Author: Hoop

Title: Incarceration Ch.10 

Part: Chapter 10

Summary: Helen has Claire clean her feet with her tongue. Emma is induced to pleasure her afterwards.

Keywords: FF, bd, nc, toys, feet



Without anybody else sharing the cell, trivial concerns were able to occupy Claire's mind entirely. Her head itched, and the fact that her wrists were bound at her waist somehow made it a lot worse. She was bent over at a strange angle, rubbing her head against the wall, when Laura was brought back.

She was different now, somehow. She didn't say anything after the attendants left. She curled up in one corner of the room with her head between her knees, fingers crossed behind her head. Laura had been freed of her restraint set, and was clothed in white panties and a white camisole. 

"Hey," said Claire, "you OK?"

The girl looked up at her. Her eyes were watery, her eyelids lined red.

"No," she said.

Claire shuffled over to sit alongside her. Laura's arms were around her almost immediately, her face buried against Claire's neck as her body shook. It was an awkward, one-sided embrace, with Claire unable to raise her arms. The best she could manage was to hold Laura's hand.

They sat apart after Laura had got the worst out of her system. A few hours later, the door opened wide enough to admit a tray bearing food that was pushed through - a pair of bowls containing some kind of red stew, and rolls of bread. It was necessary for Laura to feed Claire her half of the meal.

Later still, Claire was taken from the cell. The routes through sterile-looking corridors were starting to become familiar; Claire recognised her destination as the room where, two days ago, she had spent a few long hours straitjacketed, blindfolded and receiving electric jolts from a shock collar. She had been able to understand the first part of that ordeal - the part when she had been induced to bring Emma to climax using her tongue - but the hours that had followed that had seemed to be torment without reason. Helen had stayed in the room after the attendants took Emma away. She had gagged Claire, and then amused herself by delivering surge after surge of electricity into her helpless body. She remembered the soft sounds of her laughter, and the later, quieter noises she made as she had masturbated to Claire's cries of pain.

Helen was in the room when they arrived. She sat in a high-backed chair and clothed in a simple black dress of some light, floaty material. It looked out-of-place above her industrial-grade boots: heavy leather enclosed her feet and calves, rising to just below her knees. They were shiny and black, with far more buckles than could possibly be practical. The rolled-down tops of her thick socks were visible above them.

She was sitting opposite an electric heater for some reason. With her feet so close to it, Claire wondered why she would subject herself to such unnecessary discomfort. As the attendants brought her closer, she could in fact see that the girl's dress was clinging to her thighs.

"Have her kneel," said Helen.

A leather belt was laid on the floor before Claire. The attendant instructed her to kneel, and then he fastened the belt over the top of her thighs, holding her legs tucked under her. At Helen's gesture, they removed the electric heater, and she shifted the chair so that she was sitting in front of Claire. She crossed her legs, and as she did so, Claire caught a momentary glimpse of the girl's panties. They were white, with little strawberries printed on them.

Her fingers played with the first strap at the top of her boot. She unfastened it, and moved on to the second, her mouth twitching into a salacious grin.

"It'll be good to get these off," she said.

She took her time unfastening the rest of the buckles, and then she crossed her legs over to do the same with the other boot. She undid the zippers that ran along the inside edges, and, ever so slowly, proceeded to wriggle her feet out of the heavy footwear. She set them down alongside the chair. Her thick socks were blotchy, with dark patches where white had turned to grey. She leaned back, raised her foot off the ground, and placed her sole against Claire's face. 

The material of her sock was damp. Claire winced and tried to turn her head away, but Helen followed her, keeping her foot pressed against her face. Eventually she had to breathe in. The girl's odour was quite unpleasant, equal parts leather and sweat. She could hear Helen laughing.

"You like that, 314? Do you enjoy the feel my sweaty feet against your face?"

"Helen, I ca-mmgh", said Claire, her sentence interrupted by the girl's toes slipping into her mouth. She pulled her head backwards, grimacing.

"You'd better get used to it, 314," said Helen. She drew her foot away, and Claire's mouth contorted as she tried to expel the taste, spitting onto the floor. Helen rolled her socks down slowly and removed them, revealing the bare skin of her feet, which were slick and moist.

"Oh god, that feels so much better," she said. 

"Now," she crossed her legs again, bringing a foot inches away from Claire's face, "clean them."

Claire hesitated, and Helen's sole smothered against her face once more. The wetness of her bare skin was much worse than her socks, which were at least a little absorbent. The belt around Claire's thighs precluded her from shuffling backwards, and she was forced to endure both of the girl's feet pressing against her face until Helen planted them on the floor and leaned forward, bringing Claire face-to-face with her by placing a finger beneath her chin and raising her head.

"You can take as long as you like," she said. "They're not going to clean themselves."

Her foot rested in the air with a grim inevitability, inches from Claire's nose. She opened her mouth, closing her eyes as if the inability to see would somehow distance her from the act, and leaned forward. She felt the soft, round end of Helen's big toe against her tongue, and she closed her lips around it, sucking gently. Her mouth filled with a salty taste, adulterated with other, less palatable flavours. Her lips parted to let out a nondescript sound of disgust, and then she set to work, licking the girl's toes. Helen raised and tilted her foot slightly, and Claire drew her tongue in a long trail from the heel to the toes. She looked up to see that Helen was biting her lip, her chest shivering as she tried to contain her response to the ticklish sensation that Claire's tongue was providing her with. It was obvious that she was enjoying herself.

The soft sounds of Helen's enjoyment mingled with quiet suckling noises as Claire worked her way along each of the girl's toes. She splayed them out so that Claire could devote her full attention to each one individually. She seemed to derive particular pleasure from Claire running her tongue through the gaps between them.

Perhaps, she thought, Helen was testing her. Maybe if she did a good job of this, Helen might treat her better. She had been gentle with Zoe so far - although admittedly that girl didn't seem to have had many opportunities to be uncooperative. Laura had been less compliant, and she had been made to endure the particularly nasty consequences of Claire's force-feeding session yesterday. Maybe it was best to go along with it.

"Hey," said Helen, "don't just sit there with my foot in your mouth. Get licking."

She resumed her activities obediently. The taste was starting to fade, which probably meant she had covered most of Helen's foot by now. Claire gave a quiet groan as she realised it was time to start on the next one, and then Helen swapped her feet over, providing a new set of moist toes for her to work over with her mouth. She was more attentive this time, rolling her tongue in circles around the digits between langourous strokes of her tongue's tip along the sides and upper skin.

"That's good, 314. You're getting the hang of it now, aren't you?"

Claire finished off the big toe with a light kiss on its tip, and then found her head pushed back as Helen shoved her foot forward. Their eyes met.

"Aren't you, 314? Say it."

"Y-yeth," said Claire, around a mouthful of foot.

"It almost seems to me that you're enjoying it, 314. Is that right?"

She considered for a moment. Best not to risk undoing her work so far. She couldn't keep the eye contact, though, and looked down demurely as she replied.

"Yeth," she said again.

"That's good to hear, 314. Very good."

She stooped forward from the chair, resting on her haunches in front of Claire. "In fact," she said, "You've just earned yourself a little reward."

The words felt out-of-place to Claire. The preceding days had been nothing but a series of violations, and she had the feeling that a 'reward' would not turn out to be anything like it sounded. 

Helen got up and left, replaced by of the masked attendants. He strode over to Claire, bent over to undo the belt around her thighs, and then paused as something caught his attention. He turned away from her. He picked up one of Helen's boots from beside the chair. He looked around conspiratorially, and Helen saw the black, inner surface of his mask as he pushed it up onto his forehead, before bringing the piece of footwear up to his face and inhaling deeply. He gave a satisfied sigh before very carefully placing the boot back in the exact position it had occupied. 

He pulled his mask back down, and turned back to free Claire's legs. One of her knees made a popping noise as she stood up. She idly wondered why Helen didn't simply keep all the equipment in one big room while she was being led away. She stumbled as she tried to keep up with the attendant, who was tugging her forward with a chain fastened around her waistband. He brought her to a room less austerely furnished than the other cells: there was carpet on the floor, and a bed arranged at the centre of one wall, and laid out with clean, pale blue sheets. Locking cuffs were joined to each corner of the frame with silver chains. 

The attendant pushed her down onto the mattress, and she sat on its edge while he retrieved something from a box beneath the bed. Finding what he sought, he stood upright and kicked the box back underneath. He was holding some kind of cowl - seams in the supple, black leather described the rough shape of a head. The hood was embellished at various points with buckles and attachment points, and there were two rows of silver grommets at the back through which a criss-cross arrangement of laces were threaded.

"Head forward," he said.

Claire stooped towards him slightly. There was a rustling noise as he fussed around with the hood, and then everything went dark as he pulled it down over her head. The fit was tight - it took several tugs until the collar part was around her neck, the lower sides of it flush against her chin and jaw. She noticed for the first time that there was no hole for her mouth, only a pair of small openings for her to breathe through her nose. The hood tightened around her face as the attendant pulled the laces taut, tying them securely and then fastening a buckle at the back of the collar-piece. Her hearing was muted slightly now, and her restricted breathing made the whole affair feel quite claustrophobic. There was a pair of holes in the hood for her eyes, although apparently these were not to be used in this session. The attendant pulled a blindfold down over them. Claire felt her eyelashes brush against much softer material as she blinked out of reflex.

He pushed her down onto the bed, and held her there while he removed her restraint set and deprived her of her clothes. He pulled her arm to one corner of the bed, and set about securing the cuffs, which were lined with plush material on the insides. Claire thought that they didn't feel all that uncomfortable while the attendant was securing them around her limbs. The bed was also unexpectedly soft beneath her.

She thought she heard him leave after that, but she wasn't sure. Being enveloped in the close, stifling darkness of the hood was disorienting. She sank into the mattress, wondering how long she would be left waiting.

---

Emma wasn't sure why she had been taken to a different cell after her ordeal with the attendants. It was considerably more tedious being confined by herself. She had seen a group of them through the doorway in the room adjacent to her new cell as they passed. They had been sitting around a table. One of them was reading a newspaper.

She had been determined to make as much of a nuisance of herself as possible, and had spent a good while lying on her back, kicking her feet against the joining wall and shouting profanities. That had lasted for all of five minutes before three of the men came crashing into her cell, pinning her limbs down with their heavy boots and jabbing at her over and over with their sizzling electric batons. They had laughed as she screamed and pleaded with them to stop. Some of the jabs had left pairs of evenly spaced red marks where the electrodes had pressed against her skin.

She was confined to one corner of the cell after that episode. They tethered her with a length of chain, attached to the wall at one end. The other was padlocked to a ring set in a heavy metal collar they fitted her with. They had strapped some kind of muzzle around her head - a smooth, thick lump of rubbery material was held in her mouth by a rectangle of leather pulled tight against her lips, secured in place by straps that looped behind her neck, as well as over her head and beneath her chin. Over the last twenty-four hours they had fed her once. They had provided her with a plastic bucket for her bodily needs.

Helen didn't say anything when she arrived in Emma's cell, walking barefoot for some reason, carrying her computer tablet under one arm. An attendant unclipped her collar chain from the wall, pulling her to her feet and snapping a pair of cuffs around her wrists before she had time to respond. She was dragged from the room by her neck, with Helen following them. 

She was brought to a room that looked somehow less severe than the others - the floor was carpeted, and there was no sign of heavy metal attachment points or bizarre equipment. There was a bed in the room's centre, and upon it lay an anonymous girl - her head was covered with a black hood, all of her features hidden behind the form-fitting leather. A blindfold covered her eyes, held in place by a thick elastic strap. The leather clinging to her face moved slightly, in time with her breathing. Cuffs around her ankles and wrists held her naked body spread out.

"You remember the other day?" said Helen. "When I had 314 see to you with her tongue?"

Helen sat upon the side of the bed while she waited for a response. She trailed her finger down the bound girl's body, from her sternum to her navel, reversing and repeating the motion. Emma nodded once, slowly.

"Well, now I want you to do the same for this girl here," she said. She clicked her fingers at the attendant. "The monitor, please."

The man produced some kind of bracelet from his pocket, and fastened it around the bound girl's wrist above her shackle, smoothing down the velcro that held it in place. She lifted her head slightly, and there was a muted sound from behind her leather mask. Helen depressed a tiny switch on the bracelet, and a few seconds later, her computer chimed with the sound of a new device connecting to it.

"So I can track her body's response," she explained. She flashed the computer's screen towards Emma for a moment, and she could see a few squiggly, overlapping lines.

"Heart rate, and perspiration from skin conductivity," said Helen. I can tell just how excited she's becoming. You see, right now her pulse is only eighty or so - a bit apprehensive, but having things like this happen to her isn't exactly a new experience by now."

She arose, and stepped close by Emma's side to speak softly into her ear.

"You are going to give her the best damned orgasm she's ever had, 641".

Emma made some generic sound of dissent through her muzzle. Helen had pulled out a box from beneath the bed, which contained, among other things, dildoes of several sizes and shapes. Many of them were brightly coloured.

Emma's hands were freed as the attendant released her cuffs. She knew that her muzzle was locked in place somehow. She had given up trying to remove it while she had been in her cell, so she simply stood with her arms folded defiantly.

There was the faintest sign of a twitch in Helen's jaw.

"Get to it, 641," she said.

With her hands freed, Emma was able to make a rude gesture at Helen.

"Not clever, 641. Let's see if I can provide you with a little perspective on the situation." 

She beckoned to the attendant, who hauled Emma out of the room by her wrist as Helen led the way. She was pushed into a smaller room, with white tiles on the floor and walls. There was a drain grate in the floor's centre. Helen pulled something out from a storage cupboard and brandished it at Emma - a clear plastic bag, filled with water. There was a long tube leading from one end of it, which terminated by passing through a plastic bulb, a little smaller than an egg.

"You might not be familiar with what this is, 641," said Helen. 

"I'll give you a clue," she said, holding up the tube's end. "This bit goes up your ass."

Emma's guts felt cold. Her anus puckered at the thought.

"Now, you are going to go in that room, and give that girl a nice orgasm," said Helen, "or you're getting a litre of saline enema instead. What's it going to be?"

The girl on the bed was clenching and unclenching her fists as Emma was brought back into the room. The attendant undid Emma's muzzle. It felt good to be able to move her mouth after so long, although her lips had gone numb from the constant restriction. 

"I expect you might want to use your tongue at some point," said Helen. "Don't be afraid to use her entire body." 

Without a word, Emma knelt at the bed's side and turned over the objects in the box with one hand. She had flirted with the idea of buying a toy like this for herself once, but she had never worked up the nerve to actually go through with it. This made her somewhat naive about the more elaborately shaped devices, but a thick shaft of purple plastic with a smooth, blunt end made its purpose apparent enough. There was a smaller appendage sprouting from it like the bent arm of a cactus, and the whole thing sprang to life as she thumbed a switch on its base. It buzzed in her hand, as if it were trying to wriggle free from her grip.

"You're not going to go straight for that, surely," said Helen. "Get her warmed up a little first."

Emma sighed as she climbed on to the bed, one knee between the girl's thighs, the other off to one side. She assumed that what felt good to her when she played with herself would also apply to the other girl, and drew a pair of fingers slowly across her labia. This close, Emma got the feeling that there was something familiar about the girl's body somehow. She spat onto her fingers and stroked again, and this time the girl made a quiet moaning noise. Her knees bent, she twisted her thighs a little, but her bonds didn't allow her much in the way of freedom. Emma could see muscles in her legs tensing as she danced her fingers back and forth.

She leaned over the supine girl, keeping one palm flattened above the girl's pussy as her ring and middle finger worked back and forth along the wet streak. More wet, she realised, than could be due just to her saliva - it looked like the girl was responding to her touch. The skin on her chest was a little pinker as well, the laboured breathing through the uncomfortably small holes in her mask a little faster. Emma's hand cupped the underside of one breast, while her lips attended to the other. Stimulating the girl in three different ways took a lot of concentration, but it seemed to be paying off. As her tongue glided over the girl's nipple, she felt it perk up and stiffen. The fingers between her legs were becoming quite sticky.

She seemed to have hit a combination of stimuli that worked for the girl, and she spent a few minutes alternating between them. After a while she receded back down, leaving a trail of kisses along the girl's body as she returned to the cleft between her thighs. Her fingers had done their job; beneath their touch the girl's flesh had become pink and tender. She reached for the dildo she had first picked out, and set it off buzzing once more. She ran it along the inside of the girl's thigh at first, and saw her quivering in anticipation. Emma rubbed the shaft of the implement through her hand to apply some of the girl's wetness to it, and then plunged it into her, inch after inch until the auxiliary protrusion was just brushing against the swollen nub of flesh at the top of her lips. The buzzing decreased in pitch as it met with resistance. The girl's pussy was snug around it.

Emma held it in place while she heard the girl gasping, or, at least, trying to. She gave it another push inwards and then had it retreat, leaving the tip to rest just inside her as she returned to kiss at her stomach and breasts. Her skin was warm beneath her lips, covered with the slight moistness of perspiration. The girl's chest rose up as Emma thrust the implement into her once more. Her breaths were more frequent and shallow now. Another push inwards, and a touch of her lips around the girl's nipple had her arching her back as she writhed. Emma looked up to see the girl's hands balled into tight fists. The sounds coming from beneath her skin-tight mask were high-pitched, almost desperate.

Emma kept the momentum up. She fucked the girl deeper and faster with the implement, holding the smaller vibrating attachment to buzz against her clitoris as she angled the shaft back and forth. She twisted it as she drove inwards, liquid sounds spilling from the girl's wet, red cunt. Her muted cries were becoming manic, and reached their most fervent as Emma made one final lunge inwards. She could feel her muscles rippling through the shaft of the tool, and a little extra fluid seeped its way out past it. The bed frame jerked as all of the girl's limbs yanked convulsively against their tethers, half-formed words failed to emerge from her gagged mouth, she let out a desperate moan, and then her body relaxed, sinking down a little into the bed covers. Her head was rolled to one side now, the leather of her mask wrinkling and unwrinkling as she struggled to regain her breath.

"Huh," said Helen. "Not bad. It seems you're quite good at pleasing other girls... given the right motivation, of course."

"Is that it? Am I done now?" said Emma.

Helen's mouth tightened. "I can't say I care for your tone, 641. But yes, I suppose that is the conclusion of this particular session."

"Now," she said, "are you going to go back to your cell quietly and obediently, or are we going to spend some time together in the tiled room?"

Emma gave her a dark look.

"Which is it going to be, 641?"

She muttered something in response.

"Nice and clear," said Helen. "One or the other. You are going to go back to your cell quietly, or we're going to have some more fun today. Which one?"

"...go back quietly," said Emma.

"The whole phrase! And like you mean it!"

"I will go back to my cell quietly," said Emma. Her voice was sullen. Each word repulsed her as she said it.

"There," said Helen. "I'm glad you saw what was best for you."

She summoned an attendant.

"Take her back," she said. "I'll take care of the other one."

