The Orchid Operation
Copyright© 2025 by Rose Garden
Chapter 19: The Quiz
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 19: The Quiz - Hidden on the planet exists a facility that specializes in rehabilitating forgotten, worthless members of society into something more useful for their betters. A young woman finds herself a prisoner of this facility, faced with daily torment at the hands of six violent sadists who want nothing more than to watch her squirm and scream for their delight. This story is a never ending buffet for hardcore bdsm lovers of all appetites.
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including ft NonConsensual Slavery BiSexual Fiction Vignettes Science Fiction BDSM DomSub Humiliation Rough Sadistic Torture Polygamy/Polyamory Infantilization Caution Violence
Raven steps into my room grinning, and I swallow the same vomit I’ve been regurgitating all night. I wriggle against my cuffs. Despite my constant struggle, they never once budged. I watched the sun set, then rise for the first time in years, but I wasn’t able to enjoy a second of it. My pussy has been on fire all night. Every squirm and twitch pulses my flesh tighter against the metal teeth holding my petals open. The chains around my legs have grown hot thanks to my constantly shifting throughout the night. Their pattern is stamped into my skin.
“Did you not sleep very well, little one?” Raven asks, his voice soft like a gentle breeze. He chuckles, and my entire body shudders in response.
“Please take them off,” I beg. Fresh tears pour down my cheeks. I’m not sure where I’m getting the extra water from. After hours upon hours of sobbing throughout the night, I should have dehydrated myself by now.
Raven moans as he eases onto my bed. The shift in weight teases my aching joints. I brace myself as a shiver cuts up my legs and across my belly. Raven watches goosebumps pop up across me. His eyes twinkle with sadistic possibilities.
“Your mother did a number on you, didn’t she?” He whispers, tracing a line around my left nipple. It hardens beneath his gentle touch. All the welts I was given yesterday throb in response. Raven kisses the bruised skin, suckling it just enough to make me whimper. He refuses to allow the other breast to be left out, so he skims his teeth across its bud and snakes his tongue around to harden it like the first.
I groan, catching Raven’s eye. His lips trail up my septum, his beard tickling, until he locks onto the crook of my neck and buries his teeth into my jaw bone. My lips part with a silent gasp. I want to melt beneath him, but with every swirl of his tongue and purse of his lips, my girlhood throbs for more. There’s something inside me I can’t quite explain. Like a worm in my brain, or a dormant seed waiting to bloom. I can’t say for sure why, but I can’t stop picturing myself pinned beneath Raven’s weight, opening my hole for him to abuse. I shake the image out of my head when Raven’s hands move.
Slowly, Raven runs his palm across my open pussy lips. I suck in a sharp breath, my voice squeaking. Raven chuckles again. He pulls away from my neck, leaving behind the throb of a fresh bruise, and moves down to pursue sweeter pastures.
“Please...” I whimper.
Raven doesn’t hear me. He craves the sticky nectar of my pain. My cunt grows slick when his tongue traces my insides. My back buckles as his tongue slips deeper and deeper. I shake my head, still groaning. His face is pulling the chains even further apart. They chew through my flesh until beads of crimson bubble up to the surface. Our brutal game of tug-of-war is coming to a close. If Raven doesn’t let up soon, I’ll surely be the loser.
His tongue traces the fold of my clit, studying the scab left behind by Mom’s clamp. I ball my hands into tight fists and dig the back of my cranium into my pillows. I bite my lip to keep from lashing out until my entire body locks up and I shake. I feel Raven’s lips curl into a smile. He’s trying to break me.
“Hold your breath,” he whispers, re-situating himself on the bed. I promptly obey, as it’s the only thing keeping me from screaming, and brace myself when he reaches to release the clasps.
My skin pulls apart as the hinges split open, like my flesh and the metal have melded together. I tug harder against my cuffs, hit by wave after wave of pain that ripples throughout my labia and buckles my spine. Hot tears stream down my cheeks. I sniffle, nearly losing control of my breath.
Raven drags his lips along my inner thigh. My right side is free now; free to breathe and to swell back into its correct shape. Raven kisses the wounds one by one, then eases back to take off the other clamps.
“Attagirl,” he whispers. “Stay strong for me, Emma. Your courage will be rewarded.”
Is there any reward out there that’ll be worth this torment? I bite harder on my lip to keep from screaming the question aloud. I can’t watch him take off the last two clips. The anticipation is killing me. Just get it over with! Rip them off if you have to!
Raven drags his fingers beneath the edge of my folds. He flicks the flesh back and forth, tugging at the chain that connects the last two clamps. Half of my breath slips out in a jaw-grinding growl. I snap my lips shut to keep the rest inside. Raven takes the chain in his fingers, then pauses, like he’s actually considering tugging the whole thing off. I think he’s waiting for me to open my eyes again, but I don’t dare move a muscle. If I keep perfectly still, I think I can contain myself long enough for him to free me. But if I move even an inch, all of my resolve is surely going to come crashing down. Raven makes a strange noise. Like he’s both disappointed and impressed. My reward: a slow, sympathetic release of my privates and permission to breathe again.
My eyes snap back open with a gasp. A wail accidentally leaves me, but Raven doesn’t mind. He smiles down at me, pocketing the clips and chains. He runs his fingers through my sweat-slicked hair, ensnaring my gaze.
“Good girl,” he says. “Did you like that?”
I shake my head, lip quivering. “No, Master.”
He frowns slightly. “Hm. You will.”
“I’m sorry. I’m tired.”
Raven’s eyes trace a line from my face down to my toes. He rests his hand over the strap pinning my hips down. His thumb toys with the heavy metal buckle.
“How about I give you a break to clean yourself up before we begin today’s session? You haven’t been on your feet in a while, and your doctor wants you to start eating again today.”
My heart nearly skips a beat. Is he serious? This bed-ridden nightmare is finally over?
“Please,” I say. It’s all I have the strength for right now. My throat burns so much. I want water. I want to stretch my limbs. I want to bathe. I want to feel sunlight on my skin again.
Raven smiles. “You’ll have to do something for me in return. I’m giving you this reward before our session because I have faith that you will not let me down. Are you going to let me down, Emma?”
“No, Master. I’ll try my best.”
Raven tuts his tongue and shakes his head. “No, that won’t do. I am not ordering you to ‘try,’ I am ordering you to ‘do.’ You will do what is asked of you, do you understand? Not ‘your best,’ because we both know your best isn’t good enough. Am I clear?”
I nod. “Yes, Master. I’ll do whatever you want me to. I promise! Please let me go...”
“You understand there will be consequences for failing me, yes?”
“Yes, Master.”
“That’s my girl.”
One by one, Raven pops open each of my restraints’ latches until the only thing pinning me to my bed is pure exhaustion. My skin releases another shuddering chill. I glance down to find the leather has imprinted across me, as have the wrinkled sheets. I’m just glad I didn’t have to sleep in my filth from yesterday. I know that if not for Doctor Brockhoist, Mom would have forced me to. As much as the doctor creeps me out, he’s not so bad.
Raven takes my hands and eases me onto my feet. I wobble, growing lightheaded, and collapse against his weight. His chest is warm. If he held me, I’d surely fall asleep almost immediately.
“Careful now,” Raven scolds, laughing. He tilts up my chin to face him. He must have caught me nodding off. “Clean yourself up, get dressed, and meet your doctor in the kitchen. When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting in the study.”
I nod. “Yes, Master. Thank you.”
He presses his lips to my forehead and lets out a breathy moan. “Don’t dawdle.”
“I won’t.”
He drifts away slowly, taking one last look at my trembling, naked self. I squeeze my thighs together, suddenly aware that I’m growing hair again. Without replication, my body is aging. I wonder how long I’ll have to suffer like this before I’m wiped clean. If my counting is right, which it usually isn’t, I should be nearing the end of the decem. Surely they’ll replicate me then, right? Unless they’re waiting for funding, like what Brockhoist said. I buckle my legs and grab my elbows, still recalling Lucy’s heinous solution to their money problems.
I can’t go back to the Oasis. I’ll never survive. Which means today has to go perfectly. No disobedience. No delays. No failures. Whatever Raven wants from me, I have to give him. No matter what.
I wash everything twice, from my feet to my scalp. I clean my tongue and teeth until they’re spotless, ignoring the twinges of pain from the needle wounds inside my mouth. I wish I had makeup or something to hide the bruises left behind by the gag from yesterday. Ugly red and purple blood splotches stain the corners of my mouth like smeared lipstick. That’s not even mentioning the bruises on my wrists, ankles, upper arms, and hips.
What does it matter if they’re hidden or on display? Everyone knows they’re there. Half of the people in this building are responsible for them anyway. At least my clothes can hide them. My closet is measly, but steadily growing. Two robes, two pairs of shorts, two shirts, and two pairs of shoes. That’s a lot better than I expected. I shudder when I see the matching grey cropped tee and micro shorts that I wore during my first trip to the Oasis. I’d rather not think about that day, so I slip into a tight, cropped tank and even tighter, even teenier sport shorts. Both are colored with the same pale yellow as my house slippers. They hug my body so tight that my nipples and girlhood stick out like carvings. I don’t mind it so much today. I need Raven to love me. It’s why I go barefoot. That, and I like the way the floor feels against my feet. It’s cool. Grounding. I study the way every surface I touch feels as I trudge down the steps.
The smell of breakfast wafts in from the kitchen. I hold my breath as I turn the corner. Brockhoist is already inside, shutting off the stove. I wonder how he was able to perfectly time his cooking with my arrival, but then I catch a glimpse of a tablet beside him. When he realizes I’m in the doorway, he’s quick to shut the screen off.
“Have a seat,” he instructs, motioning to the table.
I toy with the hem of my shorts and settle in. There’s already a glass of milk and a cup of fruit waiting for me. Brockhoist sets a plate of eggs in front of me, but doesn’t allow me to eat before he shines his penlight into my eyes and down my throat.
“How would you rate your pain this morning?” He asks, jotting down his findings.
I’m quick to swallow a mouthful of breakfast before I reply. “Not that bad. In my throat, at least.”
His brow pricks up. “Is it worse elsewhere?”
I nod and rub my thighs together. The movement catches Brockhoist’s eye. He nods slowly, pursing his lips.
“Right...” He mumbles under his breath. “Your master told me the damage was severe.”
I hesitate to remind him that he was the reason Mom left those clamps behind. It won’t do me any good. I’m supposed to be on my best behavior, after all.
“Is the pain bearable, at least?” Brockhoist asks, half-engrossed in his clipboard.
I shrug, nibbling on a blueberry. “I guess.”
He pokes his pencil between my legs, prompting me to open up. “Still bleeding?”
“No, Doctor.”
“Then you’re fine. I’m more concerned about your throat. Your bruising has gone down. Though...” He ambles off, his eye snagging on my jaw. He tips my chin up with the eraser of his pencil. For a moment, confusion and concern cross his gaze, but when realization hits, his face falls. “Don’t let Raven leave anymore bruises like that.”
I frown. “Do you ... want me to tell him that?”
Brockhoist pauses. He thinks about what he just said, then shakes his head. “My mistake.”
“Do you know what he’s going to do to me today?”
Brockhoist lets out a puff of angry breath. He writes something down quick, then pockets his pencil. His eyes study me up and down, his lips twisted into a confused sort of scowl.
“Finish your milk, Emma. He’s waiting in the study.”
I swallow my disappointment and nod. “Yes, Doctor.”
“Do you remember where the study is?”
I suck in a sharp breath. Minerva just gave me a tour of the building a few days ago, but I haven’t been allowed to explore much on my own. I remember her showing me where the room was located, but we didn’t go inside.
“Down the east hall,” Brockhoist snaps, not waiting for me to answer. He pointed to the doorway across the room. “It’s the final door on the right. We’ll be putting up directional signs in the future. Until then, you will be expected to navigate this building on your own.”
“I’d like that,” I admit. “But I’ve barely seen this place.”
“Don’t talk back.”
Brockhoist pushes himself away from the table so quickly that it startles mm. I wait until his back is turned before I start eating again. He stands by his tablet, switching back and forth between typing and writing in his notepad. I chew quieter than he works, moving so subtly that I hope he’s forgotten I’m here. And yet, the second I’m finished, Brockhoist snaps at me to leave my dishes in the sink and hurry along. My acknowledgment is mumbled, and my obedience is prompt. The Oasis still clings to the back of my mind. I can’t mess this up.
Down the hall, to my right, a large set of familiar double doors greets me. They’re both propped open, letting the early morning glow shine through. Trying to put together a mental map of the place, I have to assume I’m on the opposite side of the building from my bedroom. That, or it’s evening instead of morning. I can’t dwell too hard on the concept of time, or I’ll get confused.
Raven spots me hovering in the doorway. He sits across the room, spread out on a plush leather couch. A grin creeps up his face, and he coaxes me forward. I gawk, taking a step deeper inside. The couch Raven is sitting on is made to fit perfectly beneath the massive window behind him. It fills the room with light and warmth, illuminating dust motes in the air. Bookshelves line the walls, and a few desks and chairs litter the space. There’s a few locked cabinets by the doors. One sits propped open, a ring of keys sticks out of the lock, and a ball gag pokes out of the opening. I swallow hard and lock my jaw.
“I didn’t know this room was here,” I say, accidentally thinking aloud.
The room looks odd. Like it’s been staged to appear lived-in, but it’s just a lie. Random books, stationery, and pens scatter the desks and cabinets, but they all seem strategically placed. I drag my finger along the spine of a worn cover. Its title has disappeared with time, leaving only a faint imprint of letters. The pages are probably blank.
“It’s real, you know,” Raven says, like he can read my thoughts. I freeze, meeting his gaze. He nudges his head toward me, still grinning. “Go on.”
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