Chapter 2: Pearly Whites

ROCKY, Status: DOCTOR. Log 002.

SUBJECT 0601, 0601 is scheduled to have oral surgery for the insertion of her tracking chip. Prior to this, she has been given no food for twenty-four hours. Subject’s dental records are well kept and her history shows no sign of potentials issues during surgery. Subject has never worn corrective equipment, thus there is no worry that her teeth will shift in response to the replacement. Subject’s four wisdom teeth have been removed. Subject has no history of crowns or dentures. Subject’s O-31 will be extracted without the use of anesthetic and the tooth will be preserved for the records. An exact replica of 0601’s O-31 has been made from the subject’s most recent x-rays, containing her permanent tracking chip. Additional resizing may be required.

I hadn’t yet gotten a chance to explore my new living quarters when I had been unceremoniously dumped onto my cot for the night. The room was completely pitch black up until what I could only assume was the morning hours, when a flash of crisp white light sent me jolting upright, violently ripping me out of my sleep. I groaned in pain and helplessly rubbed my eyes, but the light was inescapable. It took far too long to grow adjusted to the pain, and I tried to slip under the covers to give my searing eyelids a break, only to find the fabric was no bigger than a bath towel and thinner than a napkin.

The cell itself was about the size of a walk-in closet, with the tiny, lumpy cot running from wall to wall. The only decorations on the blood-soaked cobblestone walls were a thick iron door locked from the outside and a tiny gash in the upper corner of the room, where a camera watched me from above. A tiny toilet and even smaller sink sat across from me, giving me only a few feet to actually stand and stretch. The only objects I had to my name were a dented tin cup for water and the ragged threads on my body that those monsters called clothes. Prisoners lived better than that.

The room was dank and smelled of must and rot. I pretended not to see the shiny black blurs crawling up my walls, choosing to believe they were tricks of the light and not thumb-sized roaches. I gagged and propped myself against the toilet in preparation, but my stomach had nothing to purge. I hadn’t eaten since well before the auction, and I wasn’t sure how long I had been unconscious for. The hunger left me woozy, and I collapsed back down onto my cot to rest my weary head, only to be greeted by its rock-hard surface. I didn’t have more than a handful of moments to stop and breathe before my door was rolling open with a terrible creak and two guards jumped inside.

I couldn’t find the strength to fight back outside of a little wriggling and squirming. Both men were stronger than me and twice my size, so I knew resistance was futile. Especially when they dragged me into the dungeon-like hallway outside, lit only by dim golden lanterns, and strapped me up tight into a bulky wheelchair. Medical restraints pinned down my wrists and ankles in cuffs, while a big X covered my chest. I rolled my head forward in defeat, trying to use the awkward journey down the corridor to try and prepare myself for the worst.

I was past the point of hoping this was all some bad dream.

Waiting for me at the end of the hallway was an elevator that looked dingy and old on the outside, yet once the doors opened, it was pristine and sterile. The buttons beside the door only went to a few of what looked like many floors of the facility, as if there was a far more intricate layout than what I could have possibly anticipated. Yet that wasn’t what I was focused on.

Initially, my attention fell to my two guards, who weren’t dressed in utilitarian uniforms like the others were but instead were dressed in head-to-toe white medical scrubs, like the kind of uniform guards working at a mental institution might wear. They both had stern, chiseled faces, decorated in scars from previous subjects, no doubt. The pockets on their shirts had lumpy bulges inside, where I suspected a series of sedatives were lying in wait, itching for the moment I grew too rowdy to handle.

Still, that wasn’t what held my attention either. Instead, I was zeroed in on my dim reflection in the steel elevator doors in front of me. Though the scuffs in the metal made my image a little difficult to see, I was easily able to make out how blemishless my skin was. I hadn’t noticed it in my cell because I was too disoriented by the light, but when I looked down at my lap, I couldn’t see a single welt, bruise, or blister decorating the area of my legs visible beneath my cropped pants. My wrists and ankles were sore but didn’t sting, and my back felt oddly comfortable against the leather seat of the chair.

What happened to the torture? Had I dreamed it all? Was I really in some crazy sex brainwashing facility owned by a bunch of sadistic freaks?

My head reeled at the possibilities that this newfound discovery suggested, but as soon as I began closely studying my reflection, it disappeared, pulled away in two pieces as the doors rolled open.

My suspicions regarding the guards’ uniforms were proven correct when I was wheeled into what looked to be a medical facility. Clean white tile wrapped the floors and up the walls, bleeding into a sky blue ceiling that made the blaring fluorescent lights even brighter. Doctors and nurses alike shuffled in and out of the hallway, mostly in pairs, as they discussed their subjects’ torment as if it was casual conversation. On occasion, an agonized scream would tremble the hallway, evoking smirks and excited giggles from the staff. Some people were even taking notes on the subjects’ reactions, discussing how they could elicit such a response from their own victims. I shuddered and tried to tune out their conversations, but the noise filled my head like I was drowning in it. Silence only greeted me when I was rolled into a dental wing, which was far less crowded than before. Diagrams of teeth hung on the walls alongside motivational posters for the staff, offering tips and tricks about drilling just deep enough to make the patient pray for god or how to use the aftereffects of oral surgery to prolong an orgasm. They were all decorated in the company’s lily logo and cartoonish depictions of smiling teeth holding various bloodied dental tools. I swallowed a sob and forced my eyes back closed.

I was brought to a private dentist’s office, where the white tiles from the floor now covered every surface besides the cabinets and chairs. It was easier to clean, I supposed, judging from the amount of drains drilled into the floor. A brown, vintage-looking dental chair awaited me, ripped straight out of the nineteenth century, sitting beneath a large, dimmed surgical light.

There was no doctor or nurse there to greet me, so the guards began removing me from the wheelchair alone before forcing me to strip. I held my head low as I peeled off the shirt and pants—the only coverings I had been given—then hesitantly dressed myself in the paper gown they handed over. Once covered, I was promptly tied to the dentist chair with more medical restraints—the thick brown kind made to keep a person deathly still. I was bound by my wrists and ankles, with my feet positioned on either side of the chair’s footrest in order to open up my legs. A freezing gust of wind blew up the paper gown, which I had suddenly realized was much shorter than it was meant to be. It only reached a few inches past my hips, meaning that not only was my bare ass sitting on the cold leather of the chair, but my privates were almost completely exposed for anyone to look down and see.

“Thank you, boys. I’ll take it from here,” a peppy woman said, suddenly bursting into the room. The guards nodded and shuffled out, taking the wheelchair with them and leaving me alone with who I could only assume was my torturer for the day.

“Hiya!” she beamed. “I’m Lucy! Oh, whoops—you’re just supposed to call me Nurse, aren’t you? Well, nevermind about that; I’m gonna take good care of you today, okay?”

Lucy was an apt name for her because she looked like the love child between Lucy from I Love Lucy and, oddly enough, Brittany Spears. She was short with curly blonde hair kept trimmed just below her earlobes. For some reason, she looked like the kind of woman who perfected vintage finger waves. She wore bright red lipstick, which stuck out against her pale skin, along with an unprofessionally short baby blue smock dress made out of stiff, cheap material and a white apron over top to match the white hat on her head. I think she was going for vintage nurse, but it ended up looking more like a Spirit Halloween costume, especially considering the white fishnets, red pumps, and just how much of her disproportionately sized boobs were spilling out of the dress’ low-cut bodice.

“I’ve got all your records right here, hun,” Lucy said chipperly, waving a manila folder in her hand. “And I’ve got to say, you are quite the little tooth fairy. I mean, you’ve made this job so easy on us today! I thank you for that, really. So right now, I’m just gonna do a little routine work on those pearly whites of yours before the doctor comes in and the fun really starts.”

“What fun?” I asked weakly.

She smiled so wide her lips turned into two thin lines. “Oh, hun. Try not to speak today, or I’ll have to put an end to it. And you don’t want that, trust me. There’s gonna be a lot of fingers in your mouth, so you don’t wanna be moving around too much. Or else.”

I couldn’t tell what, exactly, Lucy was implying would happen to me, but I trusted her honesty.

Lucy seemed appreciative, flashing a million-dollar smile as I pursed my lips together and nodded. She spun around to the sink, scrubbing her hands to perfection before slipping on two black latex gloves. They fit around her hands perfectly, as if sculpted to her skin. She snapped each of the gloves’ hems to ensure they would stay in place and wriggled out her fingers to create flexible folds and grooves to move in.

“You’re awfully cute,” she said. There was a slight twang in the back of her throat, as if she was from the deep south. “What’s a thing like you doing in a place like this? Cute girls aren’t usually the ones we snatch up off the side of the road. Must be a runaway. A rebel.” Lucy squealed and fanned herself with her hand. “Oh, I do love a bad girl.”

I wasn’t sure how to tell her that I was the literal opposite of a rebel, but I was too worried about opening my mouth and finding out what “or else” meant. Something about the way her every movement had just a little twitch in it made me worried she was a touch unstable. I imagined one would have to be in order to work at such a horrible place.

“So here’s what’s gonna happen today, cutie,” Lucy cooed. As she spoke, she set up a small metal tray of various dental tools that I mostly recognized. Nothing too crazy, just cleaning picks and brushes. She then settled the tray down onto a small table beside me and planted herself into a rolling chair by my head. “I’m gonna do a real bang-up job taking a look at your adorable little teeth, okay? Then after that, the doc is gonna come in and check my work. Then he’ll explain stage two.”

Stage two? I had been to the dentist before, but I wasn’t familiar with a “stage two.” Maybe she was just talking about the part where the dentist makes you feel bad for not flossing every day or something. But there was a sadistic glimmer in her icy blue eyes that told me otherwise. My stomach twisted up inside of me, clawing against my skin in response.

“Open wide for me,” Lucy commanded, holding a sharpened tooth scraper in one hand and a mirror in the other. Since there was no point in fighting back, I obeyed promptly, much to her delight.

She poked around my mouth for a moment, taking her time inspecting each and every tooth, yet the scraper only ever touched one. It was my back molar she was enamored with, though I wasn’t sure why. She scraped it down to death until my wrists and ankles were trembling in their cuffs. It didn’t hurt as much as it electrified my nerves until the pick slipped in her grip and plunged into my gums, stabbing me through the flesh. I howled and choked back tears as the trickle of blood began to run down my tongue.

Lucy gasped and rested a hand on her cheek. “Oh, dear! I’m terribly sorry. Let me make it all better.”

I gasped as her fingers found their way between my legs, my cheeks turning bright red in response. Her gloves were soft against my skin but had an oddly smooth texture that felt inhuman. I tried to force my thighs closed and push her away, but the positioning of my ankle restraints kept them spread enough that Lucy could easily slip her entire hand up my dress.

She teased my lips, pinching them between her fingers and slowly moving up to my clit. It tingled with excitement, but all I could feel was horror. The delicate fold leaned into Lucy’s touch as her fingertips lightly grazed its head. She traced its outline with just enough pressure to make me roll back in the chair, but her fingers were too light to ignite any true passion.

Lucy leaned in close to me, pushing her breasts together until they almost came out of her dress. She moaned into my ear, taking a nibble off my lobe, and squeezed her breast tight. It was so much bigger than her hand could hold and spilled out between her fingers like dough. Breath burst from her nostrils and tickled the inside of my ear as she squirmed two fingers closer and closer toward my pussy, dancing around its hole until I was sticky with anticipation. I feverishly shook my head, begging her to stop with only my eyes.

“Relax,” Lucy purred. “I’ll be gentle. Your master will have my head if I break your hymen.”

I was honestly surprised my virginity was still intact at that point. I hardly cared about keeping my innocence anymore. It seemed like the least of my worries.

Without warning, Lucy plunged her fingers deep inside of my blossom and squealed with glee. I gritted my teeth together to keep from screaming, mortified by the unnatural sensation. I could feel her exploring my insides, scraping her gloved skin against my inner walls and teasing the depths of my cave, careful not to sink in too deep. My voice cracked, interrupting an oncoming moan, and my eyes stung with tears. Lucy only giggled at my noises and, with one hand, prepped a tiny electric toothbrush with a silvery paste.

“Open up,” she commanded.

I knew the moment that I opened my mouth my voice would buckle and groan in pleasure, but I didn’t have a choice. All I could do was to ball the sound up and force it to escape as a whimper. It was all the same to Lucy. She flashed a row of perfect teeth between her ruby lips and began work meticulously, brushing the same molar as before.

She dug the rotating bristles deep into my gums until I was squirming beneath her. As she pushed harder and harder into my tooth, Lucy’s fingers sank further and further inside of me until my feet were kicking against their restraints. Waves of pleasure washed over my chest, undercut by the cruel punishment my gums were suffering. She brushed the tooth over and over until the toothpaste residue had rolled down my throat and my pussy was beginning to grow wet with anticipation.

I rolled my eyes back and moaned as she slowly slipped her fingers out and put the toothbrush aside. She studied the way my juices clung to her latex-covered hand, rubbing them against each other until a paste began to form.

Lucy giggled and hopped off her chair to straddle me in mine. She sat on my lap, facing me head-on, with her thick and heavy ass squishing my quivering privates. My chest heaved as she leaned forward. Every inhale I sucked in only pushed our breasts tighter together. Each time she situated herself atop my thighs, I felt a burst of thrill explode deep inside of my nerves.

To my horror, Lucy took her two filthy fingers and scraped them against her tongue. Our eyes were locked the entire time—neither of us blinking or daring to look away. She moaned loudly as she suckled her fingertips, swallowing the latex whole like a popsicle. Her lipstick impressively stayed in place when she pulled away, even as a fat drip of my cum crept down her bottom lip.