Author: Hoop

Title: Incarceration Ch.8 

Part: Chapter 8

Summary: Another feeding session for the girls, and Zoe is bound up thoroughly before beginning sensory deprivation treatment.

Keywords: FF, bd, nc



Apparently Emma had been taken away somewhere else - the girls had not seen her again since they had been returned to their cell, three hours ago. Zoe had spent the last ten minutes pacing back and forth. 

"What's she going to say when she comes back? About what happened?"

"It had to be one of us, Zoe." Claire was the only one to offer a response; Laura merely remained sat against the wall, with her eyes closed.

"It was almost me," said Zoe. "She wanted to choose me."

"Then you should be glad it wasn't you."

"Why should it have to be any of us?"

"Helen told us we had to choose someone."

"Why is this happening at all, though? Why us? What the fuck is the point?"

Claire blinked, slowly. Her shoulders rose in a shrug.

"How can you be so complacent!?"

"It's easier not to fight, now," said Claire.

"But-" 

Zoe started to retort, and then the effort of trying to talk to the infuriatingly calm girl suddenly seemed too much. She sat down on the other side of the cell, crossing her arms. The motion stirred something within her, and her stomach growled loudly.

"When are they going to feed us next, anyway?" said Claire.

She had said 'feed' rather than 'give us food'. Maybe that said something about the girl's attitude to her captors, Zoe thought. She wasn't sure what.

No food arrived. Eventually, the hours dragged through to the dimming of the cell lights that indicated it was night, and Zoe curled her body beneath one of the blankets, trying to ignore her aching stomach. Judging from the other girls' breathing they had managed to fall asleep fairly fast. Zoe was still wide awake three hours later, and clearly able to hear every sound as one of the girls woke: a shuffling of blankets. A zipper being drawn down, and the rustle of overalls. Then, a splashing noise against the pan of the stainless steel toilet in the cell's corner.

Eventually, sleep came to her.

---

Upon awakening, Laura opened her eyes to see Helen standing over her, with a serene expression on her face. Startled by her proximity, Laura jerked backwards, pulling the blanket with her.

"Good morning, 523."

Claire stretched her arms upwards. Across the room, Zoe blinked her eyes open but remained otherwise still, keeping her eyes on Helen.

"314. Did you sleep well?" Helen placed her palm on the top of Claire's head. She rubbed her fingers through the girl's hair. Assuming she was not actually interested in the answer, Claire had remained silent, and now she cried out as Helen's hand tensed into a fist, grabbing a handful of her hair.

"I asked you a question, 314! You worm!"

"Y-yes! I slept fine, um..."

"Good," said Helen, releasing her grip. "Good."

"I expect you girls will be wanting some breakfast," she said. "And you can have some, after we get you dressed. Those jumpsuits allow you far too much freedom of movement, I've decided. And for you, Zoe," she curled her lip under her teeth, "I have something very special in mind. Later on."

The three of them were escorted by a group of attendants, receiving occasional prods from their shock batons. Their brief walk ended in a long, narrow room with racks along one wall. Some of the garments could have been referred to as clothing; others seemed to be designed for unknown purposes. Many of them bore a bewildering number of buckles and straps.

"My collection," said Helen, beaming.

"This is..." Laura looked around at the implements and restraints. "I always thought being a pervert was a male-only thing," she said. "Apparently it's not."

"Oh come now, that's not fair," said Helen. "'Pervert' has such negative connotations. Just because I happen to have a lot of this stuff doesn't make me some kind of deviant."

"It does, Helen. It really, really does."

"I shalln't hear any more of your hurtful remarks," she said. "Let's find something to shut you up."

After spending several minutes rummaging in boxes and taking things down from racks, Helen decided on a ball gag: a glossy sphere of green rubber, with a black leather strap. She had to wait for one of the attendants to come and pin Laura's arms behind her back, and then it was only a matter of pinching the girl's nose shut long enough before she had to open her mouth to take a breath. Helen pushed the gag into Laura's mouth, and soon it was held in place by the encircling strap. 

"Anyone else like to offer their thoughts?" she asked to the other two. 

No response. Laura winced as she shifted her jaw from side to side, failing to find a more comfortable way to accommodate the ball gag.

"Good. Now, 523 and 314, you will both need restraints for your ankles and wrists. I was going to let you choose them yourselves, but it looks like 523 has now forfeited that right. So now you get this," she said, uncoiling a length of rope from one of the wall racks. She pulled it tight between her hands.

"On your knees, 523."

One of the attendants pushed down on the girl's head, forcing her to the floor. Helen pulled her arms back, and looped the doubled-up rope through itself, just above Laura's elbows. She gave a moan of pain as the rope was cinched tight, bringing her elbows to touch each other.

Helen wound the rope around her arms for several more passes before tying it off. She used a second length to bind the girl's wrists. A third length of rope was looped around Laura's body just above her hips, passing through itself before dropping down between her legs, beneath her perineum. This strand Helen passed around the cord binding the girl's wrists. With a mischievous grin she pulled it tight, and Laura choked out a gasping sound as the rope bit up into her. Her eyes were watering as Helen pulled on the rope, before securing it in place. She walked around in front of the kneeling girl.

"That is what you get for being uncooperative," she said. "314 here is going to have an easier time, as you will see."

Laura shifted her legs around. Trying to get herself into a position where she could stand without the use of her arms was not easy, and it seemed that, with every movement she made, the rope passing between her legs became tighter. She resigned herself to lying on the floor, squirming against her insufferably tight bonds. 

She could see Helen holding up different sets of restraints for Claire to look at, talking to her in a tone laden with mock sweetness. The choice eventually came down to three restraint sets, and Claire's eyes were downcast as she pointed to an assembly of leather bands lined with a fleece-like material, choosing them over a set of black leather cuffs with bolts and rivets, and a set of heavy steel shackles. She held out her arm as Helen took her hand, fastening the first of the bands around her wrist.

When Helen had finished with her, Claire's hands were held by her sides; the bands around her wrists were linked to a belt with metal rings. Another set of cuffs around her ankles were linked with a strip of some elastic material, short enough only to allow her to walk at a slow, careful pace. 

Zoe was next.

"You'll have to lose your overalls, Zoe," said Helen. 

"But they didn't..."

"For what comes next. You're going to need some extra attire. Just do it, already."

She stripped down. Helen presented her with a bulky, white undergarment that seemed to be made of very thick material. On closer inspection, it had a papery consistency, as if it were made to be disposable. Her mouth twisted into a scowl.

"Helen, is this..."

"It's exactly what you think it is, Zoe."

"I am not wearing this. There is no way."

"Fine then, be my guest," said Helen. "You can wallow in your own filth. See if I care." She snatched the garment away from her.

"Wait," said Zoe, "wait."

"God damn it, Helen," she said, pulling on the diaper. "This is messed up. This is really, really, just... wow."

"You'll realise why you need it, later on."

Zoe had no say in the choice of her restraints. It took a lot of effort, and the careful application of some talcum powder, to wrestle the girl's arms into the sleeves of a strait jacket made from stretchy, black latex. She could already feel herself starting to sweat as the sleeves were crossed over her chest, and secured together at the back of the garment. With her arms thus bound, Helen completed the arrangement with a set of soft ankle cuffs, linked together with a chain. She gathered a few other things into a box which she instructed one of the attendants to carry, "for later on," she had said. After that, the girls were taken to another room.

The attendants shoved Claire and Laura down on to stools either side of a table in the room's centre. Zoe was seated in a high-backed metal chair along the other edge, so that she was sitting in between them. Helen strapped several belts around Zoe's body, looping them around the chair's back, forcing her to sit upright. Finally, she removed Laura's gag, and she spat out the excess saliva that had built up around the obstruction in her mouth.

"And now, breakfast," said Helen.

She left the room, and when she returned a few minutes later she carried a tray, the contents of which she placed on the table. There were three cardboard cups, with straws protruding through their plastic lids. A pile of donuts sat on a paper plate. Laura looked at the meal doubtfully.

"Help yourselves."

The girls glanced at each other. "Perhaps if you untied us...?" Laura suggested.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to improvise, 523. Of course, if you don't approve of the arrangement, you can always abstain entirely."

Laura considered refusing out of principle. Although, so far, that sort of behaviour didn't seem to make any difference to the attitude of their captor and her bizarre scenarios. Opposite her, Claire had already leaned forward, and was biting into one of the donuts. She pulled it back towards her, and took a chunk out of it. Her face was smeared with icing and sugar granules.

Laura's stomach gurgled.

She bent forward reluctantly, trying to ignore the burning pain from her crotch-rope as it slid under her. She opened her mouth, and bit off a chunk of sweet dough. Tasting food after her unacceptably long fast somehow made her hunger more urgent, and soon she had entirely consumed her first one. She angled her head sideways to pull another from the plate, and her nose bumped into Claire's chin, who was midway through doing the same thing. By this point, both of them had already become quite messy.

Laura sat upright again, licking the corner of her lip. Sat at right-angles to her, Zoe was looking down at the plate, unable to stoop down due to the extra bonds holding her to the chair. She looked at Laura with a helpless expression.

"Helen, she..."

Laura knew the appeal would be futile, and gave up. She stooped forward to take one of the donuts in her mouth. It was a little too soft to support its own weight, falling in half as Laura turned her head. She sighed, and took one of the smaller pieces in between her teeth. Zoe opened her mouth to receive it, and Laura leaned over to her. Their lips bumped together briefly as the piece of food was transferred, and then Laura sat back while Zoe chewed, and swallowed.

"Again?" Laura said.

Zoe nodded. She gave her another piece of the food, closing her eyes as she felt the girl's breath tickling her face. Meanwhile Claire had leaned forward, and was sucking some of the unknown liquid from one of the cups through its straw.

"What's in there?" Laura asked.

"I don't really know," said Claire. "It doesn't taste of much. I think it's milk? Tell me what colour it is," she said, opening her mouth and sticking out her tongue. There were faint traces of a creamy colour.

"Looks like," said Laura. 

She fed another segment of donut to Zoe.

"Can you pick up one of those cups, somehow?" she said. "I could do with a drink..."

Laura tried to open her mouth wide enough to get a grip on one of the cups, but they were too big. Claire helped her from the other side, and they managed to cooperate in getting it about four inches off the tabletop before it dropped back down. The next attempts proved just as futile.

"Just how badly do you want some, Zoe? Because, um, I can only really see one way of doing this."

Laura gripped one of the straws between her teeth, and tried to pull it out from the cup. It wouldn't budge.

"Fuck, you thought of everything, didn't you, Helen?"

"I did," she said. "Including the fact that you might be slightly more reluctant when it came to the milk. I wonder just how much Zoe will want to have some after this?"

She retrieved a napkin from her pocket, and unwrapped it from around the item it concealed: a small, red chilli pepper. She crushed it between her fingers carefully, rubbing the juices onto her fingertips, and then she walked over to Zoe's side.

"You know where this is going," she said.

Even with Zoe doing her best to hold her lips closed, Helen still managed to wiggle one fingertip into the girl's mouth. A quick squeeze applied to her cheeks with the other hand forced Zoe's jaws open just long enough for Helen's fingers to dart in, stroking against the surface of Zoe's tongue, carrying their payload of pulped chili.

"Haah," said Zoe.

Laura could see the girl's tongue rubbing against the inside of her cheek. She opened her mouth in an "o" shape and took rapid breaths, as if trying to cool her tongue.

"Nnnnnn," she said. Her cheeks were flushed red; her discomfort was evident. She looked at Claire with a pleading expression.

"I guess there's no other way," said Claire.

She sucked up a mouthful of milk from her cup, and leaned towards Zoe, tilting her head. Their lips met. A small trickle of white ran down Zoe's chin as the liquid was transferred. Claire pulled away, and a thin thread of saliva hung between their mouths for a brief instant. Zoe held the milk in her mouth before swallowing.

"It's still burning," she said. 

"Again?" said Claire.

Zoe nodded.

It took half of the remaining milk to neutralise the burning sensation of whatever infernal chilli Helen had selected. Their lips met again and again in awkward kisses. By the end, Zoe's chin was wet with the milk that had inevitably dribbled out from between their lips. 

Between them, they finished the food - perhaps it seemed easier after getting over the initial weirdness of having to feed Zoe; maybe it was because they didn't know when the next meal would come - either way, the girls' hunger had been satiated for now. Laura wondered if Claire was perhaps being a little too compliant as she leaned in to lick a stray blob of icing from Laura's cheek.

"All finished?" said Helen. "Good. Just one last thing, and then you two can go back. Zoe, I have other plans for you."

Helen went over to the box of extra equipment she had brought from the first room, and pulled out a syringe. She attached a needle, uncapping its plastic sheath, and drew clear fluid into the barrel from a small glass bottle. She laid it on the table in between the girls.

"523. 314. One of you is going to get the contents of this syringe. Who's it going to be?"

"What's in it?"

"You think I'm going to tell you now, and spoil the surprise?"

"So how are we supposed to choose?"

"However you like."

Laura's skin crawled just looking at the tip of the needle. She knew that she definitely did not like injections. It was her or Claire - Zoe seemed to be exempt from this. Maybe the girls would expect her to take this one, after practically volunteering Emma for the last punishment. But Emma wasn't here right now... and Claire seemed to be growing more and more resigned to her fate. What would Zoe think?  Would she think she was taking advantage of Claire, if she made her do it instead? She continued to try and find a rational solution.

"Well?" said Helen.

"I'll do it," said Claire. 

Laura was taken aback. She found herself thinking back to the nights before, when Claire had slept clinging on to her as if she couldn't bear to be alone. The girl was weak. Out of guilt, Laura found herself speaking almost involuntarily.

"No," she said. "I will."

"But-"

"Claire," she said, firmly. "It's OK, I'll take it."

"Well, isn't this interesting?", said Helen. She sounded amused. "Very noble of you," she said, fetching a bottle of alcohol and swabbing a patch on Laura's neck, "to protect poor 314 from herself. Seeing as you seem to think you know better. Hold still."

Laura let out a brief cry as she felt the needle-tip against her skin. There was a sudden ache as the syringe disgorged its contents into her bloodstream, and then it was over, and Helen was smoothing a plaster over the pinprick.

"All done," said Helen. "You'll find out what the effects are, oh, I don't know, soon enough." She walked behind Laura, and gripped the rope binding her wrists, pulling it upwards. Laura grunted.

"I think you've suffered enough for now," she said. She turned to the attendants. "Take them back. Take this one via the equipment room, and get her a restraint set like 314's. Then take her to the cell."

"Wait, what? We're going to be wearing these all the time?" said Laura.

"For the foreseeable future, yes," said Helen. "Need to get you used to longer-term restraints. Oh, and I think that insolent little question just earned you another spell wearing this."

She picked up the ball gag. She strapped it into Laura's mouth, making sure it was fastened tightly before she and Claire were led away, leaving Helen in the room with Zoe and a single attendant. 

"Now, Zoe."

Helen sat down at the table next to her. "Zoe. Come to think of it, why haven't I given you a number yet?"

"Because I'm not part of your plan? Because I'm not supposed to be here?"

Helen laughed. "Nice try."

"People will be looking for me, Helen. They'll have noticed. Same for the other girls. This can't last."

"Well, that's for me to worry about, not you. What you need to worry about," said Helen, "is this." 

She produced a vial from her pocket. An improbably long name printed on a label described its chemical contents, along with a miniature drawing of a molecular structure. 

"You kept excellent lab notes, Zoe. I was able to finish the purification myself."

Zoe recognised the chemical she had been assigned to work on. She had been in the final stages of the synthesis before finding herself at Helen's mercy.

"And given that you did most of the work," said Helen, "I think it's only fair that you should try it first."

"You want me to take it? You know what it'll do, Helen..."

"We both know," she said. "It's a hallucinogen with some interesting properties. What I'm interested in, is what sort of things your brain will conjure up for you when the stimuli are specifically controlled. And also," she said, "I think once you're through with it, you'll be a lot closer to the others in your state of mind. We need to move things along a little faster."

Helen drew the contents of the vial into a plastic pipette. 

"You can't," said Zoe, "Please! How much was in there?"

Helen held the vial up so she could see it. "A couple of milligrams," she said.

"Jesus Christ, Helen!"

"Now be a good girl and take your medicine," she said. "Otherwise you're going to get it in suppository form."

"You..." Zoe sobbed. She'd read reports written by others who had taken the compound. Their observations had sounded very unpleasant to her. Helen brandished the pipette, and it was clear that there was no way out.

"Please," she said. "No..."

She clenched her teeth a moment too late, and felt the plastic tube between them. Helen squeezed the end of the pipette, and liquid squirted against the back of Zoe's throat. She could not help but swallow.

Helen fetched the box that had been brought from the equipment room. She pulled out a pair of the little vibrators that the girls had been subjected to during their viewing of Emma's rape, and she pulled at the waistband of Zoe's diaper, allowing her to slide her hand in and nestle one of the objects against her clitoris. The attendant helped Helen release the straps holding Zoe to the chair, and this allowed her to insert another of the vibrators, first treated with a blob of lubricant, just inside her ass hole. As Zoe stood, she could already feel the effects of the compound starting to take hold. The walls drifted lazily in her vision, and random splotches and stains diverged into beautiful, geometric patterns. She heard herself giggling.

Helen appeared in her field of view, holding her by the shoulders.

"The diaper is so you don't have to worry about anything else at all," she said, "because you're going to be under the influence for a long time."

"How..." Zoe found she had some difficulty speaking. "How long, Helen...?"

"About eighteen to twenty hours."

"The fuh... oh jeez," she said. "Oh God."

Helen thumbed a button on the wired controller for the vibrators, and a tingling feeling spread throughout Zoe's nethers as the small objects started to buzz. Helen tucked the control unit under a strap on her strait jacket.

"And now, to remove all the external stimuli that could influence your experience," said Helen. "Including your own voice."

The ball gag she had chosen bore a hollow plastic sphere, with holes in its surface. The strap was made from some rubbery material; it felt smooth against Zoe's cheeks as Helen fitted it snugly in place. With the ball wedged into her mouth, Zoe could only utter unintelligible moans, but she could breathe a lot more freely than with the other types.

After that, she was blindfolded with an eye mask lined with soft material that blocked out every last bit of light. Submerged in darkness, her drug-addled brain had the freedom to produce fantastical visions of coloured shapes for her.

"And now the final thing," she heard Helen whisper. "Pleasant dreams, Zoe."

She felt something being gently pushed into her ear, and a thin wire against the side of her face. The same on the other side. Then Helen put a couple of strips of tape over the earphones, holding them in place. There was a beep, and whatever device they were connected to started to play.

Zoe was vaguely aware of hands holding her under her arms; it felt like she was being carried somewhere else. The sounds demanded more of her attention: strange, dissonant chords. Whispers that she was on the verge of being able to make out. She was sure that one of the voices was repeating, "you are my slave," "obey," "submit."

There was a dim sense that she was being laid down on a soft surface, maybe a bed. Her ankles were tugged in opposite directions, and felt like they had been tied off to something. She twisted her body, and realised she was strapped down with strips of some elastic material.

The voices continued to whisper to her. A dull, bass hum was growing in intensity, and her brain conjured for her the image of a windswept plain, bleached of colour. Spectral visages manifested themselves to speak to her: "you will sumbit," they said, "you are mine. My little slave." "My little fuck-toy."

Zoe was sure she felt a light kiss on her cheek that somehow felt more real than the rest of the hallucination, and then the chemical took hold of her entirely, and she moaned into her gag as images swirled and crashed through her mind.