Your Master Requires Your Commitment · Part 2 (2/4)
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The compartment was a close fit. Her head barely cleared the ceiling, and her shoulders rubbed against the sides. “Solitary” was obvious now; she was to be isolated, buried in a wall, cut off from all outside contact. She’d been locked in cages before during bondage sessions, but nothing like this. When the panel slid shut at her feet all exterior sounds were cut off, including Alisha’s renewed protests.
Time Out The light dimmed but didn’t go out completely. It helped to keep down a rising panic. He promised I wouldn’t be hurt, that he’d protect me. If I trust him then I should be alright.
Darla tried her best to lie quietly in her tiny prison. I have to remain silent; he told me not to speak. In any case, would anyone hear her? Of course he would, he’d be listening to make sure she was obedient. She clenched her jaws tight. There would be no further “unacceptable” conduct from her.
She tested the straps in a slow but determined effort. Those men knew what they were doing; she couldn’t move. Not that it really made a difference. There was so little room in the claustrophobic space that being tied down didn’t make much difference.
Unacceptable behavior, the reason she was in here, kept coming back to haunt her. She was paying the penalty with what those men called a “time out.” Darla had done her best not to draw their anger, yet thanks to Alisha it didn’t make any difference. All for one, one for all, just like the Three Musketeers. She had to admit some kind of punishment was justified, given Alisha’s hostile attitude. Shared accountability didn’t seem fair though. What did they expect me to do?
Her arranged visit to Mr. G’s place, though it was intense, had been nothing more than a roleplaying game. By rights she should be back at home in her apartment in Los Angeles, not buried inside a hole in the wall. Darla tried not to think about what Mr. G had told her, pointedly declaring what she really needed was to completely lose control, permanently. It was uncomfortably close to the truth, but she didn’t want to face the implications behind that conclusion.
How long would she have to remain in this tiny tomb? Minutes turn into hours when there is no way to measure the passage of time. Darla had only herself for company. This is definitely a time out, with nothing to do but reflect on my situation. “Situation”, a nice, euphemistic term for being held against her will, for unknown reasons, and no idea what the future might bring.
She had to back up. The reasons weren’t entirely unknown. That mysterious woman, Sally, the one she’d met at Mr. G’s place, was she the cause? Sally never forgets, those were the cryptic words passed on by Mr. G just before the van took her away. Was the enigmatic Sally the reason for her current predicament?
Or was it Mr. G who had sent her to this place? She couldn’t put out of her head his remark about her need to be controlled. Was she actually in the perfect place to find lasting happiness? She ought to be copying Alisha in a show of defiance, yet the moment one of those Wardens started talking there was an overwhelming urge to please him, to prove she could be obedient in executing his orders.
Despite all her efforts she was still being punished. Was it entirely Alisha’s fault, or did Darla share some of the blame? In the darkness her mind kept coming back to that question. Could she have done more to rein in Alisha’s temper? And what about my own attitude? It was so easy to blame others; was she blind to her own failings? She had spoken without permission, something that couldn’t be ignored. It was easy to lay the blame on Alisha, too easy. She had much to answer for as well.
Darla felt no resentment toward the men who had forced her into the claustrophobic hole in the wall. They represented authority, something she had difficulty in challenging. Especially when it was taken, assumed as a right without her consent. The way those men carried themselves, so self-assured their power over her could not be questioned; it got into her head and wouldn’t leave.
Then the lights went out. She was plunged into an inky blackness, without a hint of illumination. Her first thought was to assume she’d done something to provoke additional punishment, but that didn’t seem possible.
The Warden who had spoken to her, he promised to watch over her. I have to trust him, she repeated to herself over and over. Somehow, she sensed these words were not an idle promise.
A Nightmare The moment she saw what happened to Darla, Alisha began struggling again. She had been intimidated into reluctant cooperation after the head Warden had warned her to stop. Now she was trapped in a web of leather belts fastening her to the table. Maybe she couldn’t physically fight back, but she still had the means to put voice to her determined resistance.
“Unacceptable behavior” be damned, she was not going to be shoved into what looked like one of those morgue storage units on TV shows. Alisha made that clear in explicit and vulgar detail, though the men didn’t seem to be paying any attention to her protestations.
In she went, into the hole in the wall, head first. The moment her feet cleared the threshold she heard one of the Wardens say something about “enough of that” before the panel slammed shut. Alisha continued to scream ever more colorful invective, despite being cut off from the room outside her tiny box.
Once she realized they couldn’t hear her she gave up. Twisting and turning she tried to free herself, hoping to find some loose strap. Exhausted, she finally gave up on that too. It was all too clear she wasn’t going anywhere until those men came back for her. How long would that be? She had no idea. Without her smartphone she had no way to check the time anyway.
Would she ever see her phone again? Without it she felt cut off from the rest of the world. It had been confiscated when her fake “arrest” started what she assumed would be an adventure in undercover reporting. Alisha didn’t see the irony in worrying more about getting her phone back than being kidnapped.
They couldn’t leave her in this hole forever. Eventually they had to come back for her, but how long did she have to wait? At school in her Literature class one of the assignments had been to analyze an Edgar Allen Poe story, The Cask of Amontillado. In it the victim is lured into a cellar with the promise of a glass of an exceptional vintage wine, only to be walled up, never to be found again. The parallels with her situation weren’t lost on Alisha. There was always a possibility they would choose to leave her embedded in the wall, along with Darla. It was a simple way to get rid of them.
Alisha pushed that scenario out of her head. If they intended to do away with her then she’d be buried in a hole out in the desert instead of here. No, they had a plan for her. Yeah, but what is that plan? They certainly weren’t going to share it with her. Whatever it was, she was sure it involved her being incarcerated in this private prison for a lengthy period.
The Inspector had shown her the elaborate falsified records to go with her undercover investigation. Two to three years in a minimum-security prison, though in reality she’d be returned to the outside world after a few weeks. That was the promise. Instead, she wound up in a maximum-security facility, one with its own set of laws, and a sentence that was open-ended.
In a real prison solitary meant being kept away from other prisoners. Here it meant being entombed alive. Alisha was near panic, even though she did her best to hide it. All her dire threats of retaliation were an empty bluff, and the men in here knew it. Darla was right. She had walked into a skillfully laid trap, which had closed around her before she realized what had happened.
“Unacceptable behavior,” that was clear enough. The Wardens were tired of her pushing back and had chosen to put a stop to it. There was nothing to prevent them from escalating their “punishments” until it became a matter of her survival. She had no illusions as to what she now faced. In this poker game she had no cards to play and no credible bluff.
Then the lights went out. “No matter how bad, it can always get worse,” she muttered out loud. Were they listening? Probably, but she didn’t care.
Lying on her back in the dark, unable to move, Alisha took stock of her situation. There was no miracle rescue coming for her, she wasn’t going to escape, and if she continued to defy her captors, they might well resort to the most extreme measures to rid themselves of an irritating problem. If she admitted defeat, started cooperating, then she had a chance to better her fortunes at some point in the future. The idea left a bad taste in her mouth, but if the alternative were escalating “corrections” with possibly fatal results then she had no hope at all.
Staking a Claim “C’mon Bob, you’re kidding! No one is behind this Darla’s presence at the Center? How can that be? No way she’s here by choice.” The question came from Samuel Littleton, Sam to those who knew him. He was sitting with Robert in the cafeteria, having coffee before their shift began. Sam had been the extra Warden who had worked with Darla to keep her calm before she started her stay in solitary confinement.
“It’s complicated but yeah, she is unclaimed. There are some exceptional circumstances concerning her arrival but nothing that marks her as a potential troublemaker. That’s all I can say for now. The Director has issued an information blackout order for her, so I can’t go into details.” Bob sipped from his coffee cup. From watching Sam the last few days, he had a good idea of what was coming next.
Sam leaned back in his chair. “In that case, I’d like to arrange the schedule so I can spend more time supervising her. Nothing definite yet, let’s say I’m exploring possibilities.”
Bob nodded. “Sure, I don’t see a problem. Given her status I’ll have to run it by the Director, just as a formality. Meanwhile I’ll check the rotation to make sure you’re first on the scene. She’s still in Quarantine but I don’t see that lasting more than another day or two. You won’t be there every time, but it’s amazing how coincidences happen so often in here.”
Sam laughed. “Yeah, it’s positively eerie.” He glanced at his phone. “Guess we better get going. Wouldn’t want to keep the ladies waiting.”
After checking in at the start of shift the two Wardens went directly to what they called the “medical room”, though it was nothing of the sort. It was decorated with instruments and medical paraphernalia, plus there was the wall made to look like the storage shelves for a morgue, except the compartments weren’t refrigerated. The cold, clinical décor was deliberate, to instill a sense of foreboding for the unfortunate women who were in need of a “time out.”
Robert and Sam were the only two Wardens present, since they didn’t expect any trouble while releasing the “guests”, the euphemistic term in use at the Center for all women in the Secure Area. “We’ll start with Darla,” Robert explained. “The other one, Alisha, it won’t hurt for her to have a little more time to herself. Though I regret the necessity, we’ll have to come down hard on her for the time being. Or until she does something about her attitude.”
He gestured for Sam to stand to one side of the panel sealing Darla’s compartment. “I’ll open the door and pull her out. You’ll be the first one she sees. Keep a close eye on her reaction. Assuming she doesn’t turn violent I’ll remove the straps. When I finish you do the last one on her forehead.”
Sam nodded to show he understood. He turned to a dial on the wall and slowly started to turn it clockwise. This would bring up the lights so her eyes could adjust after being so long in the dark.
Out of the Darkness It wasn’t her mind playing tricks; the lights were back on. How long have I been in here? Darla had lost all track of time. She was thirsty, hungry, and the smell from the adult diaper she wore told her it was in desperate need of changing. Hours, days, she had no clue.
She could feel the dried tracks of tears on her cheeks. While she hoped the lights meant her ordeal was nearing an end, she was also well aware of the poor attitude that put her in here. “Unacceptable behavior,” the words wouldn’t go away. She was determined to redeem herself in the eyes of the Wardens.
I have years of experience with dominant men. That other woman, Alisha, has an excuse; I don’t. There had been plenty of time, in the dark, to compile a long list of her mistakes. Right from the first moment she had been careless, passive, indifferent to instructions, and worst of all flaunting blatant disrespect of the Wardens. It wasn’t by choice she was here, though in her mind that only added to the power they had over her. Like it or not from now on she had to be an active participant in whatever they planned for her.
Her heart leaped when the panel at her feet slid aside. Hands gripped the table top, pulling her out into the room onto a waiting gurney. Relief flooded in; it was over.
Once she cleared the entrance her first sight was of that same Warden hovering nearby. True to his word he was watching over her. Darla’s first reaction was to thank him but she caught herself in time. His last instructions had included a very specific order to wait for permission to speak.
For just a moment he lapsed from the image of the stern-faced Warden when a smile showed through the gruff exterior. It passed in less than a second but Darla didn’t miss it. He noticed, she thought, with a bit of pride in how well she obeyed his orders.
She couldn’t see the other Warden but did feel his hands on her legs when he began removing the straps. He did come into view when he worked his way up to her arms. She recognized him, the van driver, a label she’d given him since she didn’t know his actual name. Darla was careful not to move while he removed her restraints. Patience, one of them will let you know what to do next, the voice of experience spoke to her.
The last of the straps came off when Mr. Nice, the name she’d given the Warden closest to her, loosened the one across her forehead and lifted it off. It was an immense relief to be freed after being tied down for an extended period. Much as she wanted to jump up off the table and stretch every muscle Darla willed herself to lie quietly. The last thing she wanted was to be subjected to another “time out” for failing to learn her lesson.
Her Mr. Nice placed his hands on her shoulders while he leaned in close. “You did well.” His words of praise gave Darla a warm feeling of accomplishment. “Listen carefully. This is what will happen next. You will walk around the room first, to get some much-needed exercise. After that I’ll take you down the corridor where you can shower and clean up. I’ll get you something to eat, too. Then I’ll take you to a place where you can rest before we continue with the orientation.”
The moment of panic must have shown on her face, for he quickly reassured her. “Don’t worry, as long as you behave properly, you’ll be okay. We did take into account your cooperation. Your companion will continue with her time out for a while longer.”
While he spoke, he stared directly into Darla’s eyes. His voice was low but intent, as if he were reciting a story. At that moment there was nothing more important than the simple plan he’d laid out for her.
He took hold of her right arm. “Try to stand up. If you get dizzy you can sit back down. You have my permission to speak.”
Finally, she could talk again. “Thank you, sir. You’re very kind.” She swung her legs over the side and got to her feet. He held onto her arm to keep her steady. “I’m fine, sir. Should I do as you ask, walk around?” She looked up at him.
Suddenly Sam spun her around so her back was to him. “Hands behind your back, now!” He didn’t shout though his commanding tone was just as effective. Without even thinking her hands went to the small of her back, palms almost together. She felt as much as heard the click of the handcuffs closing on her wrists. Seconds later she felt the leg irons lock around her ankles.
In her adventures exploring the lifestyle alternatives this was the moment Darla couldn’t resist. For one second, she closed her eyes, lost in the wave of pleasure that swept over her. Dimly she was aware of the weight of the steel bracelets yet it wasn’t important. The man next to her had taken over with a total disregard for her consent.
When Darla opened her eyes again the other Warden, Mr. Van Driver, was staring at her intently, studying her reaction. He saw it, she realized, and he figured out what it means. Keeping secrets from these men would be difficult. They were experts, with years of experience. There was little point in trying to hide her reaction from them.
After leading her around the room for a few minutes he spoke up. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up. Your friend Alisha can wait.” Using his grip on her arm Sam steered Darla toward the room’s exit.
Break Time After a shower and some food Darla felt much better. She still wore nothing more than the chastity belt, plus the collar around her neck. Her hands were once again cuffed behind her back, and the length of chain between cuffs on her ankles was a reminder not to hurry if she tried to lengthen her stride. Even so, Darla wasn’t concerned about her present situation. The Warden would take care of her.
The ubiquitous Mr. Nice was escorting her somewhere yet to be revealed. It was uncanny how he always showed up to take custody of her, even though she’d seen several Wardens passing by them in the hallway. Maybe it was a deliberate action taken by whoever ran the Center. Whatever the reason she was positive if she asked there would be no explanation. They’ll tell me if I need to know. Darla had to smile at the thought. With that kind of attitude, she knew the place was growing on her.
Somewhere in the maze of identical hallways they came to a stop. Through the bars she saw a small room, little more than a bench against the far wall, with one occupant. Trina shot to her feet when they appeared. Darla envied her; she knew exactly what to do whenever a Warden showed up.
After unlocking the door, Mr. Nice led her inside. “Both of you will sit down. When we’re ready for you we’ll be back. If you need assistance, you have permission to stand up and call out for help. The two of you may talk quietly while you wait.”
Darla joined Trina on the bench. The Warden turned around, shut the door, locking it with his key, and walked off without looking back. When she looked over at Trina there was that frozen statue again, except this time seated. Trina faced the bars, not moving a muscle other than the faintest shake of her head.
Darla got the message. She tried to copy Trina’s perfect posture. He might come back, and if he did this is what he expected to see.
After about a minute or so Trina relaxed and stretched out her legs. “Good, you picked up on my warning. It’s a lazy attitude to not be cautious when a Warden leaves you alone. Never assume you can kick back right away. A little patience costs you nothing, but it is important to them,” she nodded towards the bars, “if we put in that little extra bit of effort in obeying them. Trust me, they notice, even if you don’t see it.”
It was one more tidbit to store away for future use. There was so much to learn and so little time given to her to figure it out. Darla leaned forward to hold up her bound hands. “He didn’t take the cuffs off. Why? We can’t leave; I don’t see the reason we have to sit like this.” She raised up her feet to rattle the chain linking her ankles together.
Trina shook her head. “Don’t ever ask questions like that. I have no idea why, and I’m not making any attempt to find out. Our responsibility is to accept the conditions imposed on us, period.” She leaned forward too. “Get used to this. Like it or not we must depend on the men here to decide what’s best for us. Personally, I like to be helpless, closely restrained, even being confined in a cage like this one. No worries, know what I mean? If there’s nothing you can do, then you don’t have to be concerned about getting it wrong. To each her own, though I would point out you can’t take these off.” She jerked on her cuffs. “They have this nagging habit of requiring a key, and somehow I never seem to have one.”
Darla leaned back against the wall. “I’ve noticed that too. I figured, you being part of the establishment here, you might be exempt from…” she held up her legs, shackled together, “from certain requirements.”
Trina laughed and shook her head. “Hardly. If anything, the rules are more strictly enforced for me. That’s something you have to watch out for. The better you are at following orders, the more the Wardens expect from you.”
“The collective punishment thing, you didn’t have to spend time in solitary. At least I didn’t see you in there,” Darla observed. Maybe there were degrees of accountability, with some being more guilty than others.
Trina sighed. “Yes, well that might have been easier than what really occurred. See, when I’m finished with my assignments in here my master picks me up and takes me home to our apartment, outside the Secure Area. Only that’s not going to happen tonight or perhaps for days to come. I was there when your friend had the meltdown. My part of the collective punishment is remaining in the Secure Area indefinitely. I have no idea how long that will last. You’ll learn that’s part of being subject to correction. You never know when it will end.”
“I’m so sorry. I try to talk some sense into Alisha but she won’t listen. She’s not my friend, by the way. We came here by different routes. The Wardens put us together.” Based on what Trina had told her, she was worse off than Darla or Alisha.
Trina shrugged. “There are times there’s nothing you can do except wait for the inevitable. Is the group policy a fair one? I can’t answer that either. It’s another one of those improper questions. Never, ever challenge the regulations for the Center. Rage against the machine all you want, just not while I’m around.”
Darla laughed. “When it comes to Alisha, I wish I were somewhere else all the time. It’s frustrating, trying to make her understand when she’s so fixated on getting out of here. I can see there’s only one way, and that’s to get with the program, whatever it is. She refuses to hear it.”
“Don’t stop trying. The Wardens know everything that goes on. They’ll notice your effort, even if it isn’t successful. I’ll cover this when Alisha rejoins us. For now, act as if everything you say or do counts toward their evaluation of your attitude. I can’t stress how important that is.”
Darla suspected there was a surveillance system. Trina had all but confirmed it, in a roundabout way. Was that why she was sitting here in a waiting room while Alisha was still being subjected to her time out? Maybe they were all responsible for each other, but the degree of accountability could differ.
She started to ask Trina about it but stopped before a word got out. Think it through, she told herself. Never question policy, Trina had specifically mentioned it. She must be perilously close to a prohibited question.
Trina studied Darla’s face. “What” she asked. “Something on your mind?”
It was Darla’s turn to shake her head. “Sorry, I don’t believe I’m allowed to discuss it.”
“Good for you, you’re learning. By the way, that’s the polite way to tell someone you ran into a rule. If you hear the phrase, change the subject.”
Changing Opinion “I want you to stand here, quietly. No matter what happens you are to remain where you are. Can I trust you to do this?” Sam faced Darla, who stood near the far wall in the medical room. He had come for her while she sat with Trina. The medical room was just about the last place she wanted to see again.
“Yes, sir, I won’t move, I promise.”
He backed up and looked her over. “Shoulders back, keep your head up and back straight. I want that chain between your ankles off the floor, move your feet further apart.” Darla didn’t hesitate.
She saw his eyes sweeping up and down, checking all the details, in the process making her self-conscious about her appearance. He must have liked what he saw, for he nodded in approval. “Much better. Patience and obedience, Darla, keep those in mind and you’ll do well in here. The Center can be harsh at times. But if you don’t lose sight of the basics, you’ll find it’s not so bad.”
He turned away and went over to the panel sealing the compartment still holding Alisha. After sliding open the cover they pulled her out onto the gurney. “How…long?” she croaked in a hoarse voice.
Neither of the Wardens answered her. What a stupid question, Darla thought. Part of the punishment is not knowing how long it will last. She did get at least an hour more than me, maybe two; there is some justice in this world. More and more Darla was getting tired of Alisha’s unceasing complaints. Maybe the time out would help to fix her attitude problem.
They didn’t immediately release her from the restraints. Instead, the head Warden spoke to her. “We aren’t done. Either you respect the rules from now on, or it’s back in the hole you go. What’s it going to be?”
“Please, I’ll…I’ll do whatever you want. Don’t put me back in there.” Darla could hear the desperation in Alisha’s voice. The isolation must have had a greater effect on her.
The Wardens didn’t seem to be convinced of Alisha’s sincerity. Darla watched while they huddled in one corner of the room, discussing something in low tones. She almost felt sorry for Alisha, still strapped down on the tabletop. Almost being the catch; Darla thought back to all the incidents that led up to this point. She didn’t want to see Alisha suffering, but the reality was she had brought it on herself. Darla had little sympathy for those who reaped the consequences from their own self-inflicted wounds.
The men must have settled their argument, whatever it was. One stood next to Alisha while another began loosening the straps. The first Warden, whom she’d never seen before, leaned over and spoke to Alisha. “Releasing you was not a unanimous decision. If there is a next time your time out will be in days. I hope we have reached an understanding.”
Darla shuddered at the thought of being trapped in that black hole for days on end. It was too much like being buried alive. Time slowed to a crawl inside that wall. Even the few hours Darla had spent inside were enough to leave her terrified she’d be sent back again.
Alisha was standing up, with the help of that first Warden. She shot a withering glance at Darla, who appeared none the worse for the experience. Mr. Nice, her Warden, came up from behind and took hold of Darla’s arms in a firm grip. “Remember this,” he warned, leaning in close. “You are one disobedient moment away from sharing the same fate as her. We do not tolerate insolence or a show of disrespect for our authority.”
Your Master Requires Your Commitment · Part 2 (2/4)
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