Chapter 9: A Good Cup of Tea

ROCKY, Status: DOCTOR. Log 009. SUBJECT 0601,

Subject 0601 will undergo a medical experiment today. This session is in no way linked to her overall care here at the facility, but I believe it is best to train the subjects not to possess prior expectations. The concept involves filling the subject’s rectum with hot and fresh tea, inserting the subject’s vagina with peeled lemons, and filling the subject’s urethra with honey. I will be joined by MOTHER CATHERINE, who will lend a helping hand as we use today’s experiment to give the subject some much-needed discipline.

> Another morning, another agony-packed day ahead of me. My scars were gone. My insides had been cleaned of all their aches and pains. Physically, I felt well-rested, but mentally and emotionally I was an exhausted wreck. I was like putty in the guards’ hands while they strapped me to a wheelchair. I spent the entire journey to my future torture room on the brink of tears, petrified of whatever fate was waiting for me. Being that I was brought to the medical wing, I would either be greeted by Rocky or Lucy, both of whom were likely steaming furious with me. Lucy actually had a decent reason to hate me, after I snitched on her, earning her a brutal raping at Winters’ hand, but Rocky’s hatred was in no way grounded in actions of my own. Yet I knew, given his brutal sadistic nature, that he was planning the utmost worst for me the moment he would be freed from the “Redemption Program,” as Winters called it. Of course, those two weren’t the only ones of my owners who hated me ... Catherine ushered the guards away, swiping her fingers through my hair behind me as we approached a set of double doors. I had forgotten she was with us for a moment, having taken on the responsibility of pushing my chair. She had been as silent as the grave, merely watching me through narrowed eyes as the guards strapped me down. She only spoke once we were alone.

“You’re going to need a lot more energy than that if you want to survive today,” she whispered in my ear. She tugged my hair to pull back my head, prompting a groan from me in lieu of an actual response. When I caught her sharpened eye, lined by delicately thin eyeliner and fixed into perfect points, I blurted out a proper reply, droning as I spoke.

“Yes, Mother. I’ll do my best.”

Catherine scowled and dropped my head with a harsh shove.

We weren’t yet inside of the suite, having stopped just beside its heavy metal doors. The hallway was empty, all except for a few guards making their rounds up and down the corridor’s twists and turns. Muffled screams echoed in my ears from subjects just like me—subjects being tormented nonstop, with no hope left that they might one day earn their freedom.

Catherine brandished a small pouch she had tied to the back of the chair, pulling out three toys from its velvet-lined belly: a big gag and two giant metal clamps. I paled at the sight of them, focused on their sharp, jagged teeth and the thick chain that connected them together.

“You should have informed us about your nurse’s blasphemy sooner,” Catherine scolded. She hovered the gag around my lips, waiting to strike the very second I opened my mouth to respond.

But I didn’t. I kept my jaw glued tight, glaring up at her in silent protest. She stared back, unblinking, like a lioness watching its prey.

“Are you going to be difficult today?” she snapped.

I shook my head, furrowing my brow deeper.

All she had to do was ask me to open my mouth. Disobedience meant punishment, and I frankly wasn’t sure if I had the gall to suffer any more unnecessary torture. Though, she’d beat me all the same for my brazen attitude. Another option would be to pry my mouth open herself or to get one of the passing guards to do it. Either would work all too easily, considering how weak and frail my body was. But Catherine didn’t actually want me gagged as much as she wanted to assert her dominance. The last time we faced off, she was punished brutally via a flaming hot coal inside of her rosy pink coin purse, all because of a crime that I committed under her watch. Screw Rocky and Lucy; Catherine no doubt had the biggest vendetta against me of anyone else in that building.

Catherine struck her palm against my cheek, knocking my vision blurry for a moment. Were I not connected to the chair via wrist, ankle, and chest straps, I surely would have crumbled to the ground. My entire face stung with red-hot fury. And though my chin began to quiver, it never fell open.

This was about pride.

“You won’t last long in here,” Catherine taunted with a devilish smirk. She cupped my chin in her harsh fingers, dragging a nail up my jawline until my neck was pulled so far forward that it ached. “I’m going to make sure of that.”

My eye twitched. I pulled myself closer to her until our breaths were one and the same. Then I ensnared her vision long enough to build up suspense inside of her beating heart. When I drew in a breath to speak, Catherine dropped her guard enough so that she wouldn’t be prepared when I hacked up a glob of spit and spewed it right into her eye.

“Slut,” I hissed.

Catherine let out a screech-like cry, similar to a wounded owl, and threw every curse in the book my way as I arrogantly settled back into the chair. Her hand rained down on my other cheek, hitting me even harder than before. Then another strike came. Then another, and another, and another; over and over and over again until we were both breathless and red in the face. Blood trickled down my lip where it had split. I suckled it, soaking up the taste.

With my mouth finally hanging open, Catherine wasted little time forcing the gag between my teeth. She tied it so tight around my face that the corners of my lips began to split. I heaved with each breath, desperate to remove the toy even after the buckle was locked into place. Catherine let out an accomplished chuckle, still breathless, and loomed overhead, basking in her victory.

“You will never win, little whore,” she teased, digging her thumb into the gash on my mouth.

We’ll see about that.

Catherine was the lowest on the totem pole, besides myself. From what I had observed from the six of them, no one cared about her. No one respected her. And most of all, no one feared her. There was no reason for me to treat her any differently. People with short fuses were always so quick to implode on themselves.

Still grinning with victory, Catherine brandished a short pocket knife from between her small, perky breasts. Before I could distract myself with wondering how it stayed in place all this time, she had the hem of my ragged shirt in her hand. She began slowly running the blade through its flesh until it parted like a curtain, exposing my tits and my belly. I held my breath as she poked the end of the knife into my sternum, begging her to do her worst. I could see in her eyes that she was hungry for blood. Her fingers twitched, ready to carve me to ribbons at the first sign of rebellion.

But there were other plans for me. Darker plans, no doubt.

Catherine settled the knife back into place and peeled back my shirt to expose both of my nipples. The chill of the hallway had already left them hard, forcing them to poke out like little flower buds as if they were begging for Catherine to torment them.

With the clamps she retrieved from the bag, Catherine snapped my nipples into submission. I hissed out a curse as the strong, metal teeth gnawed into my skin. My chest began to radiate with pain as Catherine squeezed the clips far tighter than they needed to go. I swallowed a shriek and instead let my torment slip out in a low, guttural growl.

Catherine gave the heavy chain between them a good, hard tug, ensuring that neither one of the clips was going anywhere. And with that, I was released from my wheelchair and forced to stand. She held onto the chain like a leash, knowing that—even though my hands were freed—I would have to brutally rip off my own nipples for an unlikely taste of freedom. I was desperate, but not stupid. Guards were still posted everywhere.

The same sterile, white-tile room greeted me as I was led through the suite’s doors. There was one wall covered in cabinets, counters, and a large sink, as per usual, and a gynecology exam table waited for me beneath a collection of glaringly bright surgical lights. Both dread and boredom encased me, creating a somewhat confusing emotion. I was getting tired of the medical treatments. Tired of the experiments and all the poking and prodding. Winters mentioned the day before that they were coming to an end. Part of me was excited by the news, but I couldn’t help but wonder if what followed was going to be far, far worse. Knowing those freaks, it absolutely was.

The only thing different in the medical room that day was Rocky, who stood basking beneath the surgical lights, waiting for me. He stared me down with his haunting, ghostly eyes, and his black lips curled into a frown. Though he was mostly covered in form-fitting black clothes and his white lab coat, I could see gauze peeking out from the hems of his sleeves and collar where his wrists and neck had been bandaged. There were old stitches on his cheek as well, as if he had been beaten and then sewn back up. It gave me an odd sense of accomplishment, knowing that I had caused that man to suffer punishment without even meaning to. At least my owners weren’t exempt from torture, either.

“Hello,” he said coldly. His lips cracked with a slight grin, but his eyes remained soulless and evil.

He stepped out of the way, allowing Catherine to drag me over to the examination table. The two of them worked in tandem to push and shove me onto its surface, all the while making sure to tug at my sensitive nipples in the hopes of hearing me break with a sob. I kept myself as silent as possible, whimpering only when Catherine snapped the leather straps over my wrists and ankles as tight as she could. My fingers and toes began going numb all too quickly, leaving me to squirm and writhe in hopes of regaining blood flow.

Rocky pulled up a chair between my legs, brandishing a large, cold pair of scissors. He delicately dragged them along my ankle, tickling my skin as he snipped a gash through my pants’ hem.

“It’s been a very long time,” he said with a sadistic hum. Slowly, he glided the scissors up my leg, cutting away my pants in a single line. “Do you know just how long?”

I shook my head, fighting against the grip of the leather belt that bound me down by my forehead.

Rocky’s face fell dark. “We aren’t supposed to tell you. Maintaining the innocence of your immortal consciousnesses is vital to perfecting your treatment.” He punctuated his sentence with a harsh snip at my other ankle, finishing his work with elegance and grace. Before he peeled my pants away, Rocky positioned the scissors squarely between my thighs, where the back of the blades teased my quivering clit. Before he continued, he cut the last of my pants away, all while holding onto my gaze with a studious kind of intensity. “Four months, eleven days, six hours, and twenty-three minutes.”

Blood drained from my face within seconds. I felt like a rock plummeting into a deep, dark lake. Had I not been lying down, I surely would have fainted. Rocky knew it, too. His lips cracked with a grin that only made my nausea worse, then ripped the scrap fabric of my pants away, leaving me completely nude from the waist down.

The last time I had seen him was during my impregnation. That had to be, what? Three sessions ago? I knew that I had been asleep for at least six weeks before I could be tested a second time, but I also knew that my electrotherapy and—I swallowed vomit—my rectal cavity tests were back-to-back. There was nearly a quarter of a year unaccounted for in my memories, yet I hadn’t even aged a day.

“I was only released recently,” Rocky droned on. “After a proper investigation could be launched, of course. I believe I have only been a free man for a week. Do you know what four months of brutal reconditioning can do to a man? It makes your torture look like child’s play.”

Somehow, I found enough energy left inside of me, and I lunged forward in my restraints, cursing at him through my gag. A surprising amount of words managed to slip through coherently. In the shadow of the room, Catherine stepped forward, prepared to punish my insolence, but Rocky extended his hand to ward her away.

“No,” he said sternly to me. “You don’t know. Because you have the luxury of being put to sleep. Your injuries are healed. Your memories fade. They weaken. They disappear altogether. Me? I remember all of it. The beatings, the shock treatments, the long, drug-filled nights, the days spent with no food, no water, and nowhere to relieve myself but my own clothes.

“We take our jobs very seriously here, Subject Zero-Six-Zero-One. Threatening the life of any subject—especially one of your ranking, it would seem—threatens this entire facility’s safety and reputation. Mistakes are not to be tolerated. Ask your mother what they did to her after your little excursion through the woods.”

Catherine narrowed her eyes at me, almost as if waiting for me to ask. But I already knew what had happened to her. I had watched the whole thing go down, myself. I could picture it so clearly: when Raven cornered her in the branding shed and forced her to rape herself with a hot, burning coal. I could still smell her scorching flesh.

“They said I needed ‘more practice,’” Catherine explained. Her voice was sharp like a poisoned blade. “Apparently, I needed to be better equipped at stopping escapees so that the guards wouldn’t have to snipe them down.” She almost shuddered, but she caught herself and instead pursed her lips and turned away. “They put needles in my feet and made me run around naked in a pitch-black gymnasium chasing rats. The room was littered with sharp rocks, broken glass, and bone fragments. I was not allowed out until I had caught five hundred. I spent two months in that room, little girl. I ate what I caught and pissed wherever I could. And your father? For the crime of giving you the incorrect branding, he was bathed in molten metal until he could draw that tacky little orchid perfectly.”

“You think you’re the only one suffering?” Rocky asked. He tutted his tongue as he rose to his feet, blocking out the light above me. “The difference is that we are tortured because we are needed. You are tortured because you are wanted. There are thousands of slaves like you—people who can afford to make mistakes, because you’re easily replaceable outside of this facility. But we are too important to be so careless with the rules. Which is why I would never allow myself to make such a pathetic error as the one I was accused of.”