Lara Swift Is Colonized
Chapter 4: Stable Vices
Without meaning to, Lara developed a serious addiction to masturbation.
What choice did she have? She had spent her entire life stimulated by the finest things: expensive sushi for her refined palate, adventures in exotic locales, interesting schooling that included a lot of sports and exercise to get her endorphins flowing. Here, in her cell, there was nothing except her sensitive tattoos and that ever-present screen. Once she had given the cameras one show, what difference did it make if she did it again?
This is what she told herself, even though she knew deep down that it was a troublesome habit.
It was troublesome on many levels. The most striking issue was that she never really managed to match the intensity of her first orgasm, the one she had with Miss Galkowska’s stockings all over her. That was always Lara’s goal: to have a nearly transcendent climax that would drive all the other thoughts from her mind. But it never worked out that way. In fact, it seemed like each orgasm was weaker than the previous one, and to such a degree that Lara could harbor no doubts about the pattern forming.
At first, she overcame this problem by teasing herself more, thus prolonging the experience, and for a while that was effective. There was a certain artistry to it—subtle strokes she could use on her increasingly-familiar clit, sometimes no more than a feather touch to keep her teetering on the brink of an orgasm as a way of increasing its eventual power. But soon, even that didn’t do the trick anymore, and Lara was left teasing herself for a completely unreasonable length of time to even have a muted echo of that first experience.
By that time, she couldn’t even get off in a hurry anymore. For the frustrated teenager to actually reach the heights of pleasure, it required a session of lengthy and imaginative teasing, or else accepting failure. Lara knew enough about the principles of addiction to see what was happening here: addicts would chase that first high even as it required more and more of their ‘drug’ to make it happen. But even knowing that did nothing to help her. It was just one more bad thought to push to the back of her mind as she reached between her legs again to see if she could make her long, shapely toes curl in ecstasy just one more time. Pretty please?
This compounded with another issue: the programming on the smartscreen was obviously meant to indoctrinate her. It was female-friendly erotica that they barely bothered to disguise anymore. Lara had read somewhere that as a person becomes more aroused, they become more tolerant of “disgusting” things. That was exactly what was happening to her now, and she spent so much of her days aroused that she was becoming quite comfortable with things that should have been downright repugnant!
That blonde millennial girl, the one who looked like royalty, apparently had a reality show made about her. She looked so much like Robin De Eresby that Lara pretty much thought of her whenever she saw this one. It wasn’t a good association. The royal girl had a maid hanging about her most of the time—a statuesque brunette who wore white gloves along with a racy maid’s uniform. This show was wholly unsuitable for television for a lot of reasons, but especially because the maid would often crawl between her mistress’s creamy thighs and perform a lengthy session of oral sex at her behest.
If this had been the first thing Lara had seen on the smartscreen, it would have been one thing. But the maid’s most intimate duties seemed to take place at the precise moments when Lara was nearest to finishing herself off, and it was such a natural progression from other footage that it kind of slipped under her radar.
If Lara looked away from the screen for even a moment, it would ruin her entire session and she would have to start over from scratch—something she had learned the hard way. So she watched all the close-ups of the brunette maid’s pretty face practically buried in her blonde mistress’s snatch, seeing the repetitive movements within the girl’s jaw as her tongue worked overtime. Usually, the blonde woman would have one hand resting dominantly on top of the maid’s head, or grasping her ponytail. With the other, she would be playing with her smartphone, or holding an old-fashioned princess phone up to her ear and having an animated discussion with whomever was on the other line. The maid didn’t have the same freedom—her hands were most often cuffed behind her back, and her knees were most often on the hard tile floor at the seat of her mistress’s favorite black leather chair.
There was a box of tissues near the blonde girl’s phone. When her maid finished with her duties (usually after bringing her mistress to several loud orgasms which made Lara all the more furious she couldn’t quite get there), the blonde would take a single tissue and wipe her girlcum from off her maid’s face.
She really made a show of this: painstakingly gathering every last bit of her juices onto the soft, white pad. Then the mistress would use that same tissue to delicately wipe herself clean down there, her flushed face making the most adorable expressions the entire time. Then she would clean the seat of the leather chair, and finally place the soaked tissue into her maid’s mouth. There was a small white egg-shaped trash can nearby, but it never seemed to occur to the blonde to use it for that purpose.
Lara had sympathy for the maid. She didn’t appear to take the least pleasure in her duties—in fact, she looked pale and weary by the end of this ritual. Oftentimes, there would be a thread of clear, viscous liquid that ran from her plump lips to her mistress’s puffy sex that would lengthen as she pulled away. The maid clearly didn’t enjoy eating tissues—who would, really? Lara had heard it was a thing supermodels did—a way to suppress the appetite without consuming any calories—but here it was an obvious act of abject worship.
The brunette looked way too much like Lara for her comfort. It felt like she was watching a pornographic parody of her own life, if she had been a million times less fortunate. Why didn’t she think to resist or escape or fight back anymore?
She wasn’t returned to schooling for quite some time. Nurse Cerys had taken away Miss Galkowska’s stockings, and Lara’s solitary confinement began again.
Ugh, Nurse Cerys—Lara could barely bring herself to make eye contact with the woman anymore, not since she had walked in on her masturbating so many times. The girl spent so much time playing with herself that it was bound to happen, but Lara knew it wasn’t a coincidence that the blonde nurse had barged into her cell right at the moment she was cresting the peak of an orgasm. The cameras, Lara had made peace with, but another person intruding on her just totally messed her up, and brought on the guilt and shame that crushed all of her sexy feelings. At least for a little while.
“Nurse! I—I wasn’t, uh,” Lara stammered, covering herself as best she could the first time she was discovered playing with her clit. She felt totally ridiculous, and prayed for this moment to be over as soon as possible.
“It’s no problem!” the nurse encouraged her, “nothing to be ashamed of. A young girl like you—I mean not every girl does that, but you know what I’m saying!”
Lara didn’t know what she was saying at all! What was with her choice of words? Terms like ‘problem’ ‘ashamed’ and ‘young girl’ all seemed like they were meant to help but just made things worse. The Tomb Liberator swore up and down that this was the last time she would masturbate here, but soon the boredom took over. She reasoned that Nurse Cerys wouldn’t come back so soon after her last visit. And it really did help her sleep, not to mention the thrill of it. Lara talked herself into reaching a cautious hand down there, while she nestled into her comfie little corner, and started the process again despite all her weak misgivings.
The fact that she couldn’t stick to her guns in even this minor but very intimate way had a cascading effect on the poor girl. It became a character defect, a source of shame, and giving in was so easy even though it reinforced all the negative self-talk that was increasingly prominent in her thinking nowadays.
Obviously, Lara knew all these things were inappropriate at best, and downright sadistic at worst. But it felt like each step had followed the previous one so smoothly, and the institution rewarded compliance and punished rebellion so much that it only made sense to cooperate. Her sense of time, and even reality had been warped by this place—and the long stay in solitary deprived her of the everyday decisions that she had taken for granted. Her only outlet was this specific thing—she had tried to exercise and meditate, but the institution would broadcast a sort of noise into her cell that she found rather grating until she gave up.
Thus, her new routine focused around coaxing a weak orgasm from her frustrated young body before the Nurse would return with more of the wipes for her eyeglasses, or to feed her, or whatever.
As she remained away from the classroom her anxiety grew about her eventual return. This was a particularly uncomfortable thing Lara had realized about herself: she was getting a little too accustomed to these strange rituals she performed in her cell. She was rescued by Nurse Cerys, who carried with her Lara’s new school outfit.
There was a new collar, still a shock collar, but with the lettering “TEACHER’S PET” in block print on the front and back of it. She allowed Nurse Cerys to dress her, stepping into the tissue-thin white panties that were totally see-though. That followed by the tiniest skirt Lara had ever seen—still red plaid, but it ruffled out playfully and the slightest movement of her legs would be eye-catching. Next, the nurse put a frilly white garter around Lara’s thigh, in such a way that it rested atop her tattoo. A red plaid ribbon secured it to her leg, and the effect of having something so soft constantly brush against her ink was distracting, to say the least.
Her top consisted of a red plaid blazer, that was comically oversized compared to her teeny tiny white blouse. She was fitted with a red neck tie that pointed to the delights barely concealed by her skirt. Before putting on any of those things, though, the nurse slapped some kind of adhesive patch onto Lara’s back, on top of her tattoo. Another patch went atop the feather tattoo on her breast. They were like nicotine patches or something similar.
Then Lara was nearly encased in the white silk of her constricting little outfit. She stepped into the shoes that Nurse Cerys held out for her: red platform heels that put her feet at a most uncomfortable angle. Then the handcuffs, and they returned to the schoolroom, but not before tying Lara’s hair into a simple ponytail with a length of red ribbon made into a frilly bow.
“Lara, welcome back to class,” Miss Galkowska said, shamelessly running her eyes up and down the girl’s body.
Lara blushed, and tried to make eye contact with the woman, but couldn’t.
“Thank you, Miss Galkowska.”
Lara noticed there was no longer a desk for her. She felt quite a bit of anxiety standing in front of everyone, not knowing what to do. Did it have something to do with those patches on her tattoos?
“You will not have a desk today,” the Polish woman explained, “instead, please sit atop my desk, with your legs stretched across it. Before we begin, though, I need to administer your spankings.”
Lara huffed—she had never been spanked in her whole life! How dare this woman think she could get away with this? And in front of a crowd!? But as offended as she was, she had already seen how fighting Miss Galkowska would end. Feeling another part of her pride slip away, the once haughty Lara Abington approached her mistress and bent over her desk, as she had been instructed. She removed her blazer and neatly folded it, placing her glasses on top of the thing before assuming this humiliating position.
Her face was directed towards the classroom, and a length of chain connected her collar to the teacher’s desk. Her eyesight was such that she could hardly make out her classmates’ faces, even though they were just a few yards off. Pink mist obscured the back wall of the room.
“From now on, you are my teacher’s pet,” Miss Galkowska said, as she slowly raised Lara’s skirt and tucked it into its own elastic band.
“While here, you will not think of yourself as Lara Swift, or Lara Abington. You will be Lara Rabynya.”
SLAP!
The woman’s hand hit Lara’s toned butt with amazing force, stinging terribly as her body absorbed the blow. Lara was brave, though, and didn’t make a sound to show how much that spanking had just hurt. Miss Galkowska then traced her fingertips across Lara’s backside, causing an odd tickling sensation and giving rise to some goosebumps. Lara was already blushing madly to be spanked like this, but such intimate tickling was a fresh violation in itself.
SLAP!
The bitch was really putting her shoulder into it, that was for sure. Lara remained stoic, but it was becoming harder. What did ‘rabynya’ mean?
“I know your past—how you think of yourself as the Tomb Liberator and do the most unladylike things. Rock climbing? Trespassing? Attempted theft?”
SLAP!
Lara balled her fists—it was the only show of resistance she dared to make.
“You will forget these things. You have a new life now, and new responsibilities. My job is to help you realize this.”
SLAP!
“And accept this.”
SLAP!
Miss Galkowska was nothing if not skilled at her craft. Merciless, too, and determined to bring this girl to heel. Even Lara, who had once broken her wrist during lunch but chose to avoid going to the nurse in order to finish her final exam later in the day, was brought to tears by the woman’s assault. She held back for as long as she could, but as soon as she felt the first tear fall, there was no stopping what followed. Nor did the woman even stop as Lara was sobbing pathetically in front of the entire classroom. No, instead she kept going!
Lara blamed it on the solitary confinement: it could lead to outbursts like this. At least, she tried to. Mostly, this was yet another embarrassing failure to hold up to her supposed values, and she cried all the harder for it.
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
“Auuugh!” Lara cried out, “Please! Mercy!”
There was a sudden pause. Lara’s behind felt like it was glowing hot, and chapped raw.
“Well, since you asked so nicely, of course I will stop! All you had to do was ask, Lara.”
Lara hung her head low, watching her ponytail hang towards the tile floor.
“I want you to remember this feeling the next time you feel like defying me. I am the authority here, girl. And you need to learn how to act around authority. Do you understand?”
“Yes ma’am,” Lara whispered.
She was uncuffed and made to sit on Miss Galkowska’s desk, with her long legs stretched across its length like she was a sexy pin-up girl. Her behind smarted terribly, especially against the solid wood. The instructor ignored her for the most part, addressing the class in their lesson that day. But she rested one hand on Lara’s garter, and would run it between her fingers as though it were some kind of fidget charm. The silk felt amazing running across her tattoo, and even Miss Galkowska’s touch was pleasant against her ink. It only added to her embarrassment, and ignited the urge to play with herself in front of all this people. She had a very hard time concentrating on the class.
“Let’s do introductions, since Lara here missed them last time. Corrine, we will start with you.”
A flaxen-haired girl wearing a checkered pinafore jumper stood to the side of her desk and made the requisite curtsy. She was striking, but in an androgynous way, with a petite body and porcelain skin like a doll. It was odd that she didn’t have the schoolgirl uniform like the rest of the girls here.
“Yes ma’am,” came a sheepish voice.
“I am Corrine Stone, pleased to meet you. I am here because...”
The girl was clearly struggling, but Miss Galkowska cleared her throat and frightened the waifish thing into compliance.
“I am here because my stepmum and stepsister found me... sniffing their dirty panties. And at the same time, I was playing with my little thing.”
Lara found this truly weird—was this some kind of boy in drag? Sure enough, he (she?) lifted up the dress to reveal a pair of latex panties, beneath which was a telltale bulge; the outline of a small cock that was pulled beneath the perineum, and pinned between the scrotum. With her glasses on, Lara could make out the particularly small size of it : ‘Corrine’ could probably wear a pair of short shorts and no one would be able to tell. The girl was blushing tremendously.
“They were very offended. My sister said it wasn’t safe for me to inhabit the house with them—that I might lose control of my urges and do something terrible. So, my... lovely stepmum paid for me to undergo treatment for my sexual issues in this facility.”
“Corrine has been my most interesting charge in quite a while,” Miss Galkowska said.
“We really got to the root of her dysfunction. I mean, sniffing panties is a truly bizarre behavior, but as long as everyone knows about it, what’s the harm? I was more interested in what motivated her to do this. I mean, Victoria and Miss Stone are truly beautiful women, but why wouldn’t he just go right for them, like a man?”
Lara could easily see what the Polish woman was doing here—upbraiding the poor girl for her past ‘crimes’ while pretending like they were neutral observations. The “like a man” thing seemed to have a particular affect on the unfortunate pupil—a direct assault on his manhood.
“Anyway, after a great deal counseling and exercises, we identified the root of Corrine’s issues. It was truly interesting: She desires to live ‘en femme’ with her sexuality strictly controlled by an outside force. Those ‘panties’ are a highly sophisticated chastity belt that will help Corrine achieve her ultimate fantasy. She must urinate sitting down, and a full erection is completely out of the question due to spikes that emerge after a certain threshold—I understand that this is problematic because of a sensitizing gel that acts as a lubricant for them, but what better way to shape Corrine’s mind than to punish each and every little failure?”
Corrine nodded, but there was a glint of anger in her eyes. Miss Galkowska went on:
“Victoria and Miss Stone will take control of her treatment eventually, but they have no interest in dealing with all the little outbursts and temper tantrums that emerge while her mind tries to wriggle back to its old comfort zone. So, I am bringing Corrine to the level where she can live as their personal attendant in exchange for their help acting out her innermost desire that she didn’t even know she had!
“When you get out of here, Corrine, they promise you can sniff their panties to your heart’s content. They never took an issue with that, they even find it flattering that someone would adore something so dirty of theirs. They just couldn’t stand the thought of you playing with your little dickie the whole time. Well, there’s no threat of that, now, is there?”
Corrine winced—betraying her conflicting emotions about this strange transformation.
“I don’t even know if it would work anymore at that point! Dr. Wu might—but I never cared for all that high-tech intervention. If it were up to me, we would accomplish the same thing with aversion therapy and mantras. Oh well.”
“You may sit, dearie.”
The rest of the introductions went similarly—no one was here by their own volition. Each of them had someone in their life who had sent them to this place, generally people who had something to gain from their incarceration.
The entire time, Miss Galkowska fussed over Lara’s body absentmindedly, running a hand along her smooth calves, or tracing her fingers across her collar. She would occasionally stroke one of Lara’s tattoos, and it always seemed to shut down the girl’s thinking no matter how much she tried to maintain her indignation. The patches on top of Lara’s tattoos felt a little itchy. She strongly believed they were leeching some kind of chemical into her body—although she had never smoked cigarettes, Lara had reason to believe these were nicotine patches. Something about their interaction with her tattoos seemed to get her very high—a pleasant buzz that she liked more than she cared to admit.
Lara didn’t bother objecting to the woman’s hands running all over her body, even though she despised such casual objectification. Miss Galkowska didn’t ask Lara to make her own introduction, but instead jumped right into that day’s ‘lesson plan.’
“My pet will write a sentence on the chalkboard, and we will do our grammar exercises!”
The Polish woman leaned too close to Lara’s ear and whispered something that didn’t bear repeating—it made the girl blush to even hear it one-on-one! Nor did the harridan allow any argument, instead handing Lara a thick white stylus made out to look like a short piece of chalk. As much as Lara wanted to resist this mortifying command, she felt the sting in her backside and knew the woman could do much worse. So she got to her feet and walked over to the high-tech screen that dominated the wall behind Miss Galkowska’s desk.
The screen was made to look like a green chalkboard, but was actually a high-tech touch screen in a re-imagining of a bygone era. With a sigh, Lara began writing:
“She sucked his turgid cock until it spurt all over her aristocratic face.”
“Now then, who is the subject of this sentence?” Miss Galkowska asked, as though it were a completely normal thing.
All of the hands went up. The teacher called on a mocha-skinned beauty, the only black girl in the group. When acknowledged, she stood to the side of her desk, curtseyed, and spoke:
“The woman, Miss Galkowska.”
“Correct. Now let’s try one harder. Pet, come here.”
The writing on the screen vanished as Lara returned to her hated instructor, bending low so the woman could whisper something else into her ear. This one was much longer, but that wasn’t the only reason Lara’s mind revolted at the thought of writing it.
Miss Galkowska said something to the effect of, “I, Lara Rabynya, hereby relinquish my title as the Lady of Abington now and forevermore. I present it, with compliments, to Mrs. Karen Liao, and accept her gracious offer of employment—”
Lara pulled away, and glared at the horrid woman. Miss Galkowska met her gaze quite easily, and gave her a calculated look in return as though to say, “well, what’s keeping you?” The room was uncomfortably quiet.
“Pet, I wasn’t finished giving you the sentence,” the Polish woman said in a menacing tone. “If you don’t get back down here right now, I will have you do it in line-writing a hundred times on the board. And if you make one small mistake, you will start again from the very first. After a vicious spanking, of course. Well, what will it be?”
It was an impossible decision. Lara couldn’t bear the thought of it; this was crossing the line and the teacher knew it.
It was a moment of clarity for the Tomb Liberator. All of a sudden, she took a step back and saw how precarious and desperate her situation was. Here she was, trapped deep inside of a fiendish prison with no hope of escape. She was dressed like a fetishist’s wildest imagination of an errant schoolgirl, and about to write about surrendering her entire life to a sadistic bitch who would punish her at the drop of a hat! This was it. She had to resist, even if just to prove to herself that she still could.
Lara neatly put the chalk onto the teacher’s desk. She held her head high, and spoke loudly so that the entire class could hear.
“I refuse.”
“You will wish you hadn’t,” Miss Galkowska said. Then she turned towards the students.
“Class, please stand in line to go to the washroom. And Lara, please follow me to detention.”
Even through her weakened vision, Lara could see the students recoil at the word ‘detention.’ It undercut her confidence significantly. She darted her eyes across the desk for anything she could use to get the collar from her neck, but found nothing. With all the pride she could muster, Lara tottered after the teacher in her platform heels, hoping to at least show some dignity for the benefit of her classmates. They didn’t appreciate her efforts; and the looks on their faces made Lara wonder if she would ever see them again!
Nurse Cerys was waiting for her out in the hallway, clearly feeling bad for the girl as they marched in silence to a room towards nearer to the doctor’s office.
There was a table inside, covered in restraint gear.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The hard way involves your shock collar,” Miss Galkowska said.
“Step out of your heels please, and set your eyeglasses on the table.”
Lara did as she was told, but she found the gear quite intimidating. Nurse Cerys removed all of Lara’s clothing, and began dressing her in very stringent bondage equipment. The first piece was an ornate armbinder that drew her shoulder blades painfully close to one another as her elbows came close to touching. Next were sleek latex cuffs that went around her ankles, with D rings installed in the fronts and backs. Then, the nurse put a gag around the lower half of Lara’s face. It had a hard tube-like protrusion that went behind the Tomb Liberator’s teeth, custom fit in such a way that it prevented her from biting down on her tongue or spitting the thing out.
She felt incredibly vulnerable stripped in the nude in front of these women, wearing such heavy restraints that she couldn’t dream of fighting back. Pinpricks of fear darted up and down her spine as the nurse approached the wall and made a panel slide back, revealing a very small chamber whose inside was coated in a slippery pink material.
“You will need to climb in here now,” Nurse Cerys said.
Lara was in disbelief. The space was so tiny that she would have to contort herself into a ball to fit! She had no room to argue here, though, and felt a little zap in her collar that indicated that if she didn’t obey, they would just stun her and force her in there. Lara awkwardly approached the space, attempting to fold her long legs in such a way to get her body inside that tiny cell.
It was a tight squeeze, to say the least. The pink material was slippery and soft like some kind of water bed, and had the feel of slick alien flesh rubbing against her own. Nurse Cerys connected Lara’s restraints to two small slots in the wall: one behind her head, and another near her feet via two lengths of cables. She was truly trapped now, and as she looked into the larger room she felt a sort of claustrophobia come on. Nurse Cerys hooked an undeniably phallic tube up to Lara’s gag that came down from somewhere in the ceiling—she was unable to spit it out.
Miss Galkowska approached with a syringe filled with a neon green material, and Lara shook her head to plead with the woman.
“Hold still, pet. If you fidget and make me miss, it will be worse for you, better for me.”
This chilled Lara’s bones as the woman spread apart her virgin lips, prodding her a little too much in an apparent search to locate her clit! It took another firm warning to get Lara to hold still as the woman deftly jabbed the needle into her most sensitive spot, unloading its entire contents into Lara.
Lara cried out in pain, biting against the hard rubber that was invading her mouth. She wrenched her shoulders in their sockets, but her arms remained securely pinioned behind her back. The agony was mind blowing—it felt like a wasp had stung her right on her clitoris!
“Mmmmph!!!!”
Miss Galkowska watched with rapt attention as the girl struggled against her bonds. She was enjoying this, clearly.
“It’s a modified form of vespid venom,” Miss Galkowska explained, “VERY long-lasting. The pain should wear off for the most part, but then it gives way to a horrendous itching sensation. The itching sensation does not lessen over time, but gets worse unless you scratch yourself. If you behave yourself, we will give you something to scratch it on.”
Lara barely heard the woman’s snarky comments. She was practically going mad from the frustrated desire to rub her poor clit, to soothe the maddening pain that was the limit of her world right now. She rubbed her knees together and bucked her hips, but it barely did anything to help. Then they shut the door, and Lara was in pitch black with her clit stinging so bad it made her stomach churn.
“Mmmmph! Hlp! Ill wr’te ’t!” she cried out, but it was too late.
Was it Lara’s imagination, or was her entire cell going down like she was in some kind of elevator? What could be worse?! Now even if she miraculously managed to free herself and somehow found a way to open the door, what would she find? Grinding gears, maybe? Or a stone wall?
Her cell seemed to reach its lowest level, but then began moving on a horizontal axis, as though she were traveling down an assembly line. She stopped somewhere beneath that terrible asylum, but all she could do was scoot her toned butt back and forth across the slick floor, trying in vain to relieve the pain in her love button.
A screen in the wall jumped to life, bathing Lara’s nude body in a hot pink light. It was Miss Galkowska on the other side.
“You are in detention because you were a bad girl, Lara. It’s fine to have a little spirit—you can give me a mean look here and there—but you need to obey me. Now, when you get out of here, I’m going to make you write those lines a hundred times anyway. Not only that, but I’m going to have you proofread and sign a mock legal agreement authorizing the transfer of your title to Mrs. Liao. And, to curb your needless pride, you will need to act out begging Mrs. Liao to take you on as her lowliest servant. Nothing will be beneath you, Lara—you will use your arrogant tongue to get her off if her husband doesn’t do the job, which he never does.”
“He never wears a condom, either.”
Lara shook her head.
There were vents that Lara hadn’t noticed until this moment and they began blowing hot air into her little cell. Hot, humid air: the place became like a steam chamber rather suddenly and rivulets of sweat ran down her teenage body, adding to her torment. Her mind was in total disarray: pain swirled with the mental image of herself as a sex slave for this terrible woman.
“I will give you one gift, on the understanding that you will study your lines while you’re in here.”
An object appeared on the screen—it looked like a floppy, knobbly dildo that was limp and folded over itself.
“This will appear in the floor of your cell. You can use it to itch yourself down there.”
As absurd and offensive as the idea of humping a limp dildo was, Lara was in truly dire straits right now. It looked like it would do the job nicely. Already the pain was subsiding and an itch was building between her legs.
“Now, get to work!”
A sex toy emerged from a slot in the floor , and Lara practically dove onto the rubber phallus. As soon as her clit touched it, she was moaning in delight as she could finally scratch the worst itching sensation she had felt in her life.
Words flashed up on the screen:
“I, Lara Rabynya, hereby relinquish my title as the Lady of Abington now and forevermore. I present it, with compliments, to Mrs. Karen Liao, and beg Her Ladyship to take me on as her lowliest servant. I am not worthy of this honor. To make up for my crime against Mrs. Liao, I will devote myself to her comfort and pleasure.”
Lara fervently humped the dildo as best she could in spite of all her ridiculous restraints, reading and committing to memory the most demeaning thing she had ever seen in her life.
“Mrphgh!” Lara cried out as the dildo snaked back down the little slot it came from, hiding away from her needful body.
The itching started up again, even worse now for being half-satisfied. The screen flashed a striking reddish-pink color, like a sunset over a forest fire that Lara would learn to associate with frustration, failure, and fear of defeat.
“Oh, that’s the other thing,” Miss Galkowska said.
“We have cameras in there that can read your micro-expressions. Right now you are showing contempt and disgust. But if you want to keep your little toy, I need to see sadness, fear and acceptance.”
Lara shut her eyes, as the totality of her predicament sunk in. Even here, they used the carrot and stick to get her to comply with their awful wishes. She knew she would do anything to scratch herself again, even if it meant tolerating this abuse. The itching was too terrible to withstand.
“The body can’t fake micro-expressions. The only way to get your toy back is if you truly believe the words on the screen. I suggest you visualize yourself as her servant: massaging her aching feet, or licking her flower. The smartscreen should have prepared your imagination for this—just think of everything you’ve seen so far, and we will try again.”
There wasn’t a ‘micro-expression’ of disgust on Lara’s face, but a full-on petulant glare. Her teacher’s cruelty was unfathomable. She was turning Lara against herself, and it was working. Already, the weaker part of Lara’s mind was offering up excuses for going along with this—and the itching only seemed to get worse the longer she put off her surrender.
She kept her resolution for an admirable amount of time, but it didn’t accomplish much and it seemed to sap her willpower all the while. When she finally allowed herself to imagine living as a meek servant girl, the mental images flooded through her mind so quickly she couldn’t tell one from another. Lara was scrubbing the floor on her hands and knees, or passing trays at the sorts of dinner parties she used to be invited to as an honored guest.
The more detailed her visions became, and the more often she pictured each scenario, the less disgusting they seemed to her. Except for when she imagined touching Mrs. Liao’s feet, or going down on her. No matter how many times she imagined doing these things, they filled her with revulsion.
The dildo appeared again, and Lara groaned in relief as she dove onto it, her entire body singing with joy. Then the text appeared on the screen again, and Lara read it, praying that she wouldn’t betray herself by showing how offensive it was to her. What a relief it was, when her sex toy stayed there!
“Well, you are not one hundred percent there, but you have made a lot of progress,” came Miss Galkowska’s voice, “so I will let you keep it for now.”
The screen switched over to a shot of the asylum again.
This must have been the washroom. Lara’s classmates had all paired up, and were apparently doing some kind of foot grooming. One girl was seated on a hard plastic chair, while her partner cut her nails, filed them to a pretty shape, then used a pumice paddle to exfoliate the skin on her soles. Corrine was conspicuously absent; she must have been the one filming this.
The camera paid special attention to the basins of water at each girl’s feet, which were made of clear plastic so that Lara could see the exfoliated skin, nail cuttings, and cuticle trimmings that the technicians had removed from each girls’ feet. She felt a fresh wave of revulsion as she saw these things—her innate dislike of feet making itself known. When one girl finished her duties, she took the plastic basin over to a sink and presented it to the camera for a closer inspection.
“Now, there is a serious risk of dehydration while you stay in that chamber, and we hate to waste things in this facility. So, to kill two birds with one stone, you will drink the foot bath water from each of your classmates! This one is from Lexi.”
Lara screamed into her gag; there was nothing more vile than this. She had seen nails floating in that brackish water—along with worse things. She tensed and flexed each muscle in her body, trying to escape what came next. It was pointless. Soon, the water came down the tube, which Lara blocked with her tongue at the last moment. She could taste its salty sweet flavor, and it nearly made her wretch.
“Lara, you should know by now that if you don’t drink that, you will be in for worse things.”
She knew the woman wasn’t bluffing, but she couldn’t bring herself to unstop the gag. Even though she could feel nail cuttings rest against her tongue, and she was starting to get thirsty, she just couldn’t do it.
Miss Galkowska sighed, and Lara’s electric collar sprang to life, zapping the poor girl. Her tongue recoiled backwards, allowing the an entire mouthful of water into her swelling cheeks. It was devastating to her ego—every part of her mind recoiled from the foot gunk that was filling her mouth. She thought of how far she had fallen—once eating healthy organic fare, but now eating gruel and drinking water from womens’ pedicure basins mixed with the gunk scraped from their bare feet.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she began the odious task of swallowing all the water, feeling nail cuttings tickle her throat as they went down. One got caught on her tooth, and she had to loosen it with her tongue. She grimaced as she felt its hard, sharp texture against her cheek. There was no time to rest; then next girl dumped her foot basin in, and Lara didn’t even try to resist anymore. Instead, she gulped it all down as quickly as possible.
She felt broken, pushed past all her limits. The institution had made her do something she would never have done for any reason before. She was made to confront her phobia in such a way that its power over her increased a million-fold and she gained practically nothing for it. There was still much to swallow, and she felt bloated by the time the last girl had dumped her basin down the drain that led to her mouth. Lara felt like she was in some awful womb, and being fed only the things that would devastate her spirit and debase her ego. But it wasn’t over.
Miss Galkowska appeared with a bedpan filled with urine. She perched it on the edge of the sink, and motioned for the camera to give Lara a clear view of its contents.
“Listen, pet,” the woman began.
“As your punishment for not drinking the foot bath sooner, you must drink some of my urine. I have mixed some of your own in there, too, so it’s fair. I want you to drink this right away, without a moment’s hesitation. If you don’t... well, you will be draining each of these girls’ bedpans for the next month.”
The woman poured the hot, steaming liquid down the tube that ended in Lara’s aristocratic mouth. She didn’t have time to think—as much as she wanted to comply, her body overrode her rational mind and she reflexively stuck her tongue to block the pipe. It was only for a moment.
She immediately withdrew her tongue and felt her entire mouth fill with the hot, salty, bitter fluid. There was quite a lot of it, to Lara’s dismay, but she swallowed it all in spite of how full she felt and how disgusting this was. She was worried she would throw up, but kept a hold of herself and soon the stuff was mostly gone. Except for a tiny rivulet that seemed to drop into her mouth for a while after the main body of fluid was drained away. It must have been trickling down the pipe more slowly.
Lara was panicked—would Miss Galkowska even notice that she had hesitated, just for a moment? They had sensors that could pick up her tiniest expressions—they must have noticed. She couldn’t do this again—she just couldn’t!
“Mm, well, you did an acceptable job. I won’t make you drink from your classmates’ urine pans,” Miss Galkowska said.
For even this minuscule win, Lara was happy. Even better: the cell seemed to have cooled off to an appreciable degree while she was obeying Miss Galkowska.
“But you did hesitate, so you will drink from mine. And maybe your own, if you misbehave. That is all.”
Lara’s spirits were dashed as quickly as they had risen. But the itching took up most of her attention, and she got back to her embarrassing self-stimulation. As she rubbed her sore clit against the dildo, new lines of text appeared on the screen. They read:
“I have been a total bitch to Uncle Errol. I need to make it up to him. It’s only right for him to live in the Manor, and if he wants to watch porn we should celebrate that. My actions show that I need him as a guardian, and I should compensate him fairly for his time.”
Lara gave a look of rage at the stupid screen. She did NOT want him loafing around her estate, watching his degrading porn all the time, and thinking that he was in control of her life! What sort of life would she have, if he were her guardian? No doubt he would expect her to wait on him, and ask his permission to do anything, and otherwise strictly control her life—
The screen flashed that unique red color and the dildo sunk into the floor. Lara was beside herself with anger, and the heat of the room built quickly to punish her natural outrage against accepting this criminal’s mastery over her life. The itching between her virgin lips dominated her thinking, and all she could do to distract herself was to imagine herself as a servant girl in all the stupid programs she had watched over the past several days.
The temperature and humidity rose rapidly, agonizing the poor Tomb Liberator. Her young body was soon drenched with sweat. She hoped that the next time the text popped up, she could at least fool them into thinking she had accepted its twisted proposition, and get a chance to soothe herself.
She knew that the only way to get her toy back was to accept the words on the screen as absolute truth. It worried her that as she thought about it again and again, it seemed less offensive and more like a means to an end. Her subconscious did all the legwork, slowly preparing her for a life spent as a pretty decoration for people who would never tire of using her in all of the most egregious ways. She had seen it already: as she became more dependent on others, they would become more derisive towards her. As she became more submissive, they would act more aggressively. Where did it all stop?
The Colombian guard’s words echoed in her mind: “it’s worse than hell.”
She wasn’t sure if she could do 16 months in this place. Even 16 hours in this cell was beyond imagining. They were changing her. She knew it. The things they wanted were totally unacceptable, and only served to keep her trapped here by making her confuse her escape with her total self-destruction.
But there was something strong in Lara Swift’s mind. Something that refused to break. She thought of her mother: proud and uncompromising. It was a mental locus that she used to withstand extreme conditions before, and it was effective even now. Then she thought of her father’s last will and testament, safely locked away in the vault beneath her manor. This was enough to give her the power she needed to prevent herself from utterly breaking down, even if she did feel like she had undergone a dark transformation in that evil womb.
The text appeared on the screen again, and Lara Swift tried to picture submitting to her “Uncle” Erroll without disgust. The best she could manage was quiet despair. Apparently this was satisfactory, because her beloved sex toy appeared, and the cell cooled down, and she felt a slight ease of her torment.
This process continued for quite some time.