Chapter 11: Protective Custody

Over the past two days, they have lasered my body hair again. It was not as unpleasant as it was on the first occasion – mainly because there seemed less to do. There was some small relief because the ordeal was less protracted but there was still the accompanying sadness. I had to face the fact that I could never again be the person I once was. Never again would I have little downy hairs on my arms and legs which turned golden when they caught the light of a sunny afternoon; no public hair to shave or not to shave just as I wished and no hair on my head to cut or grow or style or colour or comb or even scratch. But, more than sadness, there was again the feeling of intimate violation, when I had to kneel on the operating table and spread my buttocks with my own hands, to give access for the destruction of even the little hairs around my anus so that there would be nothing left.

I was taken back to my cell afterwards, my skin feeling bruised sunburned. They allowed me a little time to myself to rest. In the circumstances, after all that's happened to me, sexual interest, sexual tensions and sexual feelings should be the very last thing on my mind. But perhaps that is all that I have left to me? Perhaps sexual feeling is something I can create and enjoy in my own mind, private to me, secret from them.

The feelings of sexual arousal torment me more and more. I have to do something about it. I have to hide it from them but I have to find some relief, even if there really is nowhere to hide.

When my work is over, as soon as I'm back in my cell, as soon as the door is locked and the lights have faded and I am alone, I lay on the mattress with my legs spread wide and bring myself off. I am so horny that it does not take long thank goodness, because I don't know when they'll be back. At first there's the sense of relief and I lick my fingers to clean up, taking delight in the taste and the smell of something I have done for me.

As the release of orgasm fades, I'm astonished at my own behaviour. When the feelings began, I brought myself off secretly at night, when I thought they might not be able to see. But the desire for release just grew and grew. Now I do it whenever I'm alone. I just can't help myself and I don't care what they see...

I'm alone in my cell, lost in my sexual dreams, eyes closed. I suddenly sense that someone is behind me! I feel a tap on my shoulder - it's Neena and Andrei. Damn! I had been so wrapped up in my fantasies I did not hear then come in. Neena has tapped me on the shoulder with her crop: my eyes jerk open and there they are: both of them looking down at me and laughing. Neena is slowly shaking her head, as if she is disappointed in me, or perhaps to say; 'now you didn't think you could have secrets from me, did you?' I suppose that I must have put on quite a show.

I stop immediately and they motion me to stand up. My reverie is replaced with foreboding. I'm sure I'm going to be punished. I'm sure I'm not supposed to be "enjoying myself"...

Andrei takes my arms behind my back and handcuffs them. I don't resist. There's no point, I would not win anyway. He stands holding my arms, keeping me upright. Neena bends down and straps my ankles to a metal bar – a leg spreader. My ankles aren't held very far apart, just far enough to stop me bringing my legs together.

She gets up and opens the bag she brought in with her.

I start to squirm – this is going to be it. This is my punishment coming. They are going to hurt me with something. The man holds me all the tighter. Despite all the bodybuilding, I have done, he is much stronger than I am.

The girl opens the bag and brings out, what? She holds it up towards me smiling. It's a chastity belt; shiny, silver and black. If I was not where I am, I might find it interesting but now it's not interesting at all, because they are taking yet more away from me. The only thing I have left for myself.

I struggle and struggle: I don't want even these very little pleasures taken from me, things I can still do for myself without having to wait for them or wait for their agenda or wait to earn favours. But of course that's why they are doing this.

"Why? Why?" I shout.

"Because your body is ours and you are not using it properly", she replies

"Your body? It is my body! You can force me to work for you but my body is mine. It's me!"

I am pleading with her. Pleading for them to let me alone, to have some small thing for myself, but Neena is implacable. She just repeats their logic. I am trying to find a sentence to counter it but I cannot take hold of one, wherever I look in my mind, her voice comes to me: firm, reasonable, logical, inescapable.

"Rabinya, your body is ours. That is what it means to be a slave. You are owned. We own you. Your body, your mind, your strength, your talents, your abilities to give pleasure and to experience pleasure..."

"But what is left for me?"

"For you?"

"Yes: me!"

"Why nothing, of course! You are wholly owned. There is nothing left for you. The moment I took you, all your claims to your body and mind, thoughts and actions transferred to your new Owner. Your training shows you what this means, helps you to understand and will bring you to complete acceptance. Quite soon now, I expect, you will completely understand that you have nothing. You are nothing. Your life is to live for your Owners. Here is another lesson. Your Owners are now taking your sexual pleasures from you, because they do not belong to you anymore. They are for others. For your Owners."

I am held tight whilst the waist strap of the belt is wrapped around me and connected: it feels hard, smooth, cold, unyielding. I can smell Neena's perfume as wraps her arms around me, encircling my waist with the belt. Her perfume is sweet and pungent and intoxicatingly erotic. She must have worn it on purpose; exciting me with a perfume and simultaneously taking away my ability to enjoy my own body, to consummate the desire she is deliberately inflaming.

Then she spreads some cream around my pussy. On each side of my labia. Around my clit. Under the clit hood. Then she brings the crotch strap up between my legs and connects it to the waist band. I can feel it, from the waist band at the rear, between my buttocks, across my anus as a thin round smooth curved bar and then as a wider plate across my perineum, my vagina, mons and abdomen, passing up to the waist band at the front. The strap is cold and seems to follow the contours of my body perfectly, clamped firmly against my crotch. She locks the catch shut. There is a very solid final 'click'.