Chapter 1: Breaking In

RAVEN, Status: MASTER. Log 001. SUBJECT 0601, Subject 0601 appears hesitant toward her new life; however, she shows no signs of hostility. This is a common response, and it should not be taken as a sign of unwanted behavior as of yet. By no means is this enough evidence to justify scheduling a premeditated euthanasia date. I believe Subject 0601 might prove to be far more useful to this institution than an average run-of-the-mill slave. She has been introduced to the LILEE as the newest candidate for the Orchid Operation, which will mark her as a vital resource, should she prove that she is up for the task.

Promptly following the utterly humiliating and dehumanizing auction, I was gagged once more and shoved into another van along with three of my fellow prisoners. The brutal truth of what had just happened hadn’t yet settled into our heads. We were all in shock beside one another, keeping our heads low and our eyes shut. Our shoulders jostled and bumped with every pebble in the road. We flinched at each other’s touch. When someone would whimper through our gags, frightened by the van’s hectic turns, a guard stationed alongside us would put a knife to their throat until they returned to silence. I didn’t dare make the tiniest of peeps, yet the guard still made sure to threaten me, mistaking my neighbor’s fearful voice for my own. The blade was cold against my neck and felt freshly sharpened.

“Frail little thing,” the guard had called me. His breath smelled of cigarettes and sadism. I swallowed a repulsed gag at the sound of his smoke-gnarled voice. The movement forced the blade deeper into my skin with a sharp pinch.

I was still trembling when he pulled the knife away, though that was partially because I hadn’t been given clothes yet. None of us had. The only coverings we wore were the wooden signs that hung off of our necks, each branded with a four-digit number. Mine was 0-6-0-1. I had no real name anymore, as it seemed. I was doomed to be a digit among thousands of helpless prisoners. The facility, LILEE, kept 9999 “active subjects” in their facility at all times, alongside an unknown number of surplus kidnapees that they kept underground, just in case a subject were to die and their number had to be replaced. That was why I had spent so long curled up in that dog cage, eating and drinking and excreting through tubes for what easily could have been months on end. The last poor soul who had been forcefully given the number “0601” had been retired, so I heard. I shuddered, horrified at the blatant implication.

The van suddenly screeched to a halt, startling all of the prisoners around me. I struggled to hold still when the guard brandished his knife, threatening us back into submission. My teeth dug deeper into my large red ball gag to keep from sobbing. The van’s doors unlatched from the outside, inviting in a rush of cold air when they opened. I broke out into violent shivers, trying to drape my hip-length pitch-black hair over my shoulders as a makeshift blanket. Being that I was the closest to the doors, two pairs of strong, iron-gripped hands grabbed me first. I didn’t struggle against them as I was thrown out onto a sharp gravel pathway, and I swallowed my pride when my wrists were bound behind my back with sharp plastic ties.

I was forced to follow one of the guards while the other stayed close to my backside. My heart hung heavy for the other prisoners waiting for their own escorts to whisk them away to God knows where. I didn’t have the time to dwell on the horrors that they were meant to face, because I had horrors of my very own. It took all of my focus to keep up with the guards’ pace. With every desperate step, the wooden sign slapped against my tiny breasts. The cold had hardened my nipples into tiny pink stones, leaving them perked up and pushed out. As I stumbled forward, the sign bounced against my sensitive little nodules, forcing them to endure a steady incline of pain. A single tear trickled down my cheek.

I didn’t have a sense of scale for the actual size of the building, but considering that it looked like I was still underground—even despite all that driving—I had to wonder if it was the size of a small town. I was dragged down a tunnel, where other vehicles passed us by. The sounds of their tires crunching the gravel beneath them barely drowned out the distant wails of my fellow prisoners around me. Luckily, the noises would soon cease as I was dragged through a doorway hidden flush against the curved wall. A chill overcame my body as the guards dragged me through a labyrinth of identical corridors, each marked with strange symbols born of an entirely unique language. When we finally came to a stop, I was so distracted with studying my surroundings that I slammed into the back of the guard before me. He sneered and shoved me into the arms of the other, who wrapped me in his heavy, perverted hands. He still couldn’t resist letting his palm slip underneath my hanging sign and delicately molesting my breasts. His hands felt like sandpaper, and the sound of his light, airy chuckle made me want to purge. Still, I shuddered and choked down the humiliation.

Before I was pushed through a second doorway, the guards stripped me of my sign and hung it on the wall outside. I held my breath as I was ushered in with a hearty shove. The room was wrapped in wood paneling from the floor to the ceiling, offering a warmer contrast to the concrete walls I had been forced to scrape through. Though there weren’t any windows in sight. Or any doors, oddly enough. When the entrance behind me swung closed, it fell completely flush with the wall, its seams perfectly aligning with the panels so as to remain utterly invisible. I jolted as it locked with a heavy snap. A string inside my chest snapped, sending a rush of anxious pain from my heart to my toes. They curled up tight against the floor while I nervously scanned the room’s decor.

Two thick wooden pillars framed an odd structure in the center of the room. It sat beneath a burning spotlight that was identical to the one I had been bathing in when I was auctioned off. The structure was sort of shaped like a childish depiction of a house, with the top of it ending in a sharpened point facing toward the ceiling. Black stains colored the triangle, trickling down the wood. Larger, darker splotches stained the floor beneath them. I shuddered to think of the horrible things that had occurred there, probably to other prisoners just like me. Were they going to murder me? It felt morbidly medieval to kill me in such a manner.

The guard who had a fondness for my tits swooped up behind me and began releasing my cuffs while his partner was swift to replace them with heavy iron shackles. A matching pair was locked around my ankles, weighing my body down. It would have been hopeless to try and escape. Not only were the guards both twice my size, but I had forgotten where the door was. I would likely still be pawing at the walls in a fit of sobs by the time the two of them would catch up to me.

My miniature frame made the guards’ job easy as they each took an arm and hoisted me up off of my feet with almost no struggle. I kicked my legs, flailing like a fish out of water in hopes of returning to the ground, but the guards remained unfazed. The heavy gag in my mouth soaked up my pleas for mercy like a sponge. Those very same pleas swiftly turned into cries of pain as I was forced to straddle the triangular structure, where its sharpened point buried itself deep between my thighs. With my short legs dangling off of the edge, my body weight dragged me deeper and deeper onto the pinnacle, despite the agony burning up into my pussy. My head jerked back with a sob that worsened as one of the guards began pinching apart my soft bubblegum lips until they draped across either side of the triangle, allowing it to tenderize my rosy flesh. No one had ever touched me there before. Feeling foreign fingers on my body made me ill.

I squeezed my eyes shut to hold back more burning tears of humiliation as the guard began running his palm the length of my thigh. My skin prickled, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up. The guard chuckled in response.

Beneath me rang out a rattling of chains that forced my eyes back open. The second guard had attached my restraints to hooks at the base of both pillars, making sure to tighten them enough so that my legs were splayed straight out. I sucked in a painful breath, pulled even deeper into the triangle’s point, and fought the urge to writhe. My wrists were shackled to a hook above my head, where my arms hung straight upwards on a bar that spread them apart. The position made it difficult to pull myself up and relieve some of the pressure on my poor pussy. Muffled sobs erupted from my throat but tangled up just past my lips, forcing me to choke and gag them back down. Tendrils of saliva coated my breasts, rolling down my navel until they began lubricating the pointed edge beneath me.

Both guards gawked at my body for one final moment, blowing me kisses and lapping out their tongues like panting dogs at the sight of my nakedness, before disappearing through a second entrance that stood behind me. I struggled to turn my head and try to follow their footsteps, unable to twist anything but my neck. It was no use. I was locked up tighter than a safe, left to bask in my muddled agony. Tears cascaded down my cheeks in waves, offering little heat against the goosebumps that ravaged my skin. The chill in the air left me violently shaking and hardened up my dime-sized nipples even more than before until they were both as solid as strawberry-pink rocks.

“Perhaps we should have used the one with a bit more padding,” a feminine voice behind me mused. I startled at the noise, letting out a sharp yelp as a pair of slender shadows flanked me on either side.