Author: Hoop
Title: Incarceration Ch.3 
Part: Chapter 3
Summary: Claire is induced to perform cunnilingus on another prisoner.
Keywords: bd, nc, oral, sad


Claire awoke, and pulled the blanket around her shoulders against air that was just a little too cool to be comfortable. She had dozed uneasily after her initial awakening. 

The attendants had appeared again, returning Laura to the cell. They had thrust the naked girl inside, and thrown a clean jumpsuit in after her before locking the door. Presently, Laura was putting on the garment, although her movements were a little stiff.

"What was it this time?" Claire ventured.

"Don't want to talk about it."

"...that bad?"

"Pretty bad, yeah." Laura leaned back against the wall before sliding down to a sitting position, sucking air through her teeth as her butt touched the floor. She adjusted her position very carefully. Claire emerged from the blanket and slid alongside her.

"Any luck remembering how you got here?" she asked.

"Nope. I can't place anything from the last week or so. I don't know, might be longer." She shut her eyes and sighed. "You?"

"Nothing yet. My memory's kinda fuzzy. D'you think they did something to us? To make us forget, somehow?"

"No doubt."

It didn't look like Laura was in the mood to answer questions. The pair of them sat awhile in silence. Claire stood briefly to fold the blanket into a neat bundle, and, having now exhausted all possibilities for things to do, sat back down.

"I think we're getting someone else in here," said Laura. "Heard the attendants talking. 641, I think her number is."

"Do those numbers actually mean anything?"

Laura shrugged. "There can't be over six hundred of us. Christ, I hope there aren't. We never see anywhere near that number in the mess hall, anyway."

"A new person..." 

The door swung open. A single attendant stepped through. "On your feet, 314."

Claire stood warily.
"Get over here. You have a new piece of attire."
She went over to the attendant. Laura watched from her position on the floor. The attendant held up a wide metal ring, about an inch thick all around. He undid a clasp, and it hung open on a hinge.
"Your collar," he said. "Put it on." He handed it to Claire. It was heavy in her hands. The metal was smooth and matte. Small rings were set into its surface at several points. She hesitated.

"Now, 314."
She raised the collar to her neck. Its surface was cool against her throat. The attendant unravelled a length of chain from around his belt and passed it through his hands impatiently.

Claire brought the two halves together, and felt the collar lock around her neck. The attendant threaded one end of a broken chain link through its attachment point, and secured the chain by screwing a bolt into place. Nothing that could be unfastened quicker than a few seconds, she noted. She stumbled forward as the attendant gave the chain a hard yank.

"Off we go," he said. Claire had zero choice in the matter as she was hauled out by her neck, almost tripping as she tried to keep up. The attendant locked the cell, and set off at a brisk pace down the corridor, forcing Claire into a half-jog to keep up with him. 

"You are privileged today," he said flatly. "You're going to be helping us with a new arrival."
Claire was never sure whether the attendants expected her to answer back. Sometimes they ignored her. Other times would result in a harsh prod or slap as means of punishment for talking back. Once she had been jabbed with some sort of electrical device. 

They reached their destination. It was the same room Claire had been in yesterday, although the furniture had been rearranged. A reclined chair now occupied the room's centre, with a pair of ankle restraints set far apart. More loose belts hung from the armrests and back. The same brown-haired girl from the previous day looked up as Claire was lead in.

"Ah. 314. Excellent." She walked over, carrying a white, long-sleeved garment bundled in her arms. It bore a multitude of straps and buckles. "Suit off."
Claire muttered under her breath as she stripped. The thing that annoyed her was not that she was forced to comply - precisely the opposite, in fact: they rarely seemed to use force against her, but, ultimately, resisting only delayed what was going to happen anyway, at the cost of angering her captors. She kicked the jumpsuit away to one side, giving the other girl a sullen look.

"Arms out in front, 314."
She did as she was told. The other girl held up the straitjacket and worked its sleeves up Claire's arms. She and the attendant switched places as the girl fastened the zipper that ran up the back of the garment, before securing the adjustable straps that ensured it fit snugly around Claire's body. Next was the pair of straps which looped beneath Claire's crotch, fastened to the waist. She tightened them unsympathetically. Claire could feel them biting into a quite sensitive area.

Finally, the crossed sleeves were buckled together behind Claire's back, hugging herself within the confines of the straitjacket. The attendant fastened the other end of the collar chain to an attachment point on the wall, tethering her with a short length. Claire tested the jacket for any signs of looseness, and was disappointed to find that it afforded her arms no freedom of movement whatsoever. The canvas made a rustling noise as she twisted her body against it.

"One more thing." The brown-haired girl held a shape of smooth, black material in her hand, a wide elastic strap hanging from it in a loop. Basically, it was a sleeping mask, although slightly heavier-looking, with less attention paid to the comfort of the wearer. The girl placed the blindfold over Claire's eyes, and slid the strap over her head. The fit was quite tight, and it was completely effective in shutting out all light. Claire blinked, and felt soft nylon against her eyelids. 

She half-heard a few quiet words exchanged between the girl and the attendant, and then the door opened and shut. She nudged forward cautiously, and bumped into the wall. She rubbed her head against it, trying to shift the blindfold, but it seemed well-fitted and wasn't shifting. She sighed, and bent her knees to sit down. She choked as the collar reached the end of its slightly-too-short tether. It looked like she would be standing while she waited, then.

---

There was a satisfying crack as Emma's foot connected with the faceplate of one of the burly figures attempting to pin her down. He staggered backwards, and Emma let out a cry of frustration as another stepped in to grab her ankle with both hands, before she had the chance to bring it back for another kick. Her left leg had already been fastened to the bench with a thick zip-tie, and another pair of men had set about binding her wrists together. With her last free limb now being grappled, her struggles were considerably less effective.

"Fuck you!" she screamed, "let me go! What the fuck is this?"
 
"Got quite a mouth on her," one of the faceless figures said. "Getting a bit tired of it."
She opened her mouth to yell at them some more, and then from behind her, one of the attendants reached over her head with a ball gag held between his hands. He shoved it into her mouth and cinched the strap tightly around the back of her neck, securing the soft, slightly-yielding ball between her jaws. Her furious protests became a much less coherent combination of muffled noises.

"That's better," he said.

With all the zip-ties now secured, Emma lay face-up on the bench with her limbs hanging downwards, secured to the bench's legs. A pair of attendants set about snipping at her clothes with scissors, cutting seams that allowed the easy removal of her top, although they had significant trouble with her jeans. A few more snips saw the removal of her undergarments, and soon she was laid completely bare, with the lights giving her skin a fluorescent pallor. A brown-haired girl was standing off to one side, making notes on a tablet. The attendants were talking somewhere behind her.

"Take her to room 10," she said. "You'll probably have to carry her, though. They're always a bit feisty at first." 

One of the attendants' blank faceplates appeared as he leaned over her. "Don't do anything stupid like trying to escape. It'll only make your life significantly more difficult. Oh, and your name is now 'number 641'. Remember it. Although," he said, brandishing a syringe with an unusually broad needle, "this'll make it official."

He took hold of her hand, and she made the best attempt she could at a screaming as she felt the needle pierce the flesh on the back of her hand. There was a bulging sensation as something was pushed out from the end of the needle, and then it was withdrawn. The attendant placed a plaster over the small wound.

"RFID chip," he said. "So we'll know where you are. Always."

Emma tried her best to make it hard for the attendants as they set about freeing her from the table. She did manage to land another solid kick on one of them, but she was starting to get worn out. By the time they were dragging her out of the room by her arms, she was kicking at the air, making angry mewling noises.

She was hauled through several stretches of corridor before they reached their eventual destination. The brown-haired girl entered first, and the attendants wrestled Emma over to a chair that was set in the middle of the room. They strapped her in by her arms, locking her ankles into a pair of stirrups which were set uncomfortably far apart. Another set of thicker straps bound her thighs to the chair, holding them wide.

There was another girl in the room, she noticed. She was standing against the opposite wall, bound up in a straitjacket and blindfolded. The brown-haired girl was in the process of unfastening the chain that held her to the wall by her collar.

"This is number 314," she said. "She's well on her way to becoming quite the obedient little slave. Just like you will be, in time." She walked over to the chair, leading the blindfolded girl by her neck. She stooped down and attached the collar chain to the base of the chair, forcing the other girl to kneel. The length of the chain was such that the girl's face was brought level with Emma's crotch, which was spread wide and exposed by her spaced ankles. The girl's breath tickled against intimate parts of Emma's anatomy.

"Put your tongue out, 314."
The blindfolded girl cautiously opened her mouth, and extended her tongue. She flinched backwards when it first bumped against the soft area between Emma's legs.

"314. You are to pleasure this girl." 

Emma glared. "mmph-mm," she said.

"Oh, we'll see about that. You see," she said, "the thing that makes it interesting is that collar around 314's neck." 

The brown-haired girl picked up her computer tablet and clicked the stylus from its holder, making a few strokes on the screen. She tapped once, and the blindfolded girl jerked her head backwards with a surprised yelp of pain.

"Just a small electrical jolt. But 314 needs to develop her skills, so I'm going to continue to administer the shocks, until she provides you with complete satisfaction. So, I suppose it doesn't come down to how uncooperative you're feeling about me," she tapped the stylus again, and 314 let out another cry, "rather, it's about how much sympathy you feel for her. Oh, and no faking. I can tell."

The blindfolded girl had already started to run the tip of her tongue up along Emma's genitals. She dutifully lapped her tongue against them, occasionally switching direction from long, upward strokes to briefer, downwards ones, flicking the underside of her tongue out from her teeth. She shuffled forwards on her knees, burying her face further in and extending her tongue as far as she could, pressing the wet surface up against Emma's cunt. She jerked back suddenly as the brown-haired girl tapped again with the stylus. Emma looked across at her. She was smiling to herself, tracing the stylus back and forth across the tablet.

Emma felt the tongue-tip slide along the inner edge of her lips, up towards the top of the cleft. She despised the idea of the others watching and  neither was she particularly keen on having another girl doing such intimate things with her. She felt as if she should be doing more to try and resist, but kept coming back to consider the plight of the second girl, who let out another short cry as her collar punished her. The sooner she climaxed, or appeared to climax, the sooner it would be over for both of them. 

Emma writhed in the chair, arching her back against the restraints and making moaning noises around her gag. She clenched her fists, squirming her thighs and grinding her cunt against the blindfolded girl's mouth. After a few moments tensing her muscles, she relaxed, allowing her head to droop to one side. She breathed heavily. The blindfolded girl cautiously ceased her activities.

"I'm supposed to believe that's it? You're a poor actor, 641." The brown-haired girl came over to the chair, and reached down to slide a pair of fingers against Emma's pussy. "You're barely even wet," she said. "Pathetic. Although it's not you who'll pay for that."

She traced a line on her screen before tapping again, and the blindfolded girl let out a loud, drawn-out cry as her collar administered a long electrical pulse, which continued for many seconds. "Gaaah! Jesus, Fuck!" she cried, "Stop! Please!"

The brown-haired girl administered another, longer shock. The room filled with the girl's cries of pain.

"Now," she said. "Let's try again. 314, carry on."

There was a certain desperation about her as the girl plunged her face into Emma's crotch, lapping hungrily with her tongue. She licked fervently, alternating her efforts between zig-zag patterns across the lips and slower, longer strokes where she twisted her tongue round to push it slightly further in. Whilst Emma couldn't say she found the circumstances in any way arousing, simple physical reaction had her cheeks flushing as her pussy started to moisten. A familiar tingling feeling started to grow as the girl probed around the little bump at the top of her cleft. She kissed at it gently, rubbing it softly with her tongue between interludes where she would trace her way back down and up again, never once breaking pace. Her tongue worked tirelessly.

Emma lay back and tried to imagine she was somewhere else. She winced as she heard another gasp of pain from the girl, and there was a pause before the feeling of the slightly rough surface of her tongue returned. A sort of pressure was building around Emma's crotch - despite her disgust at the overall situation, her excitement was increasing. 

She wiggled her hips to the extent that the chair would allow, thrusting her pussy forward against the girl's tongue. She tensed whatever muscles she could, and let out an involuntary sigh. Balanced on the edge of release, it took another thirty seconds before she was pushed into orgasm by a final sequence of deft tongue-strokes. Genuinely this time, she groaned as the feeling of climax suffused her body, the peak of it gradually subsiding after moments into a warm afterglow. 

The pleasure of it felt so wrong in the context by which it had been brought about. 

Between her legs, the other girl withdrew her tongue. Now finished, she was spitting out the fluids that had made their way into her mouth, scraping her tongue against her teeth as she tried to remove it all. She grimaced, spat, and made retching noises. The brown-haired girl overseeing the activity walked over once more, leaning down to have a close look at the aftermath. She peered at Emma's body, running her fingers across the girl's forehead and satisfying herself that a deal of sweat had built up.

"Looks like we got there in the end," she said. Emma narrowed her eyes at her. 

"You two," she gestured at the attendants. "Take this one to the showers and clean her off. She's assigned to room 8." She prodded at the girl in the straitjacket. "This one's room 8 as well. But she's all right here for now, you can move her back later on. No hurry. Oh, and you'll be going by the lab on your way out. Tell Zoe I'm still waiting for that synthesis scheme."

The attendants set to work unbinding Emma from the chair. They bundled her out into the corridor. Just before they left, Emma could see the brown-haired girl kneeling down behind 314, resting her chin on the girl's shoulder and running her fingers through her hair. 

"What should I do with you now, I wonder?"
