured for Sam to stand to one side of the panel sealing Darla’s compartment. “I’ll open the door and pull her out. You’ll be the first one she sees. Keep a close eye on her reaction. Assuming she doesn’t turn violent I’ll remove the straps. When I finish you do the last one on her forehead.”
Sam nodded to show he understood. He turned to a dial on the wall and slowly started to turn it clockwise. This would bring up the lights so her eyes could adjust after being so long in the dark.
Out of the Darkness
It wasn’t her mind playing tricks; the lights were back on. How long have I been in here? Darla had lost all track of time. She was thirsty, hungry, and the smell from the adult diaper she wore told her it was in desperate need of changing. Hours, days, she had no clue.
She could feel the dried tracks of tears on her cheeks. While she hoped the lights meant her ordeal was nearing an end, she was also well aware of the poor attitude that put her in here. “Unacceptable behavior,” the words wouldn’t go away. She was determined to redeem herself in the eyes of the Wardens.
I have years of experience with dominant men. That other woman, Alisha, has an excuse; I don’t. There had been plenty of time, in the dark, to compile a long list of her mistakes. Right from the first moment she had been careless, passive, indifferent to instructions, and worst of all flaunting blatant disrespect of the Wardens. It wasn’t by choice she was here, though in her mind that only added to the power they had over her. Like it or not from now on she had to be an active participant in whatever they planned for her.
Her heart leaped when the panel at her feet slid aside. Hands gripped the table top, pulling her out into the room onto a waiting gurney. Relief flooded in; it was over.
Once she cleared the entrance her first sight was of that same Warden hovering nearby. True to his word he was watching over her. Darla’s first reaction was to thank him but she caught herself in time. His last instructions had included a very specific order to wait for permission to speak.
For just a moment he lapsed from the image of the stern-faced Warden when a smile showed through the gruff exterior. It passed in less than a second but Darla didn’t miss it. He noticed, she thought, with a bit of pride in how well she obeyed his orders.
She couldn’t see the other Warden but did feel his hands on her legs when he began removing the straps. He did come into view when he worked his way up to her arms. She recognized him, the van driver, a label she’d given him since she didn’t know his actual name. Darla was careful not to move while he removed her restraints. Patience, one of them will let you know what to do next, the voice of experience spoke to her.
The last of the straps came off when Mr. Nice, the name she’d given the Warden closest to her, loosened the one across her forehead and lifted it off. It was an immense relief to be freed after being tied down for an extended period. Much as she wanted to jump up off the table and stretch every muscle Darla willed herself to lie quietly. The last thing she wanted was to be subjected to another “time out” for failing to learn her lesson.
Her Mr. Nice placed his hands on her shoulders while he leaned in close. “You did well.” His words of praise gave Darla a warm feeling of accomplishment. “Listen carefully. This is what will happen next. You will walk around the room first, to get some much-needed exercise. After that I’ll take you down the corridor where you can shower and clean up. I’ll get you something to eat, too. Then I’ll take you to a place where you can rest before we continue with the orientation.”
The moment of panic must have shown on her face, for he quickly reassured her. “Don’t worry, as long as you behave properly, you’ll be okay. We did take into account your cooperation. Your companion will continue with her time out for a while longer.”
While he spoke, he stared directly into Darla’s eyes. His voice was low but intent, as if he were reciting a story. At that moment there was nothing more important than the simple plan he’d laid out for her.
He took hold of her right arm. “Try to stand up. If you get dizzy you can sit back down. You have my permission to speak.”
Finally, she could talk again. “Thank you, sir. You’re very kind.” She swung her legs over the side and got to her feet. He held onto her arm to keep her steady. “I’m fine, sir. Should I do as you ask, walk around?” She looked up at him.
Suddenly Sam spun her around so her back was to him. “Hands behind your back, now!” He didn’t shout though his commanding tone was just as effective. Without even thinking her hands went to the small of her back, palms almost together. She felt as much as heard the click of the handcuffs closing on her wrists. Seconds later she felt the leg irons lock around her ankles.
In her adventures exploring the lifestyle alternatives this was the moment Darla couldn’t resist. For one second, she closed her eyes, lost in the wave of pleasure that swept over her. Dimly she was aware of the weight of the steel bracelets yet it wasn’t important. The man next to her had taken over with a total disregard for her consent.
When Darla opened her eyes again the other Warden, Mr. Van Driver, was staring at her intently, studying her reaction. He saw it, she realized, and he figured out what it means. Keeping secrets from these men would be difficult. They were experts, with years of experience. There was little point in trying to hide her reaction from them.
After leading her around the room for a few minutes he spoke up. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up. Your friend Alisha can wait.” Using his grip on her arm Sam steered Darla toward the room’s exit.
Break Time
After a shower and some food Darla felt much better. She still wore nothing more than the chastity belt, plus the collar around her neck. Her hands were once again cuffed behind her back, and the length of chain between cuffs on her ankles was a reminder not to hurry if she tried to lengthen her stride. Even so, Darla wasn’t concerned about her present situation. The Warden would take care of her.
The ubiquitous Mr. Nice was escorting her somewhere yet to be revealed. It was uncanny how he always showed up to take custody of her, even though she’d seen several Wardens passing by them in the hallway. Maybe it was a deliberate action taken by whoever ran the Center. Whatever the reason she was positive if she asked there would be no explanation. They’ll tell me if I need to know. Darla had to smile at the thought. With that kind of attitude, she knew the place was growing on her.
Somewhere in the maze of identical hallways they came to a stop. Through the bars she saw a small room, little more than a bench against the far wall, with one occupant. Trina shot to her feet when they appeared. Darla envied her; she knew exactly what to do whenever a Warden showed up.
After unlocking the door, Mr. Nice led her inside. “Both of you will sit down. When we’re ready for you we’ll be back. If you need assistance, you have permission to stand up and call out for help. The two of you may talk quietly while you wait.”
Darla joined Trina on the bench. The Warden turned around, shut the door, locking it with his key, and walked off without looking back. When she looked over at Trina there was that frozen statue again, except this time seated. Trina faced the bars, not moving a muscle other than the faintest shake of her head.
Darla got the message. She tried to copy Trina’s perfect posture. He might come back, and if he did this is what he expected to see.
After about a minute or so Trina relaxed and stretched out her legs. “Good, you picked up on my warning. It’s a lazy attitude to not be cautious when a Warden leaves you alone. Never assume you can kick back right away. A little patience costs you nothing, but it is important to them,” she nodded towards the bars, “if we put in that little extra bit of effort in obeying them. Trust me, they notice, even if you don’t see it.”
It was one more tidbit to store away for future use. There was so much to learn and so little time given to her to figure it out. Darla leaned forward to hold up her bound hands. “He didn’t take the cuffs off. Why? We can’t leave; I don’t see the reason we have to sit like this.” She raised up her feet to rattle the chain linking her ankles together.
Trina shook her head. “Don’t ever ask questions like that. I have no idea why, and I’m not making any attempt to find out. Our responsibility is to accept the conditions imposed on us, period.” She leaned forward too. “Get used to this. Like it or not we must depend on the men here to decide what’s best for us. Personally, I like to be helpless, closely restrained, even being confined in a cage like this one. No worries, know what I mean? If there’s nothing you can do, then you don’t have to be concerned about getting it wrong. To each her own, though I would point out you can’t take these off.” She jerked on her cuffs. “They have this nagging habit of requiring a key, and somehow I never seem to have one.”
Darla leaned back against the wall. “I’ve noticed that too. I figured, you being part of the establishment here, you might be exempt from…” she held up her legs, shackled together, “from certain requirements.”
Trina laughed and shook her head. “Hardly. If anything, the rules are more strictly enforced for me. That’s something you have to watch out for. The better you are at following orders, the more the Wardens expect from you.”
“The collective punishment thing, you didn’t have to spend time in solitary. At least I didn’t see you in there,” Darla observed. Maybe there were degrees of accountability, with some being more guilty than others.
Trina sighed. “Yes, well that might have been easier than what really occurred. See, when I’m finished with my assignments in here my master picks me up and takes me home to our apartment, outside the Secure Area. Only that’s not going to happen tonight or perhaps for days to come. I was there when your friend had the meltdown. My part of the collective punishment is remaining in the Secure Area indefinitely. I have no idea how long that will last. You’ll learn that’s part of being subject to correction. You never know when it will end.”
“I’m so sorry. I try to talk some sense into Alisha but she won’t listen. She’s not my friend, by the way. We came here by different routes. The Wardens put us together.” Based on what Trina had told her, she was worse off than Darla or Alisha.
Trina shrugged. “There are times there’s nothing you can do except wait for the inevitable. Is the group policy a fair one? I can’t answer that either. It’s another one of those improper questions. Never, ever challenge the regulations for the Center. Rage against the machine all you want, just not while I’m around.”
Darla laughed. “When it comes to Alisha, I wish I were somewhere else all the time. It’s frustrating, trying to make her understand when she’s so fixated on getting out of here. I can see there’s only one way, and that’s to get with the program, whatever it is. She refuses to hear it.”
“Don’t stop trying. The Wardens know everything that goes on. They’ll notice your effort, even if it isn’t successful. I’ll cover this when Alisha rejoins us. For now, act as if everything you say or do counts toward their evaluation of your attitude. I can’t stress how important that is.”
Darla suspected there was a surveillance system. Trina had all but confirmed it, in a roundabout way. Was that why she was sitting here in a waiting room while Alisha was still being subjected to her time out? Maybe they were all responsible for each other, but the degree of accountability could differ.
She started to ask Trina about it but stopped before a word got out. Think it through, she told herself. Never question policy, Trina had specifically mentioned it. She must be perilously close to a prohibited question.
Trina studied Darla’s face. “What” she asked. “Something on your mind?”
It was Darla’s turn to shake her head. “Sorry, I don’t believe I’m allowed to discuss it.”
“Good for you, you’re learning. By the way, that’s the polite way to tell someone you ran into a rule. If you hear the phrase, change the subject.”
Changing Opinion
“I want you to stand here, quietly. No matter what happens you are to remain where you are. Can I trust you to do this?” Sam faced Darla, who stood near the far wall in the medical room. He had come for her while she sat with Trina. The medical room was just about the last place she wanted to see again.
“Yes, sir, I won’t move, I promise.”
He backed up and looked her over. “Shoulders back, keep your head up and back straight. I want that chain between your ankles off the floor, move your feet further apart.” Darla didn’t hesitate.
She saw his eyes sweeping up and down, checking all the details, in the process making her self-conscious about her appearance. He must have liked what he saw, for he nodded in approval. “Much better. Patience and obedience, Darla, keep those in mind and you’ll do well in here. The Center can be harsh at times. But if you don’t lose sight of the basics, you’ll find it’s not so bad.”
He turned away and went over to the panel sealing the compartment still holding Alisha. After sliding open the cover they pulled her out onto the gurney. “How...long?” she croaked in a hoarse voice.
Neither of the Wardens answered her. What a stupid question, Darla thought. Part of the punishment is not knowing how long it will last. She did get at least an hour more than me, maybe two; there is some justice in this world. More and more Darla was getting tired of Alisha’s unceasing complaints. Maybe the time out would help to fix her attitude problem.
They didn’t immediately release her from the restraints. Instead, the head Warden spoke to her. “We aren’t done. Either you respect the rules from now on, or it’s back in the hole you go. What’s it going to be?”
“Please, I’ll…I’ll do whatever you want. Don’t put me back in there.” Darla could hear the desperation in Alisha’s voice. The isolation must have had a greater effect on her.
The Wardens didn’t seem to be convinced of Alisha’s sincerity. Darla watched while they huddled in one corner of the room, discussing something in low tones. She almost felt sorry for Alisha, still strapped down on the tabletop. Almost being the catch; Darla thought back to all the incidents that led up to this point. She didn’t want to see Alisha suffering, but the reality was she had brought it on herself. Darla had little sympathy for those who reaped the consequences from their own self-inflicted wounds.
The men must have settled their argument, whatever it was. One stood next to Alisha while another began loosening the straps. The first Warden, whom she’d never seen before, leaned over and spoke to Alisha. “Releasing you was not a unanimous decision. If there is a next time your time out will be in days. I hope we have reached an understanding.”
Darla shuddered at the thought of being trapped in that black hole for days on end. It was too much like being buried alive. Time slowed to a crawl inside that wall. Even the few hours Darla had spent inside were enough to leave her terrified she’d be sent back again.
Alisha was standing up, with the help of that first Warden. She shot a withering glance at Darla, who appeared none the worse for the experience. Mr. Nice, her Warden, came up from behind and took hold of Darla’s arms in a firm grip. “Remember this,” he warned, leaning in close. “You are one disobedient moment away from sharing the same fate as her. We do not tolerate insolence or a show of disrespect for our authority.”
The lesson wasn’t lost on Darla. Even though he had been considerate toward her, the man holding her wasn’t going to ignore the regulations for her sake. That was as it should be. She believed to be dominant was to make hard choices, and above all to not be swayed by emotion when it came to enforcing discipline.
Deliberate
Darla stood next to Alisha, both of them facing the Warden on the other side of the bars. He had just brought them back from a training room, the one where a wall was covered in mirrors. The lesson had been on how to stand, how to sit, how to walk; it seemed like there was one right way for just about everything at the Center. For over an hour they had to pose in front of their reflections, in what had to be the cruelest of self-appraisals.
Darla tugged at the handcuffs holding her arms behind her back. Never leave home without them; that appeared to be the policy rigorously enforced by the Wardens. It certainly explained why no one ever escaped. The usual procedure, now their cell door was locked, would be for him to call them up to the bars, one at a time, to remove the restraints.
The class had been one long and tiring exercise. Darla looked forward to sitting down on her bunk for a while to rest. It would be nice to lie down and put her feet up but that wasn’t permitted. Yet one more rule for this place, both feet on the floor until lights out. Darla was convinced the vast majority of the Center’s rules were designed for no other purpose than to make her life difficult. Even so, she knew better than to question out loud the reasoning behind the limitations imposed on her.
There was a rule for this moment too, one they had practiced in front of the mirrors. Darla held still, staring straight ahead, her attention focused on the man watching her through the cell bars. She couldn’t see Alisha but prayed her unwelcome companion was smart enough to do as she had been taught. If not then both of them would surely suffer the consequences of Alisha’s stubborn refusal to accept their new reality.
The Warden’s eyes never wavered while he studied the two women, looking for the slightest imperfection. These inspections were all too frequent. If he wasn’t satisfied anything could happen, including holding them in position for as long as he pleased.
Abruptly, without a word of explanation, he turned and walked away. Alisha rushed to the bars, but to Darla’s relief stopped before she stepped on the forbidden zone defined by the blue stripe on the floor. She was about to call out when Darla whispered, “No! Don’t do it!”
Puzzled, Alisha looked at Darla. She held out her hands, still bound behind her back. “He forgot to let us go. We need to get him back here.”
Darla shook her head. Alisha didn’t understand. Maybe those jokes about dumb reporters were true after all. “He didn’t forget.” Darla held out her arms in the same way. “This is deliberate. If you complain nothing good will come of it.”
Slowly, hobbled by the chain connecting her ankles, Darla made her way to her bunk. Leaning forward to keep her balance she sat down. Mindful of the lesson they had just finished she straightened her back, brought her feet together and sat with her knees barely touching, lined up with her ankles in a vertical line. The one right way, like it or not, is how it must be. Meanwhile Alisha hadn’t budged.
“That’s it?” Alisha asked sarcastically. “Sit there like a good little girl? Not me, there must be something I can do.” She stumbled back and forth, from one end of the bars to the other, trying in vain to see around the extended walls blocking any view of the hallway. The chains on her ankles didn’t help.
I’m quickly losing patience with her, Darla grimaced in irritation. “There is something. Come over here and sit down. Everything in this place has a reason behind it. Are you ever going to figure that out?” She nodded towards Alisha’s bed. “Sit down, like we were taught, and wait. I realize you aren’t the patient type, but unless you make some immediate changes all you are accomplishing is making life miserable for both of us.”
She glared at Alisha. “For once in your life, think before opening your mouth,” Darla snapped. “They don’t make mistakes, which ought to be obvious to you by now. Isn’t it plain to see this is a test? Use your head, assuming you really do have any brains in there.”
Alisha seemed to recoil in shock at Darla’s harsh words. Yet they did have an effect. Slowly she shuffled over to her bunk and, copying Darla, sat down with both feet on the floor, knees close together. Dejected, she hung her head.
“Keep your head up!” Darla whispered. “They must be watching us.”
Alisha’s head jerked up. She looked around but saw no one else. “There’s no one here, what are you talking about?”
And she claims she went to college? Darla shook her head. “Cameras, hidden ones, I’d guess at least two, maybe more. And microphones, don’t forget they hear everything we say.”
Alisha glanced around the cell again. “I don’t see any cameras. You must be paranoid.”
Now I know what it’s like to herd cats. “You aren’t supposed to see them. Do you seriously think they’re going to leave us here without someone checking on us constantly? These men are a lot smarter than you assume. They’re experts, so don’t think you have any idea of what’s actually going on.”
Something changed in Alisha. Darla saw how her shoulders slumped in defeat. “Look,” Alisha whispered. “I’m scared, okay? Maybe it’s easy for you to be fatalistic, but I’m frightened. Sooner or later, they are going to come for what men always want, and there’s no way I can stop them.”
She rattled the connecting chain between her wrists. “I’ve never been so helpless before, in my entire life. Those Wardens, they’re so powerful it makes me feel small, weak and vulnerable. Any one of them can make use of me whenever he pleases. Every day in here just brings the inevitable closer.”
When she began to shake Darla came over and sat down next to her. The best she could manage was to press her shoulder against Alisha in support. “Hey, I’m scared too, even if it doesn’t show. Everything you say is true, except for the way you’re looking at it. Ask yourself one simple question. If they intend us to be some kind of sex slave, why hasn’t it happened already?”
Alisha shook her head. “What? I don’t get what you’re trying to say.”
Darla’s dislike for Alisha faded when she got to see a new side to the woman. “As you said, they can do with us, to us, anything they want. Yet the worst hasn’t come to pass. Doesn’t that tell you something? They have other plans.”
Alisha turned to look at Darla. “What other plans? Do you know how long they’re going to keep us confined in here?”
Darla shook her head. “I don’t have the slightest idea of what’s in store for us. No, they haven’t revealed any secrets to me. How long? Again, no idea but I’m betting it will be quite a while, months at least.” Or years, but Darla didn’t want to add to Alisha’s worries.
There were tears running down Alisha’s face. “My life is over before it’s really begun. At some point they’ll give up on me, and that will be it. For the rest of eternity, I’ll be buried in some unmarked spot in the desert.” She shook her head. “And all for a lousy story I thought would make me famous. How could I have been so stupid? They led me to this place like a lamb to the slaughter.”
“Hey,” Darla began. “We’re alive, we aren’t being beaten, or worse, day and night, and if you think about it, for the most part we’ve even been treated with a kind of respect. Sure, the men here run things, they tell us what to do, and they make sure it gets done to their satisfaction. Even with all that we must keep up a positive outlook. We can find a place here. It may not be ideal, but we survive in the hope of better times. Don’t give up, Alisha. It looks bleak now, but try to keep a positive attitude. Other women have made it through the same trials we face. I won’t lie to you; I have no idea what lies in our future, but I want to be there to find out.”
Interim Evaluation
“You called that one right, Bob,” the Director stated. “Darla is having a definite, and positive, effect on Alisha’s behavior. I’m going to move them out of Quarantine, but we’ll make sure they stay together.”
“One part instinct and one-part lucky guess,” Robert replied. “On the subject of Darla, I have a request to pass on.”
“Shoot,” the Director answered.
“It comes from Sam Littleton. I think everyone knows him? He indicated to me he is interested in Darla, once he found out she isn’t owned by anyone. I arranged schedules so he would have more time supervising her. In case he decides to proceed further, I’d like to check if there are any objections?”
Max, the psychologist, pointed out the most pressing question. “Is he aware of her history, specifically concerning the risk posed by Psycho Sally? Much as I’d like to believe Sally is satisfied with sending Darla here, psychopaths by nature can be both obsessive and irrational, especially when it’s a matter of revenge.”
“No, all I told him is there’s a blackout on information about her. I did go back and review some video of her with Sam. The camera caught a few unguarded moments, when he wasn’t watching her. I’m guessing here, but I’d say if he were more, let’s say assertive, she wouldn’t object.”
Both Max and the Director laughed. “Okay, full disclosure to Sam, but he keeps it to himself. Informed decision, Bob, make sure he understands what he might be facing.” The Director tapped a pencil on the conference room table. “Now, what are we going to do with Alisha?”
The Next Step
“So that’s the story, Sam. The Director wanted you to know, but for your ears only. Do you still want more contact time with Darla?” Bob sat at the table in the “eye in the sky”, the room fitted out with monitors for the Secure Area surveillance system.
Sam leaned back in his chair. Who exactly was this “Psycho Sally” anyway? His first reaction was to keep Darla safe. That answered one question. “Yeah, consider this a formal notice. I’ll file my claim on her starting today. I want full access to her records, and I’m asserting my right to be the primary decision maker concerning her in the future. I’ll inform her at my discretion.”
Sam’s declaration wasn’t unexpected. “There’s some paperwork, but we’ll get to that later. I’ll get this into the computer right away so everyone concerned will be aware of her change in status.” He stood up and extended his hand. “Congratulations, I wish the two of you all the best.”
Though the Center operated outside the bounds of society’s legal system it was not based on anarchy. There was a charter which defined guidelines for the staff and where the Center would draw a line when it came to those individuals housed within its walls. The code of conduct was heavily weighted toward the men who ran the Center, as should be expected, but it was not entirely one-sided.
After Bob left, Sam sat at the surveillance console, watching Darla’s every move. She had no idea of the potential danger she faced from Psycho Sally. Sam intended to make sure she never learned.
Mirror, Mirror
“Alisha? Go to the back and face the rear wall. Place your hands at shoulder height. Remain there until I announce I’m leaving.” Sam would be back for her later on, but first there was a special session arranged for Darla. If the outcome went as well as he hoped, her remaining time in the Secure Area could be substantially reduced by the review board.
Darla stood in front of her bunk, where she had been sitting. When Sam turned to her, she was watching him but otherwise remained in place, hands at her side. He reached behind his back to take out a pair of handcuffs from the holder. “You are coming with me.” The cuffs were visible in his right hand.
In an instant Darla’s back was to him, hands close together in the small of her back. Sam took his time fastening her wrists together with the cuffs. Does she realize how much this affects me? The way she obeyed, without the slightest hesitation, made it all the more difficult for him to keep his hands off her.
He took his time checking the cuffs to make sure they weren’t too tight. Her lustrous hair cascaded down her back. Underneath was the collar surrounding her neck, marking her for all to see as a woman who had come to terms with living a life shaped by the hand of a man who cared for her. Darla wasn’t aware he was that man, not yet but soon.
With one hand on her upper arm, he easily led her out of the cell into the corridor. The moment he let go, to close the cell door, she stopped, silently waiting for him to decide when they would continue. How easily she accepts all this, the Center, the chains, the collar, being told what to do. Sam stared at the back of her head. What goes on in there? She never complains, despite her entire life outside these walls being summarily snatched from her without warning.
“Alisha, you may return to your bunk. You will sit in the prescribed manner you have been taught. You will do so quietly, until you are instructed to stop. Failure to obey will be dealt with harshly.” That last bit wasn’t strictly necessary. Any act of disobedience was met with swift punishment.
Sam glanced over at Darla. She hadn’t moved. He nodded in approval. Meanwhile Alisha had taken up her assigned spot sitting on her bed. Sam took his time before he corrected her.
“No, that’s not acceptable. Push your hair behind your back. Your collar must be clearly visible at all times. Keep that chin up, and I want to see a straight line from knee to ankle.”
He could see the reluctant way she followed his instructions. It wasn’t enough to earn her a reprimand but she would have to improve. “That’s better,” he told Alisha, hoping a bit of encouragement would motivate her. “Remember, you are not permitted to break your position. Eyes front, do not turn your head. When I return, I will find you exactly as you are now.”
A command stated as a matter of fact. That’s the way Sam liked to operate. To his way of thinking it created a certain acceptance that his wishes were inevitable, that there was no other alternative.
Turning back to Darla, he took his time guiding her to the training room. In part it was a practical necessity; she couldn’t walk very fast with her ankles linked together. Even so, he didn’t press her to hurry. Sam enjoyed her company, despite there being no conversation allowed. She must have noticed the trip was proceeding at a slower than normal pace, judging from the times she quickly glanced up at him with a puzzled expression.
One of the perks of this job is not having to explain myself. Sam grinned at his purely selfish lack of justification. She could draw any inference she liked; it didn’t matter. Darla wasn’t going to raise an objection.
At the unmarked door to the training room Sam brought Darla to a halt. With his hand still on her arm he turned her to face the wall. She knew the rest of the procedure: face the wall, feet wide apart to the limit of the chains, head up, hands in the center of her back. Leaving her in place he unlocked the door and held it open before steering her inside.
The room was the Center’s well-known “Wall of Mirrors”, where one wall was completely covered in mirrored tiles. In front of the wall was a wide blue swath, the area off limits to all females. Typically, there were chairs or cushions used in training exercises. Today was going to be different.
Darla came to a surprised halt when she saw what awaited her. In the center of the otherwise empty room were two sets of wooden stocks, side by side, facing the mirrors. Superficially they resembled the old, medieval style pillory but on closer inspection showed several modernizations. One of the stocks was empty; the other held a woman prisoner in what had to be an uncomfortable position. There wasn’t much guesswork involved as to who would occupy that second set of stocks.
Sam could see she was afraid. It was time he calmed her down. Holding her head in his hands he lifted up her chin so they could see each other eye to eye. “I won’t lie to you. It will not be a pleasant stay in this thing, but I want to stress how important it is for you to join Paula. I’ve never let you come to any harm, and I won’t change that now. I’m asking you, Darla, to cooperate. Make this easy, not hard. Do this for me.”
She stared up at him, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. After a quick glance at her companion in adversity, she turned back to Sam. “I’m ready, sir. Tell me what I must do.”
A Private Chat
The click of the lock in the silence of the room echoed loudly. Darla watched as the Warden tested the wooden slats that held her neck and wrists. She was firmly clamped in place in the stocks, even to the boards imprisoning her ankles. Between the straps and the stocks there was little room for any kind of movement. Until he released her, she wasn’t going anywhere.
The Warden came around to the front, standing between Darla and the other woman. “This is how it will be,” he began. “Both of you will face front, toward the mirrors, at all times. Do not look to either side, or at each other, no matter what. Your time in these stocks will be doubled if you violate that rule. The extra time will be spent with a gag and hood. If either of you fail to follow my instructions both will be held accountable.”
That got Darla’s attention, fast. Actually, it wasn’t a serious restriction. She could clearly see everything in the reflection from the wall. How would they know if she cheated? Darla sighed even as the thought occurred to her. They’d know because I’d have to confess.
“For this session Paula will be the instructor. Darla, listen to her carefully. She will be in charge; respect her authority.” Those were the magic words for Darla. She couldn’t disappoint Mr. Nice, her Warden. “Paula, you may begin after I leave.”
In the mirror Darla watched him walk away, out the door. Do not turn your head, she forcefully reminded herself. It’s forbidden.
“Hello,” her companion spoke first. “As you heard, my name is Paula. You might remember me from when you first arrived at the Center.”
That’s when Darla recognized Paula. She had been the female guard in the van that had picked her up at Mr. G’s place. The last time Darla saw her had been in the Center’s garage, by the van. Paula had been in the process of removing her uniform when Darla and Alisha had been taken away.
“I don’t understand,” Darla asked. “What are you doing here? I thought you were one of the Wardens.”
Paula began laughing. “Sorry, you don’t realize how funny that sounds. No, I was just playing a part, following orders. My status here in the Center isn’t much different from yours. On occasion I’m given assignments in the Secure Area, like today.” Paula didn’t waver from her stare at the mirrors. “I am not exempt from discipline in here. If I look away, I’ll be punished every bit as severely as you.”
Darla tried to move around in her close-fitting prison. As she feared there was virtually no “wiggle room”, which had to be intentional.
Paula noticed her struggles. “Try to concentrate on something other than the stocks. I have no idea how long we’re going to be here. This is a new experience for me too, so I can’t tell you what to expect. But please, whatever you do, keep your eyes on the mirror. I don’t want to spend an entire day in this nasty piece of furniture.”
“I don’t understand why I’m here.” Darla stared at their reflections. “Am I being punished for something I did? How am I supposed to learn from it if I don’t know what put me here in the first place? Or is it some kind of training? That’s why we’re usually brought to this room. That’s the same problem, what gems of wisdom am I supposed to be absorbing while stuck in this thing?”
“Looks like it’s time for me to go to work,” Paula began. “I do have some specific instructions on how I’m to conduct this session, so bear with me. I can tell you we’re not being punished. You’re right, our time here is to be considered training, but don’t ask me for details. For now, let me do the talking. I’ll tell you when I’m done.”
The news was a relief to Darla. For some reason the idea she had somehow disappointed that Warden, Mr. Nice, weighed heavily on her mind. She studied her instructor in the mirror. This Paula seemed to be unperturbed at the prospect of spending hours immobilized in the stocks. What was her story, and why had she reappeared now?
“To start off, we’re here in this room for two main reasons. The first, and the obvious one, is to obey the men in charge of us. We were left with very clear and specific instructions on how we should behave. That means staring at the mirror, to the exclusion of all else.”
Darla studied Paula’s image as she spoke. It was only natural to face the person talking to you. Looking away was an act of rudeness. Or it would be if not for the point Paula was making. Turning her head to look at Paula would be the height of disobedience. Darla had to keep facing forward because there was no alternative.
“Ordinarily what we are doing might seem silly if not outright absurd.” Paula paused for a moment. “If that’s how you see it then you haven’t been picking up on what the Center is trying to teach you. Self-discipline, our dedication to what is right and proper, begins and ends with the attitude that our men, our owners, know what is best for us. Even if it makes no sense, like being locked into these stocks and staring at our reflections, we do as we are told though it might cause us to doubt their sanity.”
Owners? What was that about? Though she’d like to ask, Darla felt she should keep to the subject at hand. “We aren’t robots. Shouldn’t we have some say in what they impose on us, or at least be given an explanation? If I knew the reason why I was here then I’d be equipped to do a better job of delivering whatever it is the Center wants from me?”
There was an odd, distracted expression to Paula’s reflection. “If we need to know we will be told.” The monotone response implied this was one of those inflexible policies for which there was no appeal. “Maybe the reason we are stuck here is nothing more than a whim on a Warden’s part. If that’s true, it doesn’t change anything. Your answer is no, we do not have a ‘say’, as you put it. Authority flows in one direction, from the Wardens to us. Do not ever, ever, question your owner’s judgement.”
Owner, there it was again. Darla realized the woman next to her was fanatical about the whole subject of submission to male power, fiercely defensive against any suggestion the men who controlled them should be defied. What would it be like, if I fell into the same mindset as this woman next to me? Would there be anything left of the old Darla staring back at her in the mirror?
“The other reason we’re here is to have a conversation with you about a sensitive subject.” Darla turned her attention back to Paula and the mirror. “It comes down to a simple question. Do you have the commitment needed to become a man’s property, in the most literal sense of the word? Can you look up at the man standing next to you and proudly introduce him as your owner? If anyone asks, are you prepared to explain how you belong to him, that you are his possession?”
So that’s it! It was obvious to Darla that in Paula’s case she had found the answers long ago. Kneeling next to her was a woman who had no doubts as to her place in life, a place where she belonged, in the truest sense of the word, to her man. Paula wasn’t the one on the spot though.
Given the circumstances Darla couldn’t ignore Paula’s pointed questions. Her first impulse was to simply deny the whole concept as barbaric. Outside these walls she’d dismiss the idea as fantasy. But she wasn’t back in Los Angeles, and in her present circumstances the question wasn’t so easy to laugh off as silly nonsense.
Mr. G’s parting words came back to haunt her. Total loss of control, was that her secret desire she dared not admit, even to herself? Paula wasn’t pushing for an immediate answer, though Darla could see her unwavering stare in the mirror. There was no dodging the question; this was one of those once in a lifetime moments when the choice was down to either the status quo or radical change.
“Yes. Yes, I can make that commitment,” Darla answered softly, speaking more to herself than in reply to Paula.
From the Other Side
Sam made sure the door to the corridor was closed before he pushed aside the curtain to enter the observation room. The "Wall of Mirrors” was actually a two-way setup. In the dark Sam was invisible. He slipped on the headphones in order to hear the conversation between Darla and Paula.
Cameras were convenient but there were times it was more satisfying to watch through the mirrors. The cameras were limited in revealing the small visual cues that only came out with an unobstructed view in real time. The observation room was a closely guarded secret in the Secure Area. None of the women, not even Paula, were aware of its existence.
Sam’s seat was directly across from Darla. Both she and Paula were rigidly fixed in place by the stocks. There would be no walking away to hide raw emotions. His intention was to force the issue that plagued him. Darla wasn’t here by choice; Sam had to determine if she perceived her confinement as harmful or beneficial.
The remark about not being a robot caught his attention. It was revealing in how she saw her role as actively participating, driven by a need to contribute and not passively react to events. Paula’s response brought on a grin. Her reputation for fanatical, unquestioning obedience was well known in the Center. Rather on the extreme side for my taste, but Big Mike, her owner, didn’t seem to be bothered by it.
Paula skillfully guided the conversation to the critical question; the reason Sam had arranged for the room session. Darla’s answer settled all doubts. Whatever it took, he would claim this woman as his own, regardless of whatever obstacles might surface.
A Trade
His firm grip on her upper arm wasn’t painful. Darla stole a glance up at the Warden at her side. This was the one she called Mr. Nice. As long as she behaved, he wasn’t harsh, nor did he handle her roughly. As usual she had no idea where they were going or the reason why.
This time she was alone, singled out for…what? If she asked, he wouldn’t answer her, except maybe to deliver a reprimand for misbehaving. It didn’t take long to learn how the Center operated. Curiosity was not high on the Wardens’ “acceptable behavior” list.
It was increasingly obvious to Darla how the environment was affecting her. More and more she was adopting a passive, almost fatalistic attitude. There was no alternative to trusting in the ultimate good intentions of her captors.
The man next to her did help in keeping up an optimistic outlook. Like all the Wardens he was dressed in a black uniform, with polished jackboots and a police style basket weave belt. Today he’d added one more accessory: dark sunglasses that hid his eyes. The sight of him nearly took her breath away. All those power symbols played directly into her weakness for men in authority.
He didn’t hesitate to use his power over her either, which only added to her compulsion to please him. The moment he ordered her to turn around and put her hands behind her back, that low yet insistent voice filled her head. It wasn’t until the cuffs snapped shut on her wrists did Darla realize she had obeyed instantly.
There was a difference today. The handcuffs were the hinged type, far more restrictive. And the leg irons on her ankles were fitted with a shorter chain than normal, further limiting her ability to walk. She was grateful he allowed for her difficulties by setting a slow pace that Darla could manage.
Though virtually helpless the way he was considerate did reassure her, which is why she remained hopeful her ordeal here in the Center would eventually have a positive outcome. It was difficult to explain, but Darla sensed that he was doing his best to help her, even though he was responsible for the manner in which she was restrained.
They finally stopped in front of an unmarked door. He pushed Darla against the wall with a warning to “stay there.” From the corner of her eye, she saw him unlock the door with a key from the bundle attached to his belt.
How does he know this is the right door? Darla had yet to see a single door or hallway marked with any kind of sign. The place was laid out in a giant maze. Even if she managed to dash off, at a slow, stumbling walk, she’d be lost in moments.
Inside the room there was a table with a large display on top. A chair completed the sparse furnishings. Beyond the monitor she could make out a darkened window into another room.
Mr. Nice pulled out the chair and held it for her. “Sit down,” came the expected order. It was awkward with her hands bound behind her back but she managed to find a comfortable spot. Fortunately, the chair had a cutout in back to accommodate her hands.
He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Listen carefully. In a few minutes further instructions will appear on the screen.” He gestured toward the display screen. “Until then you are to remain seated. Do not stand up. You will not look around or turn back toward the door, even if you hear it open. It is important you verbally answer any questions that appear on the display as concisely and honestly as possible. I’m going to leave you on your own, though I will be nearby at all times. Can I count on you to do as you’re told?”
“Yes, sir,” Darla replied. Her assignment was simple enough, though it was puzzling. Why a computer monitor? It seemed so impersonal, which was unusual considering the way the men in this place seemed to delight in personally ordering her around. The constant pressure of the cuffs on her wrists, forcing her to keep her hands close behind her back, was an insistent reminder of who was in charge. There’s a reason I feel confused. It’s intentional, she thought.
The Warden’s hand disappeared from her shoulder. Darla heard the door behind her open and close. She was tempted to look back over shoulder to see if he really left her alone, but that wasn’t allowed. What’s happening to me? A few words from a stranger and I can’t move?
There was no way she was really on her own in this room. There had to be a camera, somewhere. Her escort, Mr. Nice, could be standing on the other side of that door, watching her on his phone, ready to burst in at the first sign of disobedience. Just the thought of disappointing him kept her eyes fixed on the display screen.
How long did she have to wait for something to happen? As long as it takes, she had to admit, with a rueful smile. As it turned out, that wasn’t very long. She saw a shadowy silhouette enter the room behind the glass wall separating her from the other side. It was too dark to recognize who it was, but something in the outline suggested it was a man.
The monitor on the table woke up. At first all she saw was the blinking cursor in the upper left corner. She kept shifting her gaze back and forth between the display and the mysterious figure opposite her. Suddenly, text appeared on the screen.
You will remain silent until a question appears. You will verbally answer immediately when I ask a question. I expect you to keep on topic and not try to evade or deflect the question. Your cooperation is mandatory. If I’m not satisfied with your effort then you will be punished for your intransigence. Your future depends on what happens in here, so it would be wise on your part to not hold back.
There wasn’t a question, so Darla kept quiet. What was her outlook going forward? Whatever it was, chances were she’d be the last one to know. The best she could hope for was one or two clues inadvertently revealed from the forthcoming questions.
Before I start, you need to be informed of recent developments. You don’t know me, and for now we’ll keep it that way. I have made arrangements with the Center to assume responsibility for you. I will not explain what that means, other than to say from now on I will be making major decisions on your behalf. As far as you are concerned, consider yourself to be my property from this moment forward. Adjust your thinking to see yourself in those terms. Although you answer to me first, you will continue to follow Center regulations and obey the Wardens.
Darla stared at the anonymous man hidden in the shadows. His property? What did that mean? Is he my owner? Even as she silently asked the question, she was certain as to its meaning. Her session with Paula had left no doubt. The outline of the man hidden in the shadows had taken over. Without asking, without any care for what she thought. He wanted her; he would have her, on his terms, and Darla realized she was unable to resist the power of her new owner.
This session is confidential, between the two of us. There are no surveillance cameras or microphones. The Director, the Review Board, even the Wardens are not watching. You will not discuss what happens here with anyone, even if ordered to do so. My directives supersede all others.
Was it true? Darla had no reason to doubt what he was saying, though it seemed unusual.
This is my first question. I want an immediate answer, no hesitation. Do you belong here, in the Center?
She had the response. Still, it was difficult to put into words. “I apologize, sir, but that is a question I cannot answer. If, as you say, I am your property then you will choose for me. If my presence at the Center is in my best interest, in your judgment, then yes, I belong here.”
Even as she spoke Darla couldn’t believe what she was hearing. What has happened to me? The display went blank. Glancing up through the darkened window she saw his profile, unmoving.
This is the next question. Your hands are bound behind your back. You might have noticed this is a common occurrence since your arrival. There’s no reason, as far as security goes, for this. I’m sure you are not going to overpower a Warden and escape. Does the fact you must wear the handcuffs anyway bother you?
There’s a reason for everything in here. That was Darla’ first reaction. She leaned forward and brought her hands around to her side, as much as the overly restrictive hinged cuffs allowed. “If I had a choice, no, I would decline being handcuffed. It’s very frustrating, not being able to use my hands. And I have to depend on a Warden to take them off. Yes, they bother me, but I’d add I’m sure I don’t know the whole story.” She flexed her hands. “There must be a purpose that’s not obvious to me.”
Very perceptive of you. There is a point to the exercise, though you may not like it. You see, it is very attractive, seeing your hands in the small of your back, bound in steel bracelets, so powerless, dependent on your escort for both help and release.
Darla looked up from the screen to the shadowy figure in the window. She’d never really thought about what went on inside a guy’s head when he was busy placing her in bondage. She had always focused on her own enjoyment of the moment, though she was aware men had to find something of value as well.
You have graduated from the training program. However, for reasons I will not explain you will remain in the Secure Area. You will conduct yourself in a manner appropriate to your new status as a resident of the Center. One last question, can you offer any credible reason I should not act as I see fit, regarding you?
How can I answer a question like that? Although she didn’t reply immediately, Darla wasn’t trying to dodge the question. For some time now she’d been forced to submit to men who claimed to be acting in her best interest, albeit without her approval or consent. Mr. G had been the first, when he essentially kidnapped her by refusing to release her from his private dungeon. Instead of a plane ride back to Los Angeles he’d sent her to the Center. And now there was another man in her life, who had simply walked in and taken over, while remaining anonymous. Aside from a few halfhearted protests she’d accepted their power over her, without seriously questioning it. Maybe the Center was the right place for her.
Frank Discussion
The Warden jerked on the bars to make sure the door to the cell was locked before he turned and left. Darla went to her bed to sit down and rest after another long day. Alisha did the same. Darla silently gave thanks Alisha obeyed the rules and kept her feet on the floor.
“Do you think they’ll ever let us go?” Alisha’s voice had a distinct tone of despair.
“Yes, I do,” Darla answered, trying to add a note of confidence. “This is a phase we must go through, that’s what I believe. They don’t intend to harm us.”
“A phase? You’ve got to be joking.” Alisha shook her head in disbelief. “So, you’ve drunk the Kool-Aid too?” Darla recognized the reference to that religious cult that had committed mass suicide at the behest of their leader, by drinking poisoned Kool-Aid.
Darla didn’t reply. So what if I did, she thought. Nothing had actually changed, as far as her living conditions, yet she was seeing it all from an entirely new perspective. She had a purpose, and a man, her master, who would hold her to account if she failed him. While she listened to Alisha go on and on about how bad off they were, to Darla it was just so much noise.
“Do you ever think about how badly you’ve messed up your life?” Darla finally interrupted, trying to put an end of Alisha’s rant.
She did stop but stared at Darla with an indignant expression. “Messed up my life? What do you know? You’re the one with the problems, giving in to all this!” Alisha swept her arms around their cell. “I’m not buying what these guys are selling. I was happy with my life. I don’t need a change.”
Darla shook her head. “You protest too much. You’re miserable; it’s obvious to anyone who can stand to listen to you. No social life, a dead-end career in a dying profession, and no prospects for improvement. Take a hard look at your life. All I’ve heard is an unending series of bad decisions. Maybe it’s time someone else cleaned up the mess.”
Alisha was so angry she couldn’t speak. Unable to storm out of the room she jumped up and went to the bars, her back to Darla. In spite of her temper tantrum Alisha did manage enough self-control to remember their recent training. She stopped short of the blue, forbidden zone, stripe of paint on the floor.
The significance wasn’t lost on Darla. “Look,” she began,” I didn’t mean to be rude…”
“I don’t want to discuss it,” Alisha snapped. “Leave me alone.”
A Change
When Darla entered the room there wasn’t much to see. There was a table and chair, a row of sheet metal lockers along one wall, and another door at the far side. On the wall behind the table there was a sign mounted on the wall, announcing that this was a “Secure Area” followed by a list of familiar rules.
The admonition warning that all females must wear a collar and “control belt”, a euphemism for the chastity belt fastened around her waist and between her legs, seemed a bit redundant. Both were locked on her body, and would remain there until a Warden decided to produce the keys. The requirements were prominently displayed, as per the next line dealing with a prohibition on clothes. The edict about being escorted wasn’t necessary either; the Warden’s hand gripping her arm filled that particular regulation.
The sign was the oddity in the room. Why was it there? How many months had she lived with those rules in her daily life? The line about not wearing clothes was perhaps the most ironic. The last time she’d seen anything more than the chains she now had on was the day of her arrival, when her dress had been shredded.
“Face the wall. Don’t move. No talking.” Those short, crisp commands delivered in that quiet yet so powerful tone of voice held her in position when he let go of her arm. Darla heard him pull out the chair before he sat down at the table. He was close by, practically at her side, yet she dared not risk a glance to check.
Though she would obey any Warden, once again her guard was Mr. Nice. She would miss seeing him when her owner finally came for her. She kept her back ramrod straight, her bound hands resting precisely centered in the small of her back, and her feet were exactly the right distance apart to lift the chain connecting her ankles off the floor. If, or better when he checked, everything had to be as perfect as was possible. To please him she’d stand against the wall for hours, until she collapsed from exhaustion.
The Wardens were deliberately cold, distant, and unapproachable. All the women knew the reason why, to prevent becoming attached to one of them. That was the theory. It didn’t work for Darla. Each time she saw Mr. Nice, her nickname since she had no clue what his real name was, all she could think of was to find some way for him to notice her. Considering the environment in the Secure Area that wasn’t easy. Her friend Trina had shown Darla the way.
Darla didn’t miss the way the men looked at Trina when she was in the same group. It wasn’t that she was a stunning beauty; in fact, many of the women outshone her in that respect. It wasn’t physical appearance that made her stand out. Rather it was the way she seemed to carry a certain aura, a sense that she was the embodiment of all that the Center tried to instill in the women confined in the Secure Area. Trina never made mistakes; she was respectful to the men even in private conversation, and her way of standing, kneeling or sitting spoke of a commitment to obedience no man could resist.
Maybe she’s had more time to perfect her skills, but that doesn’t stop me from walking the same path. Darla kept her eyes on the wall, instead relying on her ears to provide some hint as to what he was doing. He stood up, slid back the chair, and walked over to the lockers.
He was behind her now. No sounds came to her, which meant he must be inspecting her. Let him look, I know he won’t find a single fault. That was a point of pride for Darla. Even Trina, with all her skills, might match but never surpass me. If only Mr. Nice were able to understand how her attitude had changed since her arrival, then he’d know how important it was for her to impress him.
There was a rattle from a sheet metal locker door swinging open. Darla was dying of curiosity to see what was inside, although her compulsion to remain in place still held. She could hear him rummaging through the contents. I’ll find out when he decides I need to know. The Center had done well in teaching her to be patient, and to accept those in authority knew best. That included withholding information if they deemed it in her best interest. Or if they just want to prove how thorough their level of control is over me. That particular habit was one of the most irritating restrictions she had grudgingly learned to accept.
Suddenly the shackles on her ankles were opened and removed. The handcuffs followed. That’s odd, why isn’t he maintaining full control? The room was too small to be used for any kind of training class, so what was going on?
“Turn around,” he ordered. Over his shoulder Darla finally saw the locker contents. Her eyes grew wide when she recognized clothes from her apartment closet. How did they find their way to the Center, and more important, what were they doing anywhere near her? She was staring at what was clearly contraband, strictly prohibited, no exceptions. It made her nervous being in the same room.
He must have sensed her discomfort. Placing his hands on her shoulders he began. “Look at me. I can see you’re concerned, as you should be. I want to reassure you I have the authorization to override regulations in this section of the Secure Area.” He nodded his head toward that sign listing the rules.
“This is what will happen next. When I tell you to begin, you will get dressed. I picked this dress out because I liked it. I want to see how well it suits you. You will not be punished for following my instructions. Use everything in the locker, including the underwear and the shoes. You will do as you’re told. I don’t want to see any hesitation. When you finish you will stand in front of the table and wait for me.”
That matter-of-fact way he had of issuing orders appealed to Darla. It wasn’t a request, more an assumption she would complete her assignment without any further intervention on his part. He trusted her; to disappoint him now was unthinkable. The moment he returned to the table, sat down and waved his hand she was at the locker, reaching in to take a quick inventory.
Within minutes she was slipping the dress over her head. It was a familiar part of her old wardrobe, a pastel yellow shift that dropped to just above her knees. It was sleeveless but not too revealing. She had originally selected it as suitable for the office in summertime, bright, feminine and cheery. She smoothed out the wrinkles before slipping her feet into the low-heeled sandals. Carefully she knelt down to fasten the ankle straps, making sure he had a nice view of her legs.
Despite his assurances she wasn’t in trouble there was still that little voice in the back of her head, going on and on about spending a week in time out, buried in that nightmarish wall. She went to her designated spot in front of the table, split between the enjoyment that comes with ending months of nudity and the anxiety of a nagging feeling of being disobedient.
Mr. Nice, the Warden, was busy entering something on a tablet. From her angle she couldn’t read what was on the screen, which must be intentional. Training took over, dictating she wait for him, arms at her side, feet slightly apart. That was the right way; she didn’t have to guess.
He didn’t rush to finish whatever he was entering. Finally, he cleared the tablet and slipped it into a desk drawer. Only then did he look up at Darla. He leaned back in his chair, folded his arms and gave her an appraising once-over any woman would recognize immediately. He wants me!
“Well done. Here in the Secure Area, the absence of clothes does make the heart grow fonder for a bit of fashion. That color is very attractive. We’re done here, but before we leave, I want to go over some instructions for you.”
Change of Venue
The change in Darla’s attitude was remarkable. Sam had to admit the Center’s program occasionally yielded some amazing results. Darla had arrived in a state of confusion, mixed with anxiety and more than a little terrified of what had happened to her, though she never admitted to it. The woman standing before him now displayed a perceptible attitude full of confidence and pride. Though the conditions in the Secure Area were harsh she had prevailed, flourishing as she came to terms with her inner self.
How would the day end for the two of them? Sam hoped for the best, yet he recognized the risks that came with his decision to end her stay in the Secure Area. If she rejected him then there would be no alternative but to return her where she now stood, except she’d be entering rather than exiting. Putting off the moment of truth wasn’t going to help. It was time to act.
“We’re at the entrance to the Secure Area. Beyond that door,” he pointed to the exit, “are the living quarters for the rest of the Center.” He stood up. “This is your graduation, Darla. There will be no more Wardens, no cells with bars, no restraints to control your movements. The review committee has determined you are ready to join our little society.”
She had the presence of mind to keep her position, even though Sam could tell the news came as a shock. “Rely on your training in here; the rules you follow won’t change. However, there are some new requirements that you must keep in mind. Foremost, and this won’t come as a surprise, never forget the Center is based on male domination and gender specific roles. There is no ‘woke’ here. You will continue to show proper respect for those in charge, and you will obey those in authority over you at all times. You will discover that respect goes both ways; you can rightfully expect to be shown the utmost courtesy in return. If you ever need help of any kind, someone will be there to assist you. Follow the rules, accept your place among us, and you will lack for nothing.”
Sam had spent hours last night working on that speech. To his ears it sounded paternalistic and insincere, though Darla, judging from the expression on her face, didn’t take it that way. It was difficult to say exactly what she was feeling. Eagerness, excitement, maybe yearning? The evening was just beginning; she had no clue as to what was coming.
“When we go through that door, this is what will happen. You are forbidden to speak to anyone but me, and I mean anyone, man or woman, regardless of circumstances. You will stay close to me at all times. One more item, you need to know my name. It’s Sam, Samuel Littleton. You will continue to address me, and all men, using ‘sir’. We’ll discuss that in more detail later.”
“In a moment I’m going to lift your order to be silent. I know you have a long list of questions. I’ll ask you to hold off for a little longer. I promise everything you need to know I’ll provide shortly. Can I trust you, Darla, to behave and not cause trouble? You have permission to speak.”
She took a deep breath before answering. “I’ll do my best, sir. If I make a mistake, you will stop me right away? I’m about to burst with questions, but I’ll try to keep my curiosity in check until you decide it’s time. Sir, are you my owner?”
Sam nodded. “Yes, I am. I was that shadowy figure asking you questions anonymously. You belong to me. For what it’s worth, I am very possessive. If I see the least sign of deliberate disobedience, I guarantee you’ll be back here in record time.” He fixed her with an intense state. “You won’t disappoint me.”
Darla didn’t know what to say or do. Yet, that wasn’t a problem. “What should I do next, sir?”
Homeward Bound
After all these months she finally learned his name. “Sam” seemed to fit the man who had become the center of her little world. No more Mr. Nice, she almost laughed at the thought. His last words stuck in her head, “You won’t disappoint me.”
To anyone else it might sound like a threat. She didn’t interpret it that way. To the casual observer it might come across a steel fist inside a velvet glove. Darla had the benefit of experience with her former Mr. Nice. It was his way of stating a simple fact with his particular brand of self-confidence. No threat was necessary, because she wasn’t going to disappoint him.
When he took a step toward her she automatically turned to face the wall, while carefully placing her hands behind her back. Wherever they were going it was still in the Center, which meant the rules had to be followed. The sign on the wall made that clear; females must be restrained while being escorted.
Her move caught Sam by surprise, though once he thought about it, she had done the right thing. “Outside the Secure Area the restraint rules aren’t in effect. In fact, as long as you have permission you don’t have to be escorted, unless you’re headed to a restricted area. However, I’m adding a condition. When I’m escorting you the restraint rule does apply, no matter where you are. Don’t worry about being singled out; everyone is aware there are some women who are subject to special restrictions. You did well, by the way. I’m quite pleased with how you reacted. Don’t change.”
Reaching behind his back he took out the pair of handcuffs he always carried. Slowly he closed the cuffs around her wrists, the sound of the ratchet echoed loudly in the silence. “Do you know why you aren’t granted the same privileges as other women outside the Secure Area? I’ll share the secret with you.” He ran his fingers around the steel bracelets. “It’s because you like this as much as I do.”
The Open Door
“Say goodbye to school. Once you go through that door your life starts over. You have no history prior to today. No one will ever question you about your past life. There’s no prohibition if you choose to bring up the subject, but never ask anyone else unless they mention it first. As part of that new outlook, you no longer have a last name. Never use it again. You are simply ‘Darla’. If you need to be properly identified, there’s a registration number stamped on your collar.”
Sam opened the exit door. He held it, gesturing for her to go first. The change was remarkable. On this side the hallway was carpeted, there was soft, indirect lighting, the walls were painted in pastel colors, and the door he closed behind them had a sign on it. She did spot the blue stripe on the floor in front of the entrance to the Secure Area. That was one convention that didn’t change.
“The Secure Area is off limits to you. Unless you have specific instructions, you are not to approach this door or loiter nearby. If you are ordered to report here, then push the buzzer to announce yourself.”
Sam caught her glance down at the broad blue stripe in front of the door. “The meaning is the same out here,” he explained. “You do not cross blue lines on the floor, unless you are escorted.”
“Yes, sir,” Darla replied. It was a clever solution, even though it relied on the honor system, to mark off restricted areas. Boundaries, she thought, I need those markers or I wouldn’t know where to stop.
She looked up at Sam. “Sir? Will I be allowed to go outside? I miss the outdoors, sunlight, a fresh breeze, even walking barefoot through grass.”
Sam nodded. “Yes, I’ll see to it you get some time ‘up top’, as we call it. There’s no way for you to know The Center is almost all underground. I’m afraid the outside is just desert, no grass lawns, but there’s plenty of sun. You can’t go by yourself though. You have to be escorted by your owner, or someone he designates.”
The restrictions didn’t bother Darla. Rules like that existed to protect her, even if it wasn’t clear how it actually worked. “Sir? Is it true? Do I really belong to you?”
Sam placed his hands on her shoulders, holding her at arm’s length. “Yes, and yes. Here in the Center, we have our own legal system. The collar you wear marks you as property. The number stamped on the collar indicates I own you. It’s all too true. Doubt it at your peril.” He frowned, trying to be serious to make his point.
“Yes, sir. I was just checking. What do we do now?” She looked up and down the corridor.
“Now we go home.” Sam took hold of Darla’s arm to show her the way to her new life.