Everbind · Part 1

Everbind · Part 1 (1/2)
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The courtroom buzzed with grim anticipation as people filled the benches, craning their necks for a glimpse of the defendant. Alice Merton, a bright, twenty-eight-year-old scientist, walked into the room, a stark figure in her striped prison garb. Her back was rigid, her steps measured, defiance etched in every line of her posture. Her face, framed by tousled brunette hair pulled into a severe bun, was obscured by a clear spit mask, a dehumanizing shield against unwanted aggression. Yet, through it, her eyes were discernible – clear, icy blue, and full of steely resolve.

Her wrists were secured behind her in handcuffs, linked to a wide, locked leather belt. Each step she took was measured, the clinking of leg cuffs echoing ominously in the hushed room. Alice Merton, once a symbol of scientific innovation, now wore the uniform of a criminal. And yet, her demeanor radiated calm.

Alice was a renowned figure in her field, acclaimed for her intellect and unrelenting drive. Her groundbreaking creation, the Everbind, had promised a revolutionary solution to a pressing societal issue. Prisons, bursting at the seams with inmates, were a sore point for the government. The call had been issued – a significant reward promised to anyone who could provide a viable solution to the prison overpopulation crisis. Alice, with her pragmatic mind and absence of moral constraints, had answered that call. As the creator of the Everbind, a device designed to replace physical imprisonment with a more 'humane' yet punitive alternative, Alice had become a household name. She was the face of a new era, where scientific progress was once again hailed as the solution to society's greatest challenges.

But today, the adoration had evaporated, replaced by an air of trepidation and resentment. Alice Merton stood in the dock not as a revered inventor but as a defendant, accused of a crime that threatened to undo everything she had worked so hard to achieve.

Her gaze remained steadfast, her face devoid of any tell-tale sign of fear or regret, as the prosecutor began to weave the intricate tale of her rise and impending fall; a damning narrative of her actions. Evidence was previewed – testimonies of traumatized prisoners, legal statutes regarding unauthorized punishment methods, and a damning paper trail leading directly to Alice. His words hung heavy in the air, painting a bleak picture of Alice's conduct.

In contrast, her defense lawyer put forth a passionate argument about her intentions. Alice was presented as a brilliant mind that had aimed to solve a pervasive problem. The Everbind was showcased not as a cruel tool of punishment, but as a revolutionary solution designed to maintain societal order. Alice, he argued, had merely taken the steps necessary for the betterment of society, even if those steps were now deemed too extreme.

The tense air in the courtroom grew heavier as the prosecutor introduced his first witness. The man who stepped forward was hardened and embittered, his eyes gleaming with an unyielding fury. He was a former inmate, a man who had been subjected to the cruel, relentless torment of the Everbind as a test subject.

"Mr. Stanton," began the prosecutor, his voice crisp and clear, echoing in the stillness, "Can you please describe the Everbind for us?"

Stanton's glare flicked momentarily towards Alice. "It's like wearing your own personal prison. Metal collar, cuffs, and a belt. The collar brands you, the cuffs control you."

"And the belt?" the prosecutor coaxed, encouraging the testimony to tread into the uncomfortable territory.

With a grimace and a tense pause, Stanton continued, "It… it encircles you… fully. Targets your… your manhood, providing constant, relentless stimulation. Non-stop."

Silence enveloped the room, a heavy weight pressing down on each listener as they processed his words. Then, with a hint of a smirk, the prosecutor posed a seemingly light-hearted question, "But Mr. Stanton, to some that might sound like a… rather pleasurable experience. Why is this a bad thing?"

Stanton's face contorted, his eyes flashing with deep-seated resentment. "It's not just stimulation, it's… it's denial. It gets you close… very close… and then… nothing. It backs off, denying you. At first, it… it wasn't bad. Even enjoyable. But then… it becomes hell. An endless cycle of being brought to the edge and then… nothing. It doesn't stop. It never stops."

His final words hung heavily in the charged atmosphere of the courtroom. His account, one of endless denial and relentless stimulation, filled the room with palpable unease. As Stanton was dismissed from the stand, his burning, accusatory gaze remained locked on Alice, the creator of the Everbind. Amid the impact of Stanton's testimony, Alice sat still, her face a mask of icy composure, bearing the brunt of the reality of her invention being laid bare.

The weight of the courtroom shifted subtly as the prosecutor outlined the legal boundaries that Alice's creation had allegedly crossed. His voice echoed starkly, a clear and relentless drum of accusations. "The Penal Code explicitly forbids any form of torture not sanctioned by the government. Deploying such methods without consent, without oversight, is a violation of prisoner rights."

His statement, emphatic and cold, hung in the air, resonating in the silence that followed. The magnitude of the accusation was clear – Alice had not merely innovated; she had violated a fundamental societal boundary.

As the prosecutor took his seat, Alice's lawyer rose to mount the defense. He spoke with conviction, outlining the necessity of the Everbind in managing a crisis of prison overcrowding. He emphasized its innovative nature and the potential it held to revolutionize punitive measures. His arguments were impassioned and well-articulated, but fell short in rebutting the undeniable point – the Everbind had been used on the unwilling without legal approval.

Meanwhile, Alice sat, her gaze unwavering, her thoughts a chaotic flurry. She remembered the tireless hours spent in designing the Everbind, the elation of each breakthrough, the crushing weight of each setback. She had been driven by ambition, by a desire to create a solution. It was a tool of punishment – of course it would inflict pain. In her mind, the prisoners deserved what they got.

Her eyes flicked toward the press, the cameras, and the spectators. She was uncomfortably aware of her prison garb and the restraints she currently wore. She felt a flush of embarrassment, a feeling of indignation. Why should she be embarrassed? She was not the criminal in the room. The irony was not lost on her.

Finally, her thoughts strayed to her fiancé, whom she had not seen since her arrest two months ago. He had not come to the trial. Why hadn't he? Did he believe her to be guilty? Or was it the stigma of being associated with her, the creator of the infamous Everbind? The thought lingered, a bitter sting amidst the turmoil. As the defense wound down, Alice sat, unrepentant, defiant, her resolve steeled against the tide of public sentiment that surged against her.

With her handcuffed hands secured behind her back, Alice was led from the courtroom's hotbed of murmurs and whispers into the cold sterility of the corridor. She was taken to a holding area that was more a cage than a room, its bare steel bars a stark gray against the pallid walls.

The cage, a cramped five-by-five-foot enclosure with a hard concrete floor, housed a single feature: a metal collar bolted to the wall. The officer, his face unreadable, led Alice into the cage, fastening the collar around her neck. The rattle of the chains echoed ominously in the silent room. Her handcuffs were left intact; the collar was just another layer of restraint.

A female guard, broad-shouldered and stern-faced, approached with a tray. The aroma of overcooked vegetables and under-seasoned meat wafted from the unappetizing lump of food on the plate. The spit mask was removed from Alice's face, her mouth now free but her hands still securely fastened behind her. The guard began the task of hand-feeding Alice, an inherently humiliating process made even more so by Alice's biting remarks.

The guard remained stonily silent, enduring Alice's barbs. When Alice suggested the guard eat the dismal meal herself, the guard responded with a deliberate smear of mashed potatoes across Alice's face. The petty action was almost more degrading than the handcuffs or the collar, leaving Alice with a trail of cold, lumpy mash on her cheek and no way to remove it.

Waiting for the verdict twisted time. Alice's lawyer had cautioned that a long deliberation was a good sign, indicative of a split decision. But when the officer returned after what seemed like an alarmingly short time, Alice's heart sank. A short deliberation likely meant a unanimous verdict, and in her case, that wasn't likely to be in her favor. As she was led back towards the courtroom, the taste of the terrible meal still lingering in her mouth, Alice prepared herself for the worst.

Alice's return to the courtroom was marked by an unkind smattering of laughter. The residue of her lunch was now spread across her face, mashed into the clear spit mask she wore. Embarrassment flared in her cheeks, but she held her head high, refusing to give the spectators the satisfaction of seeing her break.

Through the blur of faces, Alice spotted her fiance. His face was a stony mask, his eyes devoid of any warmth or reassurance. He looked uncomfortable, even distressed, but he did not meet Alice's eyes. She swallowed hard, a sudden pang of loneliness striking her.

The gavel rang out, silence descending swiftly. The judge, an older man with an imposing presence, called the court back into session. The jury foreman, a middle-aged woman with a sympathetic look, stood to read the verdict. Alice felt her heartbeat quicken, each count she was found guilty of felt like another nail in her coffin. By the time the foreman reached the final count, Alice’s world had narrowed down to that one damning word repeated forty-one times: Guilty.

Without a moment's pause, the judge made his proclamation, "In light of the crimes committed, and under the newly enacted legislation permitting immediate sentencing into an Everbind, I hereby sentence you, Alice, to a lifetime under the effect of an Everbind, set to maximum."

The words crashed into Alice like a tidal wave. The Everbind at maximum – it was something she had never envisioned for long-term use. It was intended as an ultimate deterrent, a punishment too severe for even the most hardened criminal to endure for more than a week. Now, it was to be her reality. The harsh reality struck Alice like a bolt of lightning. She imagined the ceaseless torment she was about to be subjected to, the relentless arousal and denial, the electrical torment.

The last orgasm she'd ever had, she now realized, was already a part of her past. It was in her cell, a stolen moment of pleasure with a fellow inmate – a moment that had felt daring and dangerous at the time but was now tinged with the bitter realization that it would be the last of its kind.

Both of them had been shackled, the standard protocol of the penal system, their handcuffs and leg irons clinking softly as they maneuvered within the confines of their small dark cell. Alice recalled the nervous excitement that had fueled their encounter, the thrill of forbidden intimacy in a world that seemed determined to strip them of any semblance of pleasure or humanity. They'd found a way to turn their restraints into a bizarre game of closeness and distance, an exploration of touch that was tantalizing in its limitations.

There was an urgency in their encounter, a raw hunger driven as much by the harsh reality of their circumstances as by any inherent attraction. She remembered the furtive whispers, the stolen glances, and the way her heart pounded in her chest as they pushed the boundaries of their imprisonment. The climax, when it came, was as much a release of pent-up frustration and fear as it was a moment of physical pleasure.

Her melancholic reverie was abruptly interrupted as she heard the judge address her fiancé. His words cut through her like a sharp knife, each syllable twisting deeper into her heart.

"Sir," the judge began, his voice stern yet respectful, "Once Alice has been fitted with the Everbind, can she be released into your care?"

Her fiancé's answer came without hesitation, cold and firm. "No, Your Honor. I cannot accept a criminal into my home, and I won't marry a woman who cannot fulfill her wifely duties." His words echoed through the silent courtroom, the finality of his decision reverberating within Alice. Her last shred of hope, the last flicker of her old life, was extinguished.

The judge nodded solemnly, his gaze expressing a measure of sympathy, but it was laced with the harsh reality of the law. "That is a wise decision, young man. We accept your choice." He turned his attention back to Alice, his voice echoing across the courtroom. "In light of this, Alice will be remanded to a halfway house following the fitting of the Everbind."

The gavel rang out, the sound of wood against wood signaling the end of Alice's old life and the beginning of a new, terrifying existence. She was no longer Alice the scientist, the innovator, the fiancée. She was Alice the condemned, wearer of Everbind, prisoner of her creation.

Alice was roughly led out of the courtroom, her heart pounding in her chest as they approached a door labeled "Everbind Fitting Wing". Her blood ran cold. She knew what lay behind that door, the sterile, clinical room that was soon to be her personal hell.

As she was escorted into the room, she saw a collar hanging from a chain against a stark white wall, mirrored walls on the other sides, and a table filled with instruments of measurement. A guard attached the collar around her neck, chaining her to the wall. "Don't even think about trying anything," the guard warned her gruffly, her face impassive. Firmly attached to the wall, the guard fished out his keys and removed Alice’s cuffs, belt, and leg shackles.

A fleeting thought of escape fluttered through Alice's mind, but she pushed it away. There was no escape. The reality of the situation hit her like a sledgehammer.

The cold, emotionless hands of the guard stripped Alice of her prison jumpsuit, her body bared to the sterile room. Once stripped, she found her wrists being re-cuffed, chains stretching from her wrists to a point on the ceiling. The collar was removed so the chains could be drawn tight, pulling her arms up and making her stand on her tiptoes in the center of the room. She was left in this exposed and vulnerable position, her body strung up like a marionette. She shuffled in place, trying to find if there was any comfort, but she quickly found that not moving at all was the best she could do.

A male technician entered the room, holding a clipboard and an assortment of measuring tools. He ignored her plight, his gaze clinical and detached as he set to work. His gloved hands and tape roved her body, a cold, impersonal touch that amplified her sense of exposure. His attention was particularly focused on her breasts and hips, his measuring tape encircling them, taking exact measurements of her most intimate dimensions.

Alice was in good shape, her body honed by workouts both before and after her incarceration, along with a strict diet. Her breasts, modestly sized but firm, were subjected to the impersonal touch of the technician. His cold, detached professionalism served only to amplify the degradation she was experiencing.

Moving to her hips, the technician’s hands traced the curvaceous line of her figure, taking note of the measurements before moving on to the next phase of the assessment. As he prepared the pre-made dildos of varying sizes, Alice’s face flushed crimson, her teeth grinding together in humiliation.

Despite the embarrassment, an odd memory bubbled up in her mind. She remembered a time, years ago, during the initial development phase of the Everbind, when she had taken these same silicone models home to test their size and fit. She had ended up using them for a more pleasurable purpose, indulging in a solitary session of self-pleasure. Even in her current predicament, she couldn't help but remember the pleasure they'd brought her then. It was a memory far removed from her current reality.

The examination progressed and soon enough, the technician found the size that fit her perfectly. The irony wasn’t lost on Alice, knowing that these tools of pleasure she'd once enjoyed were now to be her tools of torment.

After the initial measurements, the technician's role took an even more intimate turn. He explained that the Everbind needed to fit perfectly, not only in her natural state but also when she was aroused. It was an essential part of the design, to ensure its effectiveness, and Alice knew it. She had devised this part of the process, fully aware of the importance of a perfect fit, but experiencing it personally was a whole different reality.

His hands moved to her breasts, massaging them gently at first, then tweaking her nipples until they were hard and taut. Alice squirmed, her breath hitching as a reluctant heat began to build within her. It felt wrong, so wrong to be aroused under such circumstances, yet her body betrayed her.

The technician then moved his hand lower, his fingers skillfully bringing her to a state of arousal. She bit back a moan, her cheeks burning with shame. She was naked, restrained, and being fondled by a technician – all under the pretense of 'getting the correct fit'. It was humiliating.

Alice's mind waged war against her body, her thoughts fluttering frantically as she tried to detach herself from the all-too-real sensations coursing through her. She knew that if she allowed herself to become fully aroused, the measurements would be even more accurate, making the Everbind's effect more powerful, more inescapable. She tried to think of anything else – tax codes, technical manuals, the cold

Everbind · Part 1 (1/2)
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