Chapter 7

Reaching the floor of my unlit cell, I discover that it, like the walls, is covered with thick spongy foam. As soon as I am unhooked from the ladder, I begin to wobble from the lack of solid footing; ultimately unable to balance, I fall backwards in my bundle and find myself staring up at the hole through which we have entered. A handful of agents, navigating the soft surface like comparative experts, rolls me over unceremoniously as they rip off my transport wrap, exposing once more my straitsuited body.

Frustrated, I try to get back on my feet. But though I am able to roll on to my stomach and back, the floor is far too soft for me to work my way back to standing. The sensation of being half buried in foam, rolling and writhing but unable to move, is like a nightmare.

Suppressing a laugh, Serena kneels by my side. "Oh, you poor thing. I'm tempted to stand you up just to watch you try to get back up the ladder. But it's getting late. I'm afraid you've already walked your last step."

She points a small device upwards. From the dark corners of the ceiling I see the glint of four metallic arms descending. As the agents guide them near the floor, I can see that each terminates in a long spring and a snap hook. I am flipped one more time on to my crossed arms as the hooks are attached to the ankles and shoulders of my straitsuit.

"One more inch for the shoulders should do it."

Again the arms retract. As they finally pull my crossed arms clear of the floor, my body starts ever so slowly to swing free. Pleased with the successful completion of their task, the agents return in formation to Serena's side.

Now she holds out her hand, and two black devices are placed in it. She takes one and inserts the inflatable bulb firmly past my resistant lips, strapping the gag into place firmly behind my head. Surveying their joint handiwork, her inescapably bound future slave, Serena turns to speak to the agents flanking her.

"Would any of you girls like a minute to touch him? You have permission from his future mistress. But I remind you, if he climaxes on your watch ... well, you saw what happened to Christina."

Perhaps against their best judgment, two daring agents, probably both in their twenties, step forward hesitatingly and set upon my body. With Serena's encouragement, one lavishes attention on my chest while the other, rather dangerously, hungrily strokes my rear; my tight restraints intensify their gentle touch. However, as much as I desperately want revenge -- to make these beautiful tormentresses share my fate -- as much as I try in vain to brush up in the right way against them or the floor, I cannot put myself over the top. Serena addresses me again, and the happy pair resumes their former statuesque position.

"You will recall that you have been sentenced to punitive extraction. Every third day, your punishment will be briefly suspended, much like you saw earlier, and you will be offered a chance to divulge relevant information at the prompting of my intelligence officers. If they feel you are misleading or stalling them, they are authorized to intensify your suffering, so personally, I would stick to the truth." She realizes with satisfaction, of course, that I have no relevant truth to offer.

"Periodically you may be sedated for medical maintenance; after all, we still want you to be in passable physical shape for your new life. During the next few weeks we may also need to clean or shave you to optimize the contacts in the control suit. But you will be awake for none of that. You will doze off and then awaken just as before: blinded, restrained, suspended, and tormented. You will be aware of nothing but your punishment."