Chapter 10: Orientation

RAVEN, Status: MASTER. Log 010. SUBJECT 0601,

Today will mark the final day of Subject 0601’s introduction to the LILIEE Facility. I, along with MISTRESS MINERVA, will be informing the subject of what her day-to-day will look like from here on out, along with what sort of behavior is to be expected of her. Should the session go well, Subject 0601 will be tested on her obedience at the behest of myself and Minerva. However, should it go poorly, then Subject 0601 will be tested on her strength and stamina at the hands of a brutal punishment. There will be no more going easy on the girl from here on out. She is an official subject now and ought to be treated as such. Today’s session will instruct us on how best to carry out her treatment.

At some point during my drugged slumber, I had been hosed off after my little “accident.” My cheeks flushed every time I recalled waking up on that piss-soaked gurney, and I had to ball my body up as tight as possible to try and force myself through the shame. I knew that the staff was probably well desensitized to subjects soiling themselves, but that didn’t ease the embarrassment one bit. It didn’t help that I could still smell the stench of piss burrowed deep into my skin. I tried rubbing it out with the vile brown water from my cell’s sink, but I knew that only soap would scrub it away. Lucky for me, there was to be a shower in my future.

Strung up by my wrists in the tile cubicle, I let my body fall limp as the men worked in tandem to scrub me up and rinse me off. The less I tried to put up a fight, the easier the pain was to handle. The guard in charge of inspecting my cleanliness was a woman, which was a surprise. She wore thick-framed glasses and kept her face constantly pinched into a surly glare. Of course, she didn’t speak to me, only to the guards cleaning me. It seemed that whatever I was being all dressed up for was incredibly important, judging by how closely she inspected my every inch. It was vital that I was squeaky clean, she told the guards. They were often made to start all over, scrubbing over the same reddened skin until she was satisfied.

After all the scrubbing, rinsing, waxing, plucking, and dental work, I was dabbed with rich perfume, had my hair straightened, had my face done up in a light layer of makeup, and was dressed in what looked like a combination of a Sunday church dress and a wedding gown. The woman who inspected me called the dress a “débutante gown.” I was told that this was meant to be my debut, like I was the young heiress of a small fortune in the 1960s, ready to display myself and my skills to all the marryable men of the city. The dress was pure white and fell to my knees, where it fluffed out with the help of a heavy petticoat. I was given white kitten heels and white stockings that appeared like tights against my bare legs, but they fell short of obstructing my freshly hairless pussy, which had no underwear to protect it.

Without restraints, I was escorted to my torture room for the day, forced to keep my head down and avoid all eye contact with other guards, owners, or subjects. But there was no one that passed us by during the entire journey. It was as if the halls had been purposefully cleared out, just for me. Though I could still hear the distinct howling of erotic agony in the distance. Every new floor and each new corridor carried different symphonies of torment. Some were guttural, almost juicy, like the subjects were being horrifically mutilated, but others had a sing-song-like quality to them, as if they were being expertly raped. I shuddered at the sound of hesitance in the voices of those locked away. The feeling of terror as an unwelcome cock forces itself inside of you is visceral and raw—but what makes it worse is the niggling desire in the back of your mind, the voice you fight tooth and nail to shut up, that makes you want to beg for more. Pleasure and pain all wrapped up together; the feeling is undeniably addictive. But dehumanizing all the same. I balled my hands into tight fists to force the sinful desires deep down into the recesses of my mind, where they belonged.

The guards stopped me at a large, grandly decorated set of double doors, not unlike the ones I was brought to the day Raven took my virginity. I rocked back on my heels as the doors began to crack open. Dread overcame me, listening to the squeak of the hinges. I shook my head in defiance and stumbled back a step.

“No...” I whimpered as I fell into a guard’s thick, heavy arms.

He grunted in response and chucked me forward, passing me off to his buddy, who gave me the final shove into the room to seal my fate. I hit the ground hard, cursing as the door shut behind me before I could scramble back up to my feet. The fluffiness of my skirt was almost too cumbersome and made moving around swiftly a chore.

Whatever. At least I wasn’t in the medical wing anymore. I ran my tongue across the inside of my mouth, feeling the absence of the pinprick scars and swollen welts from the needle-filled gag I had been forced to wear. I shuddered at the possibility that all of that torment hadn’t actually happened. What proof did I have that this wasn’t all just some terrible dream?

I looked around me, seeing nothing but darkness stretching on forever. I couldn’t even see my body. I hesitated to move from where I stood, not knowing what dangers were scattered across the ground. I recalled Catherine’s story of her “reformation.” How she was thrown into a pitch-black room and forced to chase rats on a floor littered in glass and rocks. Even though I was wearing shoes for the first time in a long, long while, I was still hesitant to take more than a shuffle or two forward.

That was when realization hit me. I had been left alone in a room like that before; only instead of darkness that surrounded me, it was my own reflection. I knew what was waiting for me beyond the veil of black, but first I would have to offer my pride as a sacrifice. I recalled the instructions engraved into the golden plaque that I had stared so fervently at moments before Raven stole my virginity.

1. Kneel before your betters.

2. Lower your head and bask in your shame.

3. Place your palms in your lap in true submission.

4. Utter not a word, should you be rewarded with pain.

I sucked in a sharp breath and eased myself onto my knees. With my neck bent awkwardly and my hands in my lap, all I could do was wait and hope that I wasn’t missing my one and only chance at survival. If only I still remembered how to count time. It might have given me some way to cut through the boredom as I sat there in a silence so thick that it nearly had a heartbeat. Finally, the silence ended when a snap overhead sent a shockwave of fear coursing through my body. I jolted, swallowing a shriek, and felt the warm glow of a spotlight illuminating my pitiful state.

In front of me, a few dimmer, golden lights popped on, revealing an audience seated at the base of the small stage where I kneeled. When they began to half-heartedly applaud, my head jerked up to find Raven and Minerva sitting at a table dressed up like something I might find at a jazz bar. They both wore black: Minerva in a satin ballgown that flattered her figure and hugged her plump curves, and Raven in a fine black suit that accentuated his heavy, muscular frame. I couldn’t see anything but the two of them and their table; everything else was painted in shadow. The darkness bled around me, where all I could see was the front edge of the stage and a short staircase off to the side. Even the door I was brought through had disappeared against the wall.

Raven eased back into his seat, having been the first to quit applauding. With a devilish grin and narrowed eyes, he raised his palm as if toasting an invisible glass and said, “Rise, child. Display yourself to your master and your mistress.”

I nervously stacked my body back together like blocks, easing up onto unstable legs. I still kept my head down, though that was partially due to how blinding the spotlight felt against my weary eyelids. It made it far more difficult to study the shadows. I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were hiding something horrifically sadistic.

“Chin up, darling,” Minerva said with a purr. She crossed her legs with a grin so that she, too, could better relax.

Raven nodded. “Be proud of who you are, little one.”

“An official subject of the LILEE Facility,” Minerva fanned herself dramatically. “That is no simple title, my dear. You are to become the best of the best product on the carnal market. The crown jewel of sex slaves.”

“And given your age and supple body,” Raven’s eyes undressed me slowly as he studied me. “You’ll make quite the popular little toy.”

“That is our business, you see, if you are still unaware,” Minerva continued. She bit down on her lip with excitement. “L-I-L-E-E: the Labrinthian Institute of Labor Enslavement and Eroticism.”

Raven rubbed the petals of a large white lily that sat in a vase between him and Minerva. “This is an incredibly important job you are being bestowed. Take it in stride.”

“You will be molded into the perfect slave, fit to serve every single one of your masters’ or mistresses’ physical demands,” Minerva began. “Don’t think of this role as a task or a chore. This is a lifestyle. A lifestyle that is quite difficult to grasp for newcomers. That is where we step in. We are equipped to guide you into your new reality through whatever measures we deem necessary. If you are easily uncomfortable or have a low pain tolerance, then I would suggest complying with your owners’ wishes and letting go of your old life for good. The girl you once were is dead now, darling. Rejoice.”

Raven nodded, then let the petal go before he plucked it from the rest of the lovely flower. “Without slaves like you, our world would fall to pieces. Could you imagine if every single world leader, grand celebrity, criminal kingpin, or underground society didn’t have a vessel in which to expel all of their pent-up stress? It’s an honor, what you are doing.”

It didn’t feel like an honor. It didn’t even feel real. The more those two spoke, finishing each other’s sentences like haunted twins, the more I felt my body swaying where I stood. Nervousness bubbled up inside of me, sending me reeling with shock. If I wasn’t careful, I’d collapse right in front of them.

They were psychotic. They were demons, walking around in the flesh of human beings. How could they sit there and spout off all of this erotic nonsense and then parade themselves around as heroes? They weren’t saving the world; they were kidnapping people! Torturing them! Selling off their bodies as if they were the playthings of men!

“But before you can be properly trained,” Raven continued. He raised his voice, as if noticing that I was slowly drifting away. “You need to understand the structure you’ll be adopting. Not just what your day-to-day will look like, but who your owners are and what they are here to accomplish. You see, every session up until this point was nothing more than a precursor. An introduction, if you will. Your real training starts after this. We will be far less forgiving, little one. So you must be well-prepared.”

“Mistakes will be made,” Minerva continued for him. “That is inevitable, of course. However, it is your decision whether or not they will be made twice. And with that, I do applaud you for your excellent show of obedience just now. Assuming the submissive position before your master and mistress is incredibly vital to your sexual development and the diminishing of your dignity. Up until now, you have been given grace in terms of how long your master and I have waited before you kneel. After today, however, you will be brutally punished if you do not position yourself as a proper submissive immediately. Am I clear?”

I nodded and tried to say, “Yes, Mistress,” but the words disappeared, and all that came out was hollow breath.

Minerva clicked her tongue with disappointment, prompting Raven to speak for her. “Slaves must remain silent unless spoken to, little one. If your owner bestows you with the privilege of speech and asks you a question, you are to answer it. Care to try that again, or are you in need of an ... incentive?”

“Yes, Mistress,” I said, forcing the words out of my chest. “I understand.”

“Attagirl,” Raven whispered. “But now, I have asked you a question, too. Try again.”

I sucked in a sharp breath, careful not to make it too obvious that I was growing increasingly more and more annoyed. “No, Master, I do not need an incentive.”

“In the future,” Raven began, drawing out his words so that they buried into my skin like arrowheads. “You will not be given a second chance. Take note of that, little one, lest you suffer an easily avoidable fate.”

I nodded again. “Yes, Master.”

“Let’s try something,” Minerva interjected, her voice sickeningly chipper.

She clicked a button on a remote hidden in her palm, which opened up the floor directly in front of me. I yelped and stumbled back, watching the floorboards peel away and give room to a strange device being lifted up from beneath the stage. It was a black seat-like object, made of thick leather and shaped into an arch. Sat squarely in the center of its peak was a large, flesh-colored dildo, fitted with all the bulges and veins of the real thing. Though it looked like they had been well exaggerated to create a brutally dramatic texture.

“This is a saddle,” Minerva continued. “You will likely see many of these during your stay with us. Attached to it is a dildo. I’m sure you’re quite familiar with those by now. I want you to show us how you would lubricate that dildo for insertion.”

I glanced around for the bottle of lube, but there was none to be seen. When I opened my mouth to ask, Raven suddenly cracked with a knowing grin.

“You want me to ... suck it?” I asked, a tinge of disgust coloring my words.

“Oh, don’t say that like it’s something vile,” Minerva teased. “And, no, I didn’t say you needed to suck the toy. I said you needed to lubricate it. Sucking, licking, spitting—whatever it takes. Show me how you would accomplish this request.”

I shook my head and eased back onto my heels. “I ... No. You can’t make me!”

“Can’t we?” Minerva clicked another button, which turned on a strip of cold white lights behind her. They were strung over a glass case, which—with the aid of clear threads anchored into the ceiling—looked to be suspended in mid-air in the center of the room behind them. Inside the case sat a large collection of whips, paddles, canes, and riding crops. Each was made of either leather, wood, metal, or even glass. Many were decorated in blades, stones, studs, and spikes.

“Didn’t we just tell you what happens to disobedient slaves?” Raven asked. He didn’t once tear his eyes away from me, sending my body into a shuddering hell. “Compliance is key. Your pride will only wound you.”

The lights clicked off, yet I couldn’t stop seeing the outline of the glass case behind them. It was like a ghost, haunting the back of the room.