Arrival
Once the police had me in the van I had nowhere to go. The seat belt held me down, with the buckle out of my reach so I couldn’t take it off. The reason for that were the handcuffs on my wrists, keeping my hands secured behind my back. Although I knew the arrest was staged everything was by the book. The officers who took me into custody played their part well, almost as if they weren’t aware it was all preplanned.
When they informed me I had an outstanding warrant for “parole violations” I almost laughed. But I went along with the pretext, and now here I was in the prisoner van, what used to be called a paddy wagon in the old days, heading to someplace known only as the Center. There was a heavy wire screen all around the back compartment of the van, forming a small, mobile jail cell. There were two bench seats, with me fastened into the front one. There was a gate inside the side door. Combined with the bars across the windows it would be difficult to get out. A heavy grill separated the front compartment. There were two officers: one driving, and the other watching me with the occasional glance over his shoulder.
I knew for sure I wasn’t really going to jail, but I didn’t have any idea of the final destination or how long I’d be left sitting in the back with the handcuffs on. I was the only passenger so the guards in front didn’t really have to keep up the pretense.
From the window I saw we were in the pass on the way out of the city. I figured it had been long enough. “Excuse me,” I asked politely, “but how much longer do I have to be cuffed? And could you tell me where the Center is located?” I didn’t see any reason for them to keep me restrained. After all, I was here of my own free will, and I hadn’t committed any real crime.
The officer who wasn’t driving turned around to look at me through the grill. “No, I won’t tell you how far it is. If the handcuffs are inconvenient feel free to take them off.” He turned back around. Both of them were laughing at his little joke. After a moment he turned around again. “As long as you are in our custody they stay on. Live with it.”
I didn’t have a key or a hacksaw, so that answered one question. I’d have to wait and see what was going to happen next. It did make me realize I really was past the point of no return. I began to wonder if I’d done something stupid after all.
My guards were ignoring me so I leaned back on the bench seat to watch the scenery go by. We were past the mountains now, out of the city traffic. Between the bars on the window I saw the landscape turn into desert. This time of day there weren’t many cars on the highway. For some reason I had expected the Center to be somewhere downtown, but I was obviously wrong. Out in the desert there was a lot of empty space, the perfect place to hide a building. The news often had stories about all kinds of offbeat groups living out there, from polygamist communes to secret military bases to survivalists in their doomsday bunkers. I suppose whoever it was that ran the Center was in the same category. The enigmatic name certainly fitted in with the rest of the fringe groups. Since that was my destination I’d qualify as one of those fringe types too.
We were on one of those long stretches of road with nothing but sagebrush, cactus and mesquite in every direction. Every so often there would be an overpass, with mysterious, unmarked roads leading off into the empty expanse, no doubt right to those secret bases full of flying saucers. It was one of the upcoming overpasses where the van slowed and turned to the off ramp. I sat up to see if we were stopping, and if there were any signs that might tell me where we were at.
There didn’t seem to be anything useful. There were no signs or roads out to the desert on this side of the highway. The van pulled over at the top of the overpass and the guard on the passenger side got out. He slid open the door to the prisoner compartment. From the way the van had parked no one in a passing car could see me.
The guard unlocked the gate and swung it open. I watched him, not sure what was going on. Based on his previous comment I did not expect my situation to suddenly improve. “We need to get you ready,” he told me. That didn’t sound too good for me. They had not been the most helpful of travel companions up to this point in the trip.
He dropped a bag onto the floor of my compartment. I watched as he drew out a set of leg irons, ankle sized cuffs with a longer connecting chain. This was definitely headed in the wrong direction. I wanted the handcuffs off, not extra ones on my ankles. “Look,” I told him firmly, “this has gone far enough. I’m cooperating with you, I played along with that fake arrest, but it’s long past time we moved on. Take the handcuffs off and let’s go to the Center. I’m not going to give you any trouble.”
He stood there, looking at me, one of the ankle cuffs hanging open in his hand. Suddenly he grabbed my right foot and snapped on the cuff. Before I could stop him he had my left ankle and closed the cuff around it. He pulled the connecting chain under the seat and did something with it. I couldn’t see but the result was my ankles were now chained to the floor of the van. For good measure he slipped off my shoes and dumped them in the bag. “I wouldn’t recommend trying to run through the desert, at night, without any shoes. Spines from a barrel cactus are long enough to go through your foot. Think of it as stepping on a nail, stuck in a board full of nails.”
I jerked on the leg chains, to no effect. The chances of a leisurely stroll across the desert weren’t very promising. He leaned back, out of the way while I struggled to get free. They had me wrapped up in a nice bundle now. When I stopped the guard spoke up again. “What makes you think the arrest was a sham?” he asked. That brought my defiance to a halt.
If it wasn’t a setup that meant I actually was under arrest, and these guards were the real thing. “The local police transferred you to the custody of the State Corrections department because of the parole violation. There’s no hearing, no booking, no phone calls. You don’t pass Go, and you don’t collect $200. You’ve won an all-expense paid trip to a privately run, high security correctional facility, standard procedure when someone’s caught with outstanding parole violations.
“I don’t know where you got the idea this was some game, lady, but you better get a reality check. Since you did a runner you’re now in the high risk category. It’s going to get a lot worse, at least for you, before it gets better.”
No wonder the arrest was for a parole violation. Since I was already convicted, at least in theory, it was too easy to make me disappear. I’d been neatly tricked into signing up to be an inmate in some kind of private prison, with no way out. This wasn’t what I had in mind when I accepted that offer of a “fully committed” experience.
The guard pulled a large blindfold out of his bag. “This can go easy, or it can go hard. Either way you wind up with the blindfold on. I don’t want to hurt you but this,” he held up the blindfold, “is going to happen. What’s it gonna be?”
His terms were simple and direct. I was in no position to stop him. “Easy,” I told him. It would be pointless to fight. He was much bigger and stronger, and he wasn’t chained hand and foot. The driver was there if he needed help, but that wouldn’t be necessary, either way.
He got in the van, behind me. “Hold still,” he ordered as he fastened the blindfold around my head. Everything went dark when it covered my eyes. I heard the gate for the prisoner compartment click shut when the lock engaged, followed by the side door being closed. A moment later we were moving again, down the ramp to the highway.
I had no idea where we went after the lights went out. That must be the reason for the blindfold, to keep the location of this Center a secret. Eventually I felt the van slow when we left the highway. I heard one guard get out, the van pulled forward and stopped again to let the guard back in. We must have gone through a gate onto a private road. We weren’t going as fast now but from the amount of time that passed it had to be some distance from the highway before the van started to slow down again.
I figured we must be at the Center when the van came to a stop. Someone got out, followed by the sound of a garage door opening. The van pulled forward and stopped again, I presumed inside some building. The sound of the side door and then the compartment gate opening was good news. I still couldn’t see due to the blindfold but the leg chains came off, followed by my seat belt being unbuckled. A guard took hold of my arm to help me out. As soon as my feet hit the floor they pushed me up against the side of the van. Another pair of handcuffs went around my wrists, after which the old pair was removed. These had a heavier, more restrictive feel. It didn’t end there. I felt another set of leg irons click shut on my ankles. It seems they weren’t taking any chances with me.
Someone else took hold of my arm and ordered, “Come with me.” He led me away from the van so that it could leave. That’s when I discovered the chain between my ankles quickly brought me up short when I tried to walk. I heard the garage door closing after the van drove away. Immediately afterwards my blindfold came off.
There wasn’t much to see. No windows, but from the dry air it was safe to assume I was still in the desert. There was a door with a barred gate at one corner of the rear wall, next to a counter with a man sitting at it. The man holding my arm pointed me toward the corner. I noticed both of them wore some kind of black uniform, but there were no badges or insignia patches. This must be the Center.
At the counter the man behind it looked me over. “This is how it will be,” he began. “If you cooperate, do as you’re told, you won’t be hurt. If you are difficult then we do whatever it takes for you to comply. Which do you prefer? Consider your situation before you answer.”
It wasn’t a tough decision. I was helpless and terrified. These men could do whatever they wanted with me. And as the one guard pointed out, my situation, as he called it, meant there wasn’t much I could do to stop them. “I’ll cooperate,” I answered.
“Always address men as ‘sir’. Now, try it again.” He looked at me, waiting for my reply.
“Yes, sir, I’ll cooperate.” This must be my first test to see if I was serious. I thought wrong; the real test came next. The guard behind me pushed me down, bent over the counter. He held onto the handcuffs with one hand while he pushed my head down with the other. When I tried to rise up he pulled up on my arms, forcing me back down.
“I’m going to remove your clothes,” the guard in front of me explained. He held up some large scissors in one hand. “You will hold still while I cut them off. If you try to struggle we’ll put you on the floor. There’s nothing you can do to stop me, so don’t even try.” He came out from behind the counter, towards me.
I was in a panic, trying to think of some way I could persuade him to stop. “Sir? If you let me go I’ll….” I paused, took a breath, and continued, “I’ll take off my clothes. You don’t have to cut them off.” I didn’t want to do it but I hoped to retain some dignity.
The man holding me down leaned over me. “This isn’t a negotiation. Those clothes are coming off, and it will be done our way. Look, we’re being patient with you, but understand you have no freedom, no rights, and no say in here. Your only ‘right’ is to do as you’re told. Now, be quiet and hold still. This will be over in a minute.”
He was right. I gave up and did as he ordered. While one held me down the other man quickly cut off my clothes, starting with my blouse and working down. He could have simply pulled down my skirt but he chose to cut it up the back until it fell off. My underwear was gone in seconds, joining the other rags on the floor. I closed my eyes, prepared for the worst now I was stripped naked.
Instead the guard holding me down took his hand off my head and let go of the cuffs between my wrists. Putting his hands on my arms he helped me stand up again. The guard with the scissors was back behind the counter. The scraps that used to be my skirt and blouse littered the floor around me.
“You did well,” the man behind the counter told me. “It’s rare we find someone who adjusts to the realities as rapidly as you. If you continue to behave you will find it will be to your benefit during your stay.”
If he meant to reassure me it didn’t help. There wasn’t anything difficult to understand about my unwilling cooperation. Even though I certainly did not enjoy standing in front of these men baring all, any alternative would leave me in the same place, except I wouldn’t have whatever goodwill I might earn by not resisting.
“Hold still,” the guard behind me ordered. I felt a ring go around my neck and snap shut, locking in the back. There was too much weight to be a necklace, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
“This is your identification,” the man behind the counter explained. “You will wear it at all times, day and night. Any attempt to tamper with it will be severely punished. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” I answered. He stared at me, frowning but not saying a word. Then I remembered. “Yes, sir, I understand. I must keep it on.” I was sure it was locked on. It was obvious to me these men left nothing to chance.
“Listen carefully. The regulations here require that you wear a chastity belt. It is mandatory and there are no exceptions. I want you to stand up straight, spread your legs and hold still. Do it now.”
When I turned around the guard behind me had a belt ready, waistband open. I recognized it from pictures on internet sites. It was the real thing. Following his instructions I widened my stance, with my legs as far apart as the leg irons would allow. I stood still, praying that putting me in the belt meant I wasn’t going to be subjected to something worse.
I felt the waistband on my waist, above my hips. Holding it closed he reached between my legs and pulled up the centerpiece, an oval shield with a small vertical slit in the center. Attaching it to the waistband he did something to fasten it all together. When he let go it was securely locked around me.
“Like the collar any attempt to tamper with the belt will be severely punished. You will wear this belt at all times, except when you shower. You will be responsible for cleaning the belt when it is removed.”
The band was tight, and being above my hips I couldn’t slip out of it. The section between my legs was also a snug fit. I could live with it. In fact I’d have to live with it since I didn’t have the key.
The guard at the counter spoke. “Unless you are confined in a room you are required to be under the control of a Warden at all times. That includes a full set of chains, similar to what you are wearing now. If you are ever found outside a room without an escort and not properly restrained, or if you tamper with the restraints, you will be punished.
“This Center enforces strict regulations governing behavior for women like you. Fail to live up to the rules and you will be forcibly reminded to follow them in the future. There is a zero tolerance policy for disobedience, for laziness, or disrespect. Do not test our patience.”
Now I was sure not only had I done something incredibly stupid but quite likely dangerous as well, in accepting the offer to come here. That phrase he used, women like me, what did he mean by that?
“You will be taken to a holding area for new arrivals, where you will join a group. At that time you will receive an orientation lecture which will explain your duties and obligations during your stay here. Do not speak until given permission.
“We’re done here. Take her away.” The guard, no, they called themselves Wardens, took hold of my arms and pointed me toward the rear door. I was afraid once past the bars I’d never leave. I tried to hold back but the man behind me was too strong. He forced me toward an uncertain fate.
The Waiting Room
“Face forward, don’t turn around and don’t move,” the Warden told me in a firm but businesslike manner. I stood in front of the cell, looking through the bars at the other women seated on the wooden bench inside. There were two empty spaces next to the cell door. One of those places must be reserved for me.
I didn’t dare turn to look but I heard the guard put the key in the door to open it. It swung open smoothly, away from me. “Inside,” he ordered in a curt and efficient tone. To emphasize the point he used his grip on my upper arm to push me into the cell. As I expected he steered me to the next free position on the bench, where the line of seated women ended.
Not one turned to look at me. Every one sat up straight, head high, staring straight ahead. For the first time I saw the level of obedience expected of us. He turned me around to face the bars, pausing for a moment to inspect the line of women on the bench, but with his hand still on my arm. With his other hand he checked the handcuffs securing my wrists behind my back one last time.
My arms were sore from wearing those handcuffs behind my back for so long. In the van I had on what I thought were typical police handcuffs, with a connecting chain, but the ones used at the Center were hinged, something I had not seen before. Instead of a chain there was a hinge with bicycle chain type links. The hinge forced me to keep my wrists together and in parallel, to further limit my freedom of movement. They were close fitting around my wrists but not tight enough to cut off circulation. From my own exploration with fingertips I knew the keyholes were facing away from my hands, a small detail that proved these Wardens were professionals. My hands would remain behind my back until someone released me.
His free hand shifted to my shoulder. “Sit,” he ordered, pushing me down. I sat down on the bench and leaned back. “Keep your back straight, your head up, and your eyes front. Don’t look around. Do not speak.” His orders were clear, and from what I saw the same ones given to the other women on the bench. I was to hear the same instructions many times in the coming days.
The bench was designed to accommodate restraints, with an upper backrest slightly forward so there was room for my hands. I did my best to sit up straight. From the corner of my eye I saw him nod in approval.
The Warden, that’s what we were told to call them, let go of me and knelt down. He picked up the chain linking my ankles, slipped it through a shackle embedded in the floor and snapped it shut. He jerked on the chain to make sure it was secured. The leg irons effectively immobilized me, a guarantee I would be sitting at the same spot on the bench when he returned, whenever that might be. “Keep your legs together, knees touching. Both feet are to remain on the floor.” I did my best to comply.
He stood up, took a long moment to survey our group one last time, walked out of the cell, closed the door and locked it. He tugged on the door to make sure it was secure. “Until I return you may talk quietly. Do not stand up. If you need assistance, call out and someone will come to help.” With those parting words he strode off, never looking back at us.
I relaxed once I heard the outer door shut. I heard him slide the heavy bar across the door, the one I’d seen from the outside. Leaning forward I could just see the steel door set into the thick walls. It was the only way in or out. This side was a solid and featureless sheet of metal, no handle or keyhole. I didn’t see any possible way to open it.
The bench felt cold on my back and legs. None of us had any clothes, except for the metal chastity belts around our waists and between our legs. And of course we all had steel collars around our necks. I tried to stretch out my legs but I didn’t get very far. That shackle in the floor made certain I would stay in my position on the bench.
I leaned back, closed my eyes and let out a sigh of relief. I had made it this far without getting into trouble. I felt off balance, afraid I would be punished if I misbehaved, scared because I didn’t know what was expected of me. I needed to know more just to survive. It took all my self-control not to start shaking.
“Is this your first time here?” the woman sitting next to me asked. I opened my eyes and turned to face her.
“Yes, first time. Does it show?” Of course it showed. I was terrified. I was resigned to being trapped in here. Now I had to find a way to fit in, but there was so much I didn’t know.
“Don’t worry, you did fine from what I saw,” she answered. “The giveaway is that slight hesitation, not enough for a reprimand, but it’s obvious you’re thinking rather than reacting. Give it time and you’ll get over it. That’s what you, and the rest of us, are here for.” She nodded toward the group on the bench. “And if you don’t mind me asking, are you here, uhh…” She paused for a moment, “uhh, voluntarily?”
The question took me by surprise. Of course I was here by my own choice. Then I realized the implications, not everyone arrived of her own free will. “Yes, I was offered an opportunity for what was called a ‘fully committed’ experience. No limits, time or otherwise, no backing out if it didn’t suit me.” No walking away, that is what I was promised, and so far they had delivered on that part. I would not be leaving on my own. The level of security here, from only the part I’d seen, was overpowering. “What do you mean, voluntary?”
One of the women further down laughed, as if at a bad joke. I had an uneasy feeling there was much about this Center, as it was called, that I didn’t know. The woman next to me offered some explanation, “There are three ways to get in here. You can ask, they agree and here you are. Or you obey your master, which is why I’m sitting next to you. And the third way, well, they come for you, anytime, anywhere. Not much you can do about it. That’s how our Laura arrived.” She nodded toward the woman who had laughed.
“You mean kidnapped?” I exclaimed, rather more loudly than I should. That was a shock. I lowered my voice, hoping I didn’t break the ‘quietly’ order. “But, that’s illegal!” Up to this moment I had pretended there was still some rule of law protecting me. That illusion was breaking down. No real prison would be run like this.
Laura spoke up, “Sure it’s illegal, but here I am. Those…” she stopped, suddenly mindful of where she was, and the possibility someone might be listening to us. “Those men grabbed me in the middle of the day, threw me in a van and brought me here. They don’t seem to be too concerned about legal niceties.” I could see she was upset. I didn’t blame her since it now appeared as if I had arrived in much the same way.
The woman next to me continued, “My name’s Paula, by the way. And Laura’s right, the only law here is what the men holding us decide it will be. No limits, you say? Well, you got that part right. The Wardens do whatever they want with us. Even though you came here on your own they aren’t going to let you go, no matter how much you beg or demand. I suggest you don’t even try, it only annoys them, and that always leads to some kind of punishment.”
I heard the bar on the outside door being opened. Immediately I sat up straight, head high, staring straight ahead at the grey wall on the other side of the bars. I felt a nudge on my shoulder. “Knees touching, feet together in front of the lock on the floor,” Paula whispered to me. The door swung open.
The other Warden had told me to sit that way, but I forgot. I didn’t hesitate in following her advice. I had the impression Paula had been here before, from the way she spoke. I decided to watch her; she would know what to do. From the corner of my eye I could see she was sitting up exactly like me; I felt a tiny bit of satisfaction in getting something right.
I saw one Warden enter, leading a woman dressed, or rather undressed, and bound in the same manner as all of us on the bench. I watched her as she was led into the center of the hallway on the other side of the cell bars. Even though her ankles were chained together she had a certain grace, her stride precisely measured to use most of the chain but not pull it taut. Every move on her part was a response to the Warden’s grip. She seemed to know exactly what to do, before he told her.
He turned her toward the far wall and let go of her arm. She stood absolutely still, not moving a muscle. I could see the handcuffs on her wrists, identical to the ones I wore. Her hands were frozen, not a finger twitched. I envied her remarkable poise.
“Look at me,” the guard ordered. I turned my head slightly but did my best to keep still otherwise. “As new arrivals you require some basic information on the regulations here in the secure area: what is permitted, what is forbidden, what is expected, what is not tolerated. This woman will tell you what you need to know for today. She has permission to answer a narrow range of questions. If she declines to explain further, do not press the matter. You will be told what you need to know when you need to know it.” That last phrase was another one I would hear over and over. He took hold of the woman’s arm and turned her around to face us.
“You will sit quietly and pay close attention to what she says. When she finishes she will let each of you ask one question. She will tell you when you may speak, and when you will stop.” He let go of her arm. “You may begin when the door closes.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered softly. Without looking back he walked to the door, went through and closed it. The click of the lock, followed by the sound of the bar sliding across the door, was loud in the silent room.
Our lecturer let out a sigh and visibly relaxed. “You don’t have to sit in position,” she said, “I’m not a Warden.” She turned around and held out her arms, wrists cuffed behind her back. “That should be obvious. My name is Cathy, and I am an instructor here, although that doesn’t earn me much in the way of privileges. Likely you will see me many times during your stay. Before I begin I want to remind all of you not to speak until given permission. I’ll get to each of you in turn, so be patient. If you do talk out of turn I am required to report you immediately. You all heard the Warden’s order; I don’t have a choice in the matter. What happens after that, well, better you don’t find out right this minute.”
She walked over to my side of the bench. “A few of you I recognize. You know the rules but listen anyway. There are some changes since your last visit. Those of you here for the first time, we’ll start with the basics.”
She nodded to Paula, the woman sitting next to me. I realized they must be acquaintances. “Welcome to the world where male dominance is the law of the land. The first principle, the most important, the one you never forget, is obedience. A man, any man here, tells you to do something, you don’t argue the finer points. Don’t think, act. Hesitation can be construed as disobedience.” She started walking along the bars, looking at each of us on the bench.
“If you haven’t guessed yet, disobedience is the worst possible violation here,” she stopped for a moment. “I can’t stress this enough, do as you are told. Even the slightest hint you aren’t with the program, the Wardens will be all over you. They watch us constantly, and trust me they don’t miss those little details. Any mistake on your part they’ll know it. If you can, report an infraction yourself, before they get to you. It’ll go easier that way.”
She stopped at the other end of the bench, close to the door. “The second principle, be dependent. Maybe you think that’s a bad thing? If so, change your opinion right now. When you eat, when you sleep, even when you can speak, you need a Warden to allow it. If in doubt, always ask permission. If it isn’t allowed, chances are good it’s forbidden. Acting without a Warden’s express permission is almost as bad as disobedience. If it’s an emergency you can violate a regulation, but you better be prepared for the consequences. You are always, and I mean every single time, no matter what, punished for breaking rules. If it’s justifiable you get off lightly. If they think you’re trying to pull some kind of trick, they come down hard.”
Cathy walked back to the center of the corridor. “Third rule, pay attention, your attitude is important. You are expected to be an active participant, doing your best to adapt to your new life here. Show them a bad attitude, minimal cooperation, sarcastic responses, and you’ll find out they always have ways to make your stay worse than it is now. You will be taught the regulations here in the secure area, learn them by heart. Those rules exist so you know your boundaries. They form the framework that governs your lives from now on. Concentrate, focus on the moment, and never forget where you are.
“I want to add a word of warning. Maybe you think you can do enough to get by. You’ll go along, pretending, but you aren’t serious about applying what you will learn in here. You can try, but the men here are experts. They’ve been running this place for a long time and they’ve seen it all. You won’t fool them for a minute. All you will accomplish is earning some extra time inside these walls.
“You think nobody is perfect? Well, think again. That’s what you have to be. I mean perfect, as in no mistakes. If you ever hope to get out of here you must prove to the Wardens, and to yourself, you can do it.”
I thought about what she said. I would never admit it publicly but I really didn’t have a problem with her principles. In my own experience, though limited, I knew I could be obedient and dependent. Unlike many women these days I was comfortable following the lead of a strong, determined, confident man. But perfect? That was a new one, and it worried me.
She bent over, stretching her arms behind her. “These handcuffs really start to suck after a while, don’t they?” I smiled, a few of the women laughed. I wouldn’t argue the point. “The Wardens don’t care if we are uncomfortable wearing them. Why do they force these things on us? Because they can; that’s all the explanation you’ll get. They don’t justify their actions to us. In any case, I have yet to figure out how to get handcuffs off without help. Point is, you make the best of whatever is handed to you. Don’t expect, and don’t ever ask for an explanation. The Wardens tell us what to do; we obey, we depend on them to take care of us, and we respond with a positive, compliant attitude.”
She paused, a serious look on her face. “Maybe you don’t want to pay attention. You think you’re an independent spirit; you can make it on your own, nobody tells you what to do? You are welcome to try that kind of approach but what it will earn you is a quick lesson on just how miserable the Wardens can make your life. Nobody and nothing protects you in here. The Wardens literally have no restrictions on what they can do with, or to us. Think about that for a minute. Take a look around if you need confirmation.”
I did look around. I was isolated, cut off from the rest of the world, confined behind steel bars, chained hand and foot, stripped naked, in the hands of men accustomed to getting what they wanted. My existence depended on submitting to their authority, no matter my own preferences. She had a point.
I had well and truly gotten myself into the worst predicament of my entire life. That offer to come here had been the answer to all my problems, or so I had read into it. I wasn’t sure what I had expected but it certainly wasn’t an indefinite prison sentence.
I’d been in relationships with dominant men before. I had promised to obey them, and I’d always delivered on that promise, at least until it became impossible to continue. But I’d never been in a situation like I found myself in now. It had always been my right to choose the man who controlled me, and if he didn’t deliver I had the option to walk away. More than once I did just that, walk away. I began to understand the wording on that offer now. This time I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Now, let’s start with position. For those of you who have visited the Center before, this is something new. The Wardens have detailed rules governing how we stand, sit or kneel. There’s only one right way so listen carefully. When you are told to stand in position, keep your back straight, head high, don’t speak and, this is important, stare straight ahead. Do not look around. Arms go at your side, palms facing in. If you are told to sit down, same posture but your hands go in your lap. Your left hand is on top of your right, crossed at right angles. And if you are ordered to kneel, the rules can be complicated. For now you keep your knees together, hands go on your thighs halfway to your knees, and keep your palms down. You’ll be taught the rest later on. If you are wearing handcuffs, obviously you don’t need to worry about where your hands should be.”
She held out her hands again, behind her back. “By the way, get used to these things. Chains are the Wardens’ favorite tools to control us. Easy for them to use; but very difficult for us to ignore. Nearly always your hands will go behind your back, just to make life a little more complicated for us. There’s no secret in the fact they like to see us helpless. I don’t need to tell any of you how well these restraints make it impossible for us to resist the Wardens.”
Cathy backed up against the wall so we could all see her clearly. “Along with the handcuffs you might have noticed the leg irons on your ankles.” She spread her legs apart, pulling the leg chain taut. “Hard to miss, aren’t they? Leg irons will be your constant companion during the day. Wardens rarely take them off. They like us to walk slowly so don’t be in a hurry. Try to run with these on and you’ll fall flat on your face. Like the handcuffs it’s a tool to control us. When you are in position be sure to keep your legs together, with your feet just far enough apart to accommodate the cuffs on your ankles.”
“The exception is if you are ordered to spread your legs.” There were some giggles at the sexual innuendo. “Yeah, but not for that reason. It means you stand with your legs as far apart as possible, like I’m doing now. Keep the chain taut, if your ankles are hooked together. You’ll encounter this when the Wardens take off or put on your belt.”
She looked at Paula, sitting next to me. “Something else that’s new is what I like to call ‘wall inspection’. Part of keeping position, when you are on your feet, is facing the wall. The Wardens now make us face the wall while we’re standing. Don’t ask me why, but it’s what we have to do. You will have ample opportunity to examine all the walls in the secure area in great detail.
“For now remember this. When you are put against a wall do not move. Keep your eyes forward and do not, I emphasize this, do not look around! Stare at that wall; scrutinize the paint like you were studying for a final exam. Stay there until he tells you otherwise. It may be seconds, it may be hours. However long it takes, wait to be released from position.”
Cathy walked over to where I was sitting and stopped in front of me. All that separated us were the bars. “I’ll start the questions with you. State your first name and ask a question. Everyone, never use your last name in here, that’s a rule too. After you ask your question do not say anything more unless I tell you otherwise.”
Questions? I had a lot of questions but where to start? The most important first, even if I might not want to hear the answer. “My name is Lenora. I came here voluntarily. When will I be allowed to leave?”
She stared at me for a moment as if in disbelief. “I’m sorry; it’s just that it’s so rare to meet someone who made a deliberate decision to come here on her own. I can’t tell you when you will be permitted to leave, but the how? In a way that’s simple, if not easy. First thing, you satisfy the committee that oversees the secure area that you have been diligent in learning how to behave. Once you get past that then your master will decide when you are ready. The collar on your neck identifies you as his property. That gives him the final say as to what happens to you. When will he let you go, who knows?
“That applies to everyone here, even me. I can’t leave unless my master allows it. If I don’t meet his expectations today,” Cathy shrugged, “then I stay here. If he chooses I can easily find myself on the same side of these bars as you. You are all recent arrivals so don’t plan on leaving any time soon. For that matter, don’t plan at all. You won’t know until the last minute when you are going to get out.”
His property? A man now owns me? Someone I don’t even know, and I’m his plaything? I opened my mouth to ask her more, but the sudden frown on her face stopped me. I wasn’t supposed to continue unless she gave me the okay. I sat back against the bench. I could feel the collar move around my throat as it touched the back wall. At that moment I realized the point of forcing us to wear collars. In here we really were a man’s possession. Like it or not I couldn’t change that fact, any more than I could open the collar and take it off.
Who was this man I suddenly belonged to? How could I please him, how could I even learn to be “ready”, as Cathy had put it? I looked down at the chastity belt around my waist. If he was my master he would have the key to open it. I could please him that way, but somehow I knew it wasn’t the real point in being here.
Cathy shifted to Paula, the woman next to me. “State your first name and question,” she said in what was obviously a format she was required to follow.
“I’m Paula. My question…” she trailed off, seemingly lost in thought. “My question, which side of these bars would you rather be on?”
That wasn’t what I had expected. I looked at Paula and her intent expression. I turned to Cathy, who was at a loss for words. The question was personal and a pointed one. The two of them must know each other, probably for some time. Cathy might be in temporary charge of our little group but for the moment Paula had neatly turned the tables.
“I didn’t expect that! Where would I rather be, right this minute? If I had a choice I’d be sitting in there next to you instead of standing here. I’m on this side because my master ordered it. That doesn’t mean I like it.
“The rest of you should know Paula and I are old friends, so don’t think badly of her for asking. More than once our situations have been reversed. I think she might be having a bit of fun at my expense.”
She moved on to the next woman, who asked a simple question, “What happens next?”
Cathy didn’t answer immediately. She must have anticipated the question since it was so obvious, but still she hesitated. “I’m not going to answer that, in part because I don’t know, but even if I had some idea what the Wardens intended I wouldn’t tell you without their permission. You have to understand, information is a precious commodity in here. They will tell you what you need to know, but only when you need to know it. You will hear that over and over. My personal opinion, it’s to teach us patience, or maybe to keep us from worrying. But whatever the reason you have to learn to wait to find out.
“They keep us in the dark as much as possible. It’s one more way to control us. What will happen to me when I finish here? A Warden will take me somewhere. I’ll wait until he tells me what to do next. Maybe I’ll get to go home, maybe I’ll be sent to teach a class. Or maybe I’ll be punished because I failed in my assignment here. I hope not, but I do know it can happen.
“Same for all of you, don’t try to anticipate. Learn to be patient and wait. You’ll find out eventually. This is important. You asked what we call an improper question. Don’t ever do it again. You get a free pass the first time, but now you know. From now on it will be considered an infraction of the rules.” I wasn’t surprised at Cathy’s explanation. It fit right in with the picture I was forming of the Center.
I perked up with the next woman’s question. “When will we be given clothes? Is it some kind of uniform?”
Cathy shook her head. “No, there’s no uniform. There aren’t any clothes either. What you are wearing now is all you get. If you arrived here from the outside world then you know your street clothes were destroyed. That makes it just a little more difficult to escape from here. And if you came in from the other side of the Center, you know you can’t get to your clothes from the secure area.”
What was the other side? This was the first time I heard about it. Maybe she meant the living quarters for the people who ran this place. That was a bit of new information: there was another side and Cathy was allowed clothes there.
She continued, “The Wardens strip us to put us at a psychological disadvantage. Guess what, it works, even if you know why they did it. If it’s any consolation, the chastity belt stays on day and night. You get a short break from it in the morning when you take a shower. That’s when you have to clean the belt too, every single day. The Wardens supervise you closely then, so don’t get any ideas.”
Cathy had moved on to the next woman, the one called Laura, “State your first name and question.”
“My name is Laura, and I want to know what right you or anyone else here has to kidnap me and hold me prisoner against my will?” Laura stood up when she spoke. She wasn’t going anywhere, like the rest of us her ankles were chained to the floor. That didn’t stop her from continuing. “I want out of here right now! I’m not playing this game. The rest of you might want to be treated like sex slaves, not me. Get someone in charge in here. Take these chains off and find me some clothes. I want to be taken back home immediately. After that, we’ll discuss whether the police should be involved.”
I looked at Cathy, wondering how she would respond. I could see she was frightened from the look on her face. She didn’t say a word. Instead she hurried to the wall at the end of the hallway, as far away from the door as possible. She stopped at the far end, her nose almost touching the concrete block. She didn’t move or speak.
Paula nudged me again. “Sit in position,” she whispered. “Try not to attract attention to yourself. This is bad.” I took her warning to heart. Cathy’s reaction was enough to tell me I was about to see Wardens in action. I stared at the wall through the bars, wishing I was invisible.
Laura didn’t stop. “What are you doing? I told you to get someone in here, knock on the door, do something,” she shouted. “Are you trying to hide? That’s pathetic!”
It didn’t take long. I heard the door being unlocked. Here it comes, I thought to myself. Several Wardens rushed in. I dare not look around, but I could count four of them in front of me. I heard the key in the cell door. I held my breath, my heart pounding in fear.
Two of them came into the cell. They went past me. As quietly as possible I dared to breathe again. I couldn’t see what was happening but I heard Laura. “Finally, get these things off me.” After that all I heard were muffled protests. It sounded like she had been gagged. A moment later the two Wardens went by me, all but dragging her between them. The Warden standing in front of us shut the cell door behind them. Not one of the Wardens had spoken, which demonstrated a well-planned operation. In a matter of seconds Laura was gone.
Another Warden, standing next to the cell door, had retrieved Cathy. He stood behind her, hands on her arms, holding her in place.
“All of you, look at me.” I turned my head to the Warden standing in front of us. I saw Laura’s back disappear through the door, her hands still cuffed behind her. “I regret you had to witness this incident. You should know the rest of you behaved responsibly and will not be punished. You will not discuss what happened here.” He nodded to the Warden holding Cathy, gesturing at the cell door. “A meal is being prepared for you. When it is ready you’ll be taken to a place where you can eat.”
The other Warden unlocked the cell door, pushed Cathy inside and sat her down next to me. Using the same procedure when he brought me in, the Warden knelt down to fasten her leg chain to the floor. He stood up but didn’t leave. Instead he slowly walked up and down in front of the bench. On the way back he halted directly in front of Paula. “Lean forward,” he ordered. I was frozen in place but from the corner of my eye I saw Paula’s head. I saw him reach over her shoulder.
My heart stopped when he put a hand on my shoulder. “You too, lean over.” Without even thinking I bent over at the waist, as much as I could. The chastity belt hurt when it dug in. I felt his hand on my cuffs, checking to make sure they were doing their job.
Satisfied I wasn’t about to jump up and make a crazy dash to the open cell door he raised me back up before letting go of my shoulder. Only when he turned his back to leave did my anxiety level drop to something under blind panic.
He closed and locked the cell door. Both Wardens stood at the bars, looking us over. “When we leave you may talk quietly. The next time the door opens I want to see every one of you sitting in proper position. If even one of you is not in compliance, all of you will be punished.”
They left, shutting the hallway door behind them. I turned to look at Cathy. Why was she now part of our group? I started to ask but she shook her head.
“No, you heard, no discussion. That includes me. Please, could I have a minute to myself?” As she turned away I could see tears in her eyes. I was confused, why was she so upset? It wasn’t her fault that Laura had acted up. For a moment I felt sorry for Laura, what would they do to her? I was sure they would punish her, after all she had disobeyed practically every order we had been given.
That tempered my sympathy. I know not every woman is like me, but I can’t help feeling some disapproval when authority isn’t treated with respect. That includes obedience when a man’s in charge. In Laura’s case it was Cathy who had to face her tirade, but still, we are all under the control of the Wardens. Maybe I didn’t approve of their methods but they didn’t seem to be psychopathic monsters. Aside from the harsh conditions none of them had mistreated me. And why had Laura waited until the men were gone? No, the more I thought it over, the less I worried about Laura. Like it or not we were subject to male authority in here. Our place was to submit, not question and make demands.
I kept looking at the door, worried that it might suddenly open and I’d be out of position. I didn’t want to get into trouble but it would be far worse if my own mistake resulted in everyone else being punished too. “Don’t worry,” Paula told me, ‘we’ll have plenty of warning. Listen for the bar being opened, that’s the early warning system.”
“Thanks,” I told Paula. “I think I’m still in shock over what’s happened. This isn’t what I expected at all. I had the impression this was going to be some kind of extended stay in one of those commercial BDSM type dungeons.”
“Ahh, no,” Paula replied. “Forget about that. In here it’s all about getting into your head. And no, I’m not revealing any secrets. I’ve been in here many times. I can tell you Cathy’s advice is accurate. Don’t fight the program. You’re going to be here a while. Swim upstream and all you get is a longer stay to adjust your attitude. You can fight it but they have all the time in the world. Sooner or later they wear you down.”
I thought about Paula’s advice. What exactly did it mean, getting into my head? It sounded ominous, bringing up images of horror stories about brainwashing and psychological manipulation. I certainly didn’t want that kind of “life changing” experience.
First Meeting
“Good morning, gentlemen. If you would take your seats we’ll get started.” The shift captain walked over to the podium at one end of the room, in front of the conference table. “To start, I’d like to extend a personal welcome to the newcomers. As you are all aware we are chronically short of manpower. Their arrival is much appreciated. And for the rest of you some good news, no more double shifts.”
Steve was one of those newcomers. He had volunteered to be a Warden as much out of curiosity as his sense of duty in preserving the institutions represented by the Center. Up till now he had been a passive supporter, primarily financial, but the recent plea for help had finally motivated him to act. There were personal reasons too.
He looked around at the table at the other Wardens, all wearing the black uniform, leather duty belt and polished boots of Center Wardens. Their appearance was carefully crafted to be both authoritarian and intimidating. Every one of them was here for the same reason, to run the secure area in the Center.
With the training course behind him today he started the real job. He’d be working solo most of the day, but the helpful voice of Central was always in his ear. Central Control, or Central for short, was the monitoring center for the extensive network of surveillance cameras and microphones hidden throughout the secure area. The observers in the camera room saw and heard everything.
“To start I’ll go over the fundamentals. You veterans know it by heart but it never hurts to sit through the occasional refresher.” On the screen behind the podium a PowerPoint slide appeared, showing several bullet points.
“Here are the guidelines we follow. Our mission statement is to provide a certain experience for our female guests.” That brought a few chuckles from the men around the table. “Doesn’t that phrase have a nice sound to it, makes you think this is a luxurious spa? It doesn’t take very long for them to discover it’s not a Las Vegas resort.
“That brings us to the first point, consistency.” He highlighted the top bullet point on the slide. “We are not arbitrary in the ways we exercise control over the women entrusted to our supervision. Their rules of conduct are well-defined and easy to follow; in turn we enforce the regulations in a consistent and predictable manner. They understand what is expected, we provide the direction to help them meet those goals.
“You need to think before you act, because once you tell them what to do you are committed to a course of action. If you make a mistake you can’t take it back. That’s why we established procedures for you as Wardens. We’ll back up whatever you decide, but please consider that too. Your actions also commit the rest of us to follow through.”
“The reason consistency is so important is that when you are managing our guests you are always right. You have the unlimited power to rule by decree. They can’t question your orders; they can’t ask to talk about it first. There is no compromise, no building toward a consensus. They must believe in us as the ultimate and infallible source of authority over their lives. Do not ever let them see two of you disagree; it spreads doubt and undermines our ability to control them. Never countermand another Warden’s orders. It leaves them confused, unsure who to obey.”
The highlight changed to the next line on the screen. “This one you know, obedience. You are always in charge. They know it, they expect it. Whenever you are in the room they look to you for direction. We do our best to reinforce that image. Your uniforms are designed to project the image of power and authority. Along the same line their lack of clothing is deliberate, to put them at a psychological disadvantage. Same with the restraints and cells, you have complete physical control. You must display an attitude that says you expect nothing less than immediate compliance to your orders. Anything else is unacceptable, so you must be alert for any signs of hesitation or resistance. If you see any indication of push back, act at once to put a stop to it. Catch it early. Often a few words are all that’s needed to correct her behavior.
“Remember, letting it slide, pretending not to see, you won’t be doing her any favors. She knows what she did will warrant corrective action. If she gets away with it she will be disappointed, frustrated, and worst of all encouraged to try it again. Shut it down right away. It’s to her benefit, and it shows the rest of the group there are no favorites, no one gets away with anything.” Steve nodded in agreement. “One more point on that subject, do not show any favoritism towards the instructors. If anything they must be held to a higher standard. They’ve already been through the program. Keep a close eye on them, and come down hard for even a minor infraction. There’s no excuse for any of them to make mistakes. If you think they need to spend the night in the secure area, or more than one, don’t worry about her master. He knows it’s necessary.”
He moved down to the next bullet point. “And that brings us to security. You are the front line in enforcement. We have a perfect record here; no one has ever left without finishing the program. Yes, we have multiple layers of containment, but don’t rely on them. Always use restraints outside the cells, no exceptions. Every door has a lock, make sure they shut and latch. Open doors also leak information; make sure they don’t inadvertently see or hear any activity outside their own area. Keep them isolated.
“It doesn’t hurt to keep them guessing either. The less they know about what’s going on, the more difficult it is to form some kind of escape plan. Practice random checks even if there’s no reason for it. Limit group sizes and mix them up; it’s next to impossible to build a conspiracy if the members can’t stay in contact.
“And watch for any signs of marks on the walls. We make it as difficult as possible to navigate the corridors, as you all know. If any of them ever gets loose, they have no idea where to go. Keep it that way.”
Steve could vouch for that. Part of his training was an attempt to find his way around without the help of Central. Every corridor, ever door looked the same, and there were no signs anywhere. It was an endless maze, more than once he wound up going in circles. At least he had the keys to open the numerous doors and barred gates. Without those, anyone trying to escape would be quickly trapped.
“One last word before you start. We aren’t bullies, so don’t be petty or brutal. Keep in mind they are under tremendous stress. We have taken away everything they had, leaving them totally dependent on us. Yeah I know, what’s so bad about that.” He paused as the men around the table laughed. “And don’t forget these are intelligent and very perceptive women. They can read you like a book; they’ll know instinctively how to influence you.
“Don’t think you are immune either. Most of you have experienced the uncanny skill a submissive woman has in learning to read our minds. That’s why it’s so important to remain aloof and impersonal. Keep your orders short, to the point, give out only the minimum of information, and above all no casual conversation. The less they know about you the better, for your sake, not theirs. We take their ability seriously. That’s why Central keeps you moving around. It minimizes the time they have to learn about us.”
The captain picked up his clipboard from the table. “Okay, that does it. Check your pockets. No cell phones, no wallets, nothing you might accidentally drop and they pick up. No wristwatches, they don’t need to know what time it is. Keep those keys secured to your belt at all times. Shut those doors!
“I’ll run down the assignments for this morning. You’ll get this on your earpieces too, but I want everyone to be aware of what’s going on.” He began reading off names. “Steve, you’ll be part of the team handling the new arrivals.”
The Offer
The offer to come to the Center had arrived unexpectedly in my email. When I read it I was fascinated at how the sender seemed to know all about me. Ever the optimist I hoped it would deliver on what it promised. I knew something was missing in my life; maybe I could find an answer in a new setting. No matter how I tried I couldn’t find a relationship that would last. It had to be me, something I was doing wrong. That fateful email promised to be the solution. Whoever sent it understood I needed something more.
To those who know me it’s no secret I am attracted to men who are dominant, who make it clear what they want, and don’t hesitate when it comes to expecting their women to be submissive. I hear that tone of voice, see that look in his eye, and his words become the reason for my existence. Whatever he wants, that’s what I have to do. I can’t explain why, maybe it’s the way my brain is wired, or something in the genes.
I’ve always sought out that type of man for relationships. Some worked out better than others but none have lasted. I am never disobedient, that was a source of pride for me. I enjoyed being the submissive partner, but that became the problem. I was a partner. I knew I could stop and walk away any time I felt like it. No matter how much I worked at it I could never get that nagging thought out of my head. As time went on it ate at me, to the point I became frustrated and unhappy. Because of that doubt no relationship was ever really satisfying. There had to be some other way.
I had talked about it online with some friends, other submissive women. None had any useful advice, but one night I did get that email explaining there was a way to overcome all my doubts. It described a place, obviously kept secret, an isolated location where I would be able to fully realize my potential as a submissive female, a place founded on the core principle of male domination and female subjugation. Details were few, but it was clear this was no simple roleplaying game. As the email put it, the experience was “life changing”.
I was struck by the odd choice of words, ‘subjugation’ instead of the more common submission. It was a subtle difference but in hindsight I now understood the choice of wording. I should have paid more attention to what it implied. Subjugation was the perfect definition of what I faced now.
I still don’t know why I accepted. The terms were simple; place everything I owned in storage. Tell all my friends and acquaintances I was moving to another city and would get back in touch later. And the last detail, where I would be picked up in a parking lot at a certain time of day. Not just picked up, but arrested by the police, or someone posing as an officer, I wasn’t sure which. After the arrest I would not be taken to jail but to the Center, as it was called. The offer did contain a warning that once I was arrested it was the point of no return. From that point on I was committed to participate in the Center program to the end. The offer didn’t go into the details of just what that program entailed.
I was to take nothing with me. Everything I required would be provided. Essentially I would make myself disappear, so no one would have a reason to look for me. It was a classic recipe for some serial killer prowling the Internet. Bad as it sounded I still followed all the conditions, to the letter. Maybe it was desperation or just foolish dreams that made me accept. I went to that parking lot, was met by a police car, and after a little show of being arrested I was bundled into a police van and taken away. No one had a clue where I was now, and no one expected to hear from me anytime soon. I had been thorough in making sure the cavalry would not be riding to my rescue.
Ironic that detail about providing all I needed; everything provided turned out to be nothing provided, as far as clothes. This wasn’t the first time I’d been handcuffed, or even the first time I had to go without clothes. I’d even worn a collar a few times. It was my first time in a jail cell; I’d never even seen a real chastity belt before now; and I’d never been chained to the floor. All those other times were fun and games. I knew it would end the same night. Or I could stop it with a safe word.
There was no safe word this time. I suppose it was what I asked for, what I thought I wanted, but now it was real, and I knew my captors had no regard for the law. Within a very short time I learned subjugation meant just what it said, literally “under the yoke”, or in my case forced to obey without consent. In less than a day it went from an adventure to survival. My only course of action was to cooperate, do what I was told, and hope I’d find a way out some day.
We didn’t have to wait very long before the Wardens came back for us. They took us out of the holding cell one at a time, fastened us to a long chain with another handcuff on the right wrist, and then led us off into yet one more featureless corridor. There were only two Wardens handling us, one at each end of the long connecting chain, or what I later learned was called a gang chain. Cathy was in front, I was next, with Paula and the others behind me.
We went through two barred gates blocking the corridor, each time stopping so the lead Warden could unlock it, and halting again as the trailing Warden closed it again behind us. That’s when I got the first lesson on what Cathy had jokingly called “wall inspection”. Every time we stopped for a gate we had to face the wall. At each stop one of the Wardens went up and down our line to make sure we got it right. Anyone who dared to look to the side got an immediate reprimand from a Warden. Even though the shouting wasn’t aimed at me I still cringed. I thought about what Cathy had told us, so I stared at the wall, afraid to even breathe when a Warden passed behind me.
After passing through a gate we were put against the wall again while the Warden at the end of our line closed it. I didn’t know where they were taking us but it seemed to take forever to get there. We weren’t able to walk very fast anyway, due to the chains on our ankles. Combined with the wall routine at every door it turned into a slow, tedious trip. I didn’t understand why the Wardens insisted on such a clumsy, time consuming procedure.
There were no windows, no signs on the walls, no clue as to where we were. The men who designed this place clearly knew how to build a maze. Even if I had some way to get the restraints off, overpower the Wardens and grab their keys I’d be lost within minutes. They were serious about making sure we enjoyed their hospitality for as long as they liked. I suppose I should have been outraged, like Laura.
What I felt was admiration, even though I was the prisoner. This Center represented substantial resources to build and run. No detail was overlooked in their efforts to confine and control us. The hard work of the men behind it, the risk they took to capture and hold women like me, spoke of a certain personality. I was intrigued at what it said about the type of man it took to run the Center.
Even though I was a captive I didn’t fear for my life. No, that kind of man wouldn’t bring me here to be the victim of some hideous murder. Property, that’s what Cathy had said. I hoped that meant I was something to be desired, treasured and protected, but on his terms. Not on my terms though; no one had bothered to ask me. I thought about Laura’s comment that we were sex slaves. From the little I’d seen so far I had to believe she was wrong about that.
We stopped in front of a door. It looked like all the others we had passed. Once more we were ordered to face the wall. I heard the lead Warden open the door, but I couldn’t see what was inside. He explained what we were to do next, “You will be taken into this room one at a time. When you go in there will be a shelf with trays to your right. Each tray has the same meal. You will pick one up and take it to your assigned table. You will place the tray on the table, sit down in position, and wait for permission to eat. You will be given further instructions then.”
I finally understood why making us face the wall worked so well as a control technique. I couldn’t see where the Wardens were standing, or if they were watching me. Much as I wanted to look around I knew I had to stare at that blank wall. It was one more way we were placed at a disadvantage.
My ears still worked though. I felt some movement on the group chain, followed by his “turn around” order to Cathy. I heard her leg chain drag on the tile floor.
A moment later he was back, this time for me. I felt him remove the gang chain cuff and lower it to the floor. He took hold of my arm, steering me to the door as he ordered me to turn. Inside I saw Cathy sitting at a table, the untouched tray in front of her. His hold on my arm stopped me. Standing behind me he unlocked the handcuffs on my wrists before pointing to a tray.
The relief on my shoulders felt wonderful. After all this time my wrists were finally free. I took the opportunity to stretch before I picked up the tray. The Warden gestured towards where Cathy sat, indicating I should join her. I followed him to the table, where he pulled out a chair for me. I saw Cathy’s eyes tracking me but she didn’t move. Her hands were in her lap. I sat down as he pushed the chair in. Copying Cathy I carefully folded my hands in my lap.
He wasn’t done with me. He walked around the table to where he could see both of us clearly. I was relieved when I saw his nod of approval. He went back to the door. I couldn’t tell what he was doing but watching Cathy I was sure he was finished with us for now. I risked looking down at my tray to see what we were being fed.
The plate was covered with a plastic dish, to keep it warm. No clue there, but I did see a bottle of water, plastic utensils and napkins. The aroma woke up my appetite, though I wasn’t sure what we had been given.
The Warden was back again, this time with Paula carrying a tray. He seated her in the same manner. When he finished he backed up, to inspect us one more time. Cathy was right about that too. They do watch us constantly, checking every little detail. Details we had to get right every time. Perfection wasn’t going to be easy. The constant inspections wouldn’t give us many opportunities to get away with minor mistakes.
We were required to sit in position for quite some time, until the entire group was seated at the tables. I could see a pattern developing: making us wait was standard procedure, along with staring at walls. That one I already had plenty of practice in learning. Our day was going to be managed according to the Wardens’ schedule. Cathy was right; we did have to depend on them for everything.
“You may begin. You are allowed to talk, but only at your own table. Do not speak to anyone else, do not stand up, and do not leave your table. If you require assistance, raise your hand. You will have ample time to finish your meal so you need not rush.” That was from the Warden who had been at the end of our line. He left after his speech, closing the door behind him. The other Warden remained, but he went to a reserved area partitioned off from the rest of us. A rare sign warned us not to approach without permission. The warning seemed redundant to me since we weren’t even allowed to stand up, much less walk around.
Just to be safe I waited until Paula lifted off her plate cover before I reached for mine. I had a piece of chicken breast, potatoes and a vegetable mix. Cathy and Paula both carefully unfolded one of the napkins before placing it on their lap. I wondered about that, could we cover our legs? We weren’t given clothes for a reason. Both these women knew the rules here, so it must be acceptable to use a napkin that way. I did the same, carefully smoothing the napkin in my lap while I sat with my legs close together.
“This is different,” Paula started the conversation, holding up a fork with a slice of potato on it. “Quite a change from the old days, isn’t it? Remember eating and sleeping on the cold floor?”
Cathy nodded, “Yes, it’s more civilized now. There was quite a discussion on it. I was even asked to contribute my opinion. I argued the benefits of eating and socializing in a normal environment helped to make the stay here tolerable. You see the compromise. We get to sit at a table but we’re still separated into small groups. I don’t imagine you approve?”
I approved. I’d rather sit at a table than on the floor any day. Cathy’s last comment did seem strange. There was no hostility in the tone of her voice. They might be friends but I sensed they didn’t agree on some of the Center rules.
“You know my views,” Paula answered. “I prefer sitting at a table too, but not if it limits a Warden’s authority. No, I don’t agree, they should be free to control us as they see fit.” She turned to face me. “Lenora, you may as well know I’m considered to be a very conservative hardliner here, at least when it comes to topics of power and control. I expect my master to dominate my life, to tell me what to do, to say, even to think. I don’t want any restrictions placed on him, any more that I want anyone interfering with how I submit. That extends to the Wardens and how the secure area is run. You’ve heard of the term, ‘slippery slope’? Once it starts, the precedent is set to limit how we are managed; it won’t stop until we’ve lost everything the Center stands for. There should be no boundaries on how we are treated.”
If nothing else Paula was passionate in her beliefs. Whoever owned her must be an exceptional man to bring out such dedication and loyalty. Rather than get involved in what might turn into a political argument I went in another direction. “The old days? How long has the Center been here? I had no idea such a place existed. Did you really have to sleep on the floor?”
Cathy and Paula looked at each other, then at the Warden’s place in the back. He didn’t stand up. “My fault, I’ll tell him,” Paula said. “Lenora, forget what I said. You can’t ask questions like that about the Center, and we certainly can’t answer them. We aren’t allowed to mention details about prior visits either. I made a mistake and I’ll answer for it.” She turned around in her chair and raised her arm.
I was confused as to what was going on. I saw the Warden stand up. Cathy put down her fork and placed her hands in her lap. Paula did the same so I followed her example to be on the safe side. He was heading straight for us. Why had Paula called for him?
The Warden stopped at our table. As usual there was an inspection where he looked over all three of us. He turned to Paula and spoke, “What is it?”
Paula answered, “Sir, I broke a rule while we were talking. I mentioned details from a previous visit. No one else was involved.” She lowered her head and stared down at her hands.
He frowned. I knew Paula was in some kind of trouble though I still didn’t see what harm she had done. He took hold of the back of her chair. “Stand up, put the napkin on the table, hands behind your back.”
Paula must have expected it, for she stood up immediately. He reached for a holder on his duty belt. A moment later Paula wore those hinged handcuffs I now hated. He pushed her chair back. “Kneel, face the woman on your left. You are forbidden to speak.” He held her arm, steadying her as she knelt. The tile floor must be uncomfortable on her bare knees. “Spread your legs,” he ordered. Paula immediately opened her legs wide. “More, and keep that back straight.” She straightened a tiny amount.
I was that woman sitting on the left. Was I supposed to do something? I looked up at the Warden. “The two of you will finish your meal. Afterwards you will feed this one by hand. Do not rush, she will wait for you to finish. Make sure she eats everything. Raise your hand if she does not cooperate or if she breaks position. Do you understand?”
He stared at me. I wasn’t being punished but I was still terrified. “Yes…yes, sir. I understand,” I managed to stumble out. For a moment I thought I’d wind up next to Paula on the floor, but he must have been satisfied with my stammered answer. He returned to his area in the back.
I looked down at Paula. She didn’t look at me, that wasn’t allowed. I turned to Cathy, who hadn’t moved a muscle during the Warden’s visit. “What should I do?” I asked.
She picked up her fork and resumed eating. “You heard him. We eat. Then you feed her. While you’re at it, keep checking to make sure she doesn’t move. He made you responsible for her.”
I looked down at Paula again. She was still staring straight ahead, legs painfully spread wide. “Don’t speak to her,” Cathy warned. “She’s being punished. If you interfere you get the same, or worse. She’s familiar with how it works and what you have to do. Ignore her, as long as she keeps position.”
I continued eating. Every few bites I looked down at Paula. I might not like it but I had a duty to perform. “Cathy, can you tell me why Paula called the Warden? I don’t get it. Didn’t she know what would happen?” It seemed strange, talking about Paula as if she wasn’t there.
“Of course she knew. You heard her take responsibility. It’s simple; she broke the rules, so she had to answer for it. It doesn’t make any difference if the Warden heard her or not. She has to report it. The moment you asked your question we both realized she had crossed the line. The same would have happened if I had started it, except I’d be the one on the floor.”
When I finished I pulled Paula’s tray over so I could start feeding her. She still knelt on the floor. I picked up her plate in one hand, bent over to better reach her, stabbed a bite of chicken and held it out to her, plate under her chin. She looked at me, opened her mouth and took the food. After a couple of tries I got into a rhythm where she was able to chew and swallow before the next morsel. When I looked up everyone in the room was watching me. Everyone except the Warden, he was still behind his partition. I had no idea if he was observing us too.
There was no conversation to go with her meal. She wasn’t allowed to speak, nor could Cathy or I talk to her since she was being punished. When she finished eating I wiped Paula’s face with her napkin. I wasn’t sure what to do next, so I asked Cathy.
“Put your hands in your lap. We can talk but you should sit still. When he stands up, stop talking, sit up straight and don’t move.” Yet one more pattern learned, sit with my hands in my lap if I wasn’t busy. I checked Paula again. She was back to staring straight ahead. She didn’t have the luxury of putting her hands in her lap.
Incident Management
After the shift meeting broke up Steve headed for the new arrival holding area. Central whispered directions in his ear so it didn’t take long to find the place. He went into the Warden’s entrance. There were a few chairs and some wall monitors showing different views of the holding area. One Warden sat drinking a cup of coffee, watching the monitors. Occasionally he lifted a set of headphones to one ear, listening in on the conversations.
“Steve, isn’t it? My name’s Joe.” Steve shook his outstretched hand. “We have a little time, grab a cup and have a seat. I’ll brief you on what we’ll be doing.” Joe gestured toward the coffeemaker in the corner.
Steve poured a cup and sat down next to Joe. “I just seated the last arrival a few minutes ago. We’ll let them absorb some of the room ambiance for a while.” The monitor displayed a line of women sitting on a long wooden bench, behind cell bars. “Handcuffs behind their backs, leg irons on their ankles. No clothes, of course. Just to make it interesting their ankle chains are locked to the floor. Nothing says helpless like being immobilized.”
Steve used the camera control to pan across the bench, studying each woman for a moment. “They don’t look too happy,” he pointed out. He wouldn’t be too pleased either if forced into the same situation.
Joe nodded. “Yeah, not the most pleasant of waiting rooms. It keeps them off balance. They have no idea what’s going on. It puts them in the right frame of mind for us. We provide the stability they need. You’ll be surprised at how eager they are to please you.”
Central came on the line, whispering in Steve’s ear that another woman was about to arrive. Joe explained, “This one is their instructor. She’ll do the orientation. You can handle it. Take charge of her in the hallway outside, bring her into the holding area and introduce her. Her name’s Cathy, she’s been through here so she knows the rules. She won’t give you any trouble, but keep an eye on her anyway. We don’t show any favoritism, even to instructors. I’ll be here if you need backup.”
Steve nodded in acknowledgement. He sipped at his coffee, stood up, checked his uniform and finished with a last look at the monitors. He went to the door and out into the corridor. The monitoring areas were strictly off limits to all females, even the instructors. Central coordinated women in transit to make sure none of them knew the places existed. From the hallway it was just one more door.
A moment later the shift captain came around the corner, leading a woman restrained with the standard issue handcuffs and leg chains used for transportation. Central informed him her name was Cathy and she would be placed in his custody. Mindful of keeping conversation to a minimum he took hold of her other arm when the captain stopped. They nodded to each other, a silent transfer of control. She didn’t speak. She knew talking was forbidden.
Central mentioned she needed to know why she was here. He started to explain, “In a moment you will deliver an orientation lecture to a group of new arrivals. When I open the door you will enter first. I’ll stop in front of the group. You will turn to face the wall and remain there until I tell you to start. When you finish you will go back to the same position and face the wall again. You may move around while talking. Is that clear?”
She looked up at him. “Yes sir, I understand. No questions.”
He took her over to the door to the holding area. Before opening it he pushed her against the door, pinning her with one hand. With his free hand he checked her handcuffs. They were locked, snug not tight, keyholes away from her hands, everything in order as he expected. She didn’t move. He glanced down at her leg irons. Finally he ran a hand over the chastity belt around her waist. A quick tug showed it was secure. He took his hand off her back, shifting her to one side so he could open the door. She might be a long term resident of the Center, an instructor, but it didn’t hurt to remind her who was in charge.
He knew Joe was watching. Central was always there too. Steve might be a newcomer but he took his duties seriously. Instructors received no special consideration. Pulling out his key ring from his belt he unlocked the holding area door. This particular door also had a heavy and very noisy bar across it. He worked the lever to open it and slide it out of the way. It was a totally unnecessary addition but did serve a purpose, to warn the women inside he was coming.
It went smoothly. He led her to the center where she immediately turned to face the wall. Everyone on the bench sat up, staring straight ahead. He took his time inspecting them; their diligence should not go unnoticed. He turned them over to Cathy and left, again making a noisy show of closing the door.
Back in the monitoring room Joe had his headphones on, listening to Cathy talk. Steve refreshed his coffee before joining Joe at the monitors. Idly he played with the camera control panning back and forth, zooming in to catch their expressions as Cathy delivered her speech. He was busy looking at the woman on the end when Joe suddenly snapped his fingers and pointed at the other monitor. “Steve, we have a problem. Get Central, we’re going to need some help. Two more, at least. They’ll know what to bring.”
On the screen Steve saw one of the women standing up. He grabbed the phone and alerted Central. They were on the same video feed; help would be there momentarily. He picked up the headphones and listened in. What he heard confirmed his suspicions. She was off on a rant and had to be stopped immediately.
Joe pulled open a drawer, grabbing a large gag as they headed out the door. Two more Wardens came running around the corner. One held a hood in his hand. As the senior officer Joe laid out their plan. “Steve, you take the doors. Mike, you take charge of Cathy. Larry and I will subdue and extract that woman. Steve will take charge of the room as soon as we get her out the main door. Central will fill you in on what to do after that. Everyone ready?”
Steve nodded. The others lined up while he worked the door bar and unlocked it. The moment he pulled the door open they rushed in. Steve took a quick look to assess the situation. Cathy was at the far end, facing the wall. Mike wouldn’t need any help there. He went to the cell door, key at the ready. He quickly unlocked and swung it open. The extraction team was right behind him. Steve kept an eye on the rest of the women while Joe and Larry took charge of Laura. In seconds they had her gagged, hooded, and were dragging her toward the door. She was trying to fight back but with the restraints on she didn’t accomplish much. He shut and locked the cell door the moment they were clear.
Steve backed up to the center of the hallway for a better view of the entire group. Mike had Cathy in hand, next to the cell door. The rest of the women were quiet, a good sign. Meanwhile Central started speaking in his ear. They wanted Cathy placed in the holding area. He saw Mike reach for the cell door, confirmation he got the same message. It was time to take charge of the room.
He needed their attention focused on him. The first requirement was stability and reassurance. Steve started with an apology followed by approval at the way they responded. Next he needed something to divert them away from the incident. Central came to the rescue, informing him they had moved up the new arrival meal break. While he spoke Mike finished with Cathy.
Steve took time out for an inspection, carefully looking at each woman on the bench. Only Cathy showed any signs of distress. They were responding to him, exactly as he intended. He announced the upcoming meal and let them know they would have some time alone first. Mike checked the cell door before the two of them left.
Once outside Steve shut and barred the door. “Central, situation contained,” he announced to the microphones. “Mike, we better get to those monitors.”
Mike already had the Warden’s door open. “What’s the deal with Cathy? Why did Central want her in with the group?”
Steve shook his head. He sat down at the monitors and picked up a set of headphones. “That surprised me too. She did the right thing, backing away. She must have known we’d be coming.” He panned one of the cameras to the end of the bench where Cathy was sitting. Zooming in he could see her crying. “I see it now, she blames herself. She expected to be hauled off along with that other woman.”
Mike leaned over to look at Cathy on the display. “You’re right. Putting her in with the group will give her time to settle down. She’ll see it as a demotion from instructor, the punishment she thinks she deserves. An overnight stay should be sufficient. We can pull her out tomorrow if she behaves.”
Both the Wardens continued to watch over the group, until Central informed them the meals were in the break room. Steve decided to go slow in moving them by requesting a long, circuitous route from Central. It would be an irritating distraction they could safely complain about while eating, rather than trying to find a way to rehash the incident without breaking the order not to discuss it. He and Mike worked out how they would release one woman at a time to the break room tables.
It took time but everything went smoothly. Central needed Mike elsewhere, leaving Steve alone to oversee the break room. He went to the back of the room where a partitioned area was reserved for Wardens. On the table was a tray so he could eat too.
The partition hid him from view but the display in his area showed him everything. He was halfway through a ham sandwich when he saw Paula’s arm go up. He hadn’t seen anything on the monitor, and Central was silent. Puzzled, he stood up and went out to see what was going on.
The moment he stood up, conversation stopped at the tables. Everyone sat up, hands in their laps, as he walked by. Wardens weren’t supposed to take advantage of the Center guests but Steve did allow himself a moment to enjoy the scene. He took his time, looking over every table as he went by. This was one of the perks of being a Warden. Every woman in the room was under his direct control and they proved, to his satisfaction, they knew it.
When he reached Paula the three women all sat in position. He didn’t see anything wrong. From the uncovered plates he knew they had been eating. He gave Paula permission to speak. Her explanation left him confused. It wasn’t clear she had actually broken a rule; he’d have to review the recording first. But that would take too long, he had to act now. He tried to buy some time to think by going through the motions of inspecting the three of them.
Central came on line, informing him that Paula had an extremely strict master. They also warned him that Cathy was a close friend. The third woman at the table was a first time arrival. The immediate problem was how to deal with Paula. She was accustomed to very high expectations, above even what the Center practiced. That settled it; Steve knew he would have come up with some punishment for her regardless of the details. But what would be appropriate?
Seeing the half eaten plate in front of Paula gave him the idea. He ordered her up, cuffed her hands behind her back, and forced her to kneel. No, he thought, not enough. He ordered her to spread her legs wide apart. Now he could finish it. Using Cathy was out of the question since they were friends. He ordered the other woman, the newcomer named Lenora, to feed Paula by hand. That would make a point to the rest of the group as well as satisfy her need to be disciplined. As a bonus it might be worthwhile to see how well that new one carried out her instructions.
Steve gave them permission to continue before returning to his area. Once he was out of sight the conversation picked up again. On the monitor he kept an eye on their table. Out of curiosity he picked up the phone, dialed Central, and asked them to replay the conversation. A few minutes later it began to play in his earpiece.
He listened carefully. Paula never actually revealed what would be considered significant information. She did admit to previous attendance, and Cathy had gone along, but for Steve that didn’t merit disciplinary action. At most he would have resorted to a verbal reprimand in private. For her to react that way she must have a tough, intolerant master. Unfortunately she escalated it to the point where he had to act. Central was required to report any punishment to the woman’s owner by the end of the day, so her master could decide if further correction was needed. Steve hoped for Paula’s sake her master would be satisfied with his creative choice of punishment.
Cathy’s owner would be notified too, since she wasn’t going to be released at the end of her instructor shift. Apparently Central had decided to err on the side of caution in her case. Steve considered her situation. His preference would be to leave her in the secure area for a few days, maybe a week. She hadn’t been at fault but he felt it best to reinforce that she was still subject to punishment after incidents of disobedience, even though Cathy had not been the one at fault. It would be interesting to see how she was handled.
Although he focused on Paula’s table Steve did not neglect the rest of the group. Every few minutes he would pan around with the camera, and listen in to what was being said. Most of the conversations were about Paula, which was no surprise. Seeing someone else being disciplined was an excellent incentive for everyone to watch their own behavior. Vague threats and ominous hints had changed into an up close and personal kind of reality. They would be motivated in following orders for the rest of the day.
Tiger by the Tail
That evening after his shift ended Steve sat at a table in the Center cafeteria, eating supper and reflecting on the day’s events. The one incident was unfortunate but had been dealt with quickly and the impact minimized. The rest of the day had gone well.
“Mind if I join you?” Steve looked up to see a large man standing at his table. “My name’s Mike Vitelic, better known around here as Big Mike, sometimes mining engineer and full time insensitive control freak.”
Steve stood to shake his hand, “Steve Garran, here to fill in as a Warden on a temporary basis. A control freak? How did you ever get into a place like this? Have a seat.”
Big Mike sat down across from Steve. “Sorry to interrupt your dinner. By way of explanation I own Paula, the woman you dealt with this afternoon. I’d like to get your perspective on what happened, if you don’t mind. I’ve seen the video.”
Steve studied the man across the table. So this was Paula’s dictatorial master, according to Central. Big Mike was a fitting nickname; he could pass for a weightlifter or pro wrestler. “I’m not sure what I can add if you’ve seen what happened. She admitted to breaking a rule, in front of others. I didn’t have many options.”
Big Mike held up his hands. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not second-guessing you. You have to understand how Paula thinks. I am firm with her, but it’s by necessity. In her own way she is very demanding in what she expects from men, at least the dominant kind. If she believes she’s done something wrong, real or not, she has to be held accountable for it.
“Normally I’d handle it, but I’m off on a business trip in an hour. Whenever I’m gone she has to go to the secure area for her own good. You might say she’s the polar opposite of a control freak; she needs to be under a man’s control on a constant basis. Believe it or not she thrives in there. Tell me, after you finished with her punishment, how did she act?”
Steve had been surprised at how Paula showed no aftereffects when he had released her from kneeling on the dining room floor. “As if nothing had happened, that’s how she responded. I did notice that. I expected some resentment, maybe a little hesitation, but no, there was no push back. If anything I’d call it contentment, or maybe satisfaction. I wouldn’t say she looked too happy while kneeling on that floor.”
Big Mike nodded, “Yeah, that’s Paula. Despite what happened today you’ll find you never have any trouble with her. Whenever she’s in your group, and you need them to do something that may be difficult, start with her. She’ll set an example for the rest. She does need extra attention, though. Even with the smallest infraction you need to respond quickly, and when you do, don’t hold back. That may sound cruel, but you saw her today. She has to be satisfied the punishment fits the crime, and in her eyes any infraction starts out as a major felony.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Steve answered. “You saw how she pretty much forced my hand? If I’d overheard it before she called me I might have had a few words of warning, nothing more. What she did was borderline anyway.”
Mike shook his head. “Oh no, that’s not how she sees it. It was at about the same level as her standing up, throwing her tray at you, and then instructing you in great detail where to go and how to get there.” Steve laughed at the description. “She thinks she got off easy. Next time you’ll have to do more, or she won’t respect you. In fact, even if she behaves flawlessly, make something up and give her a hard time about it. Maybe she’s not staring at the wall right, so chew her out at length, preferably in front of a group.”
“Okay, if you insist. Not my style, but it’s your call. If you don’t my asking, do you have to spend a lot of time keeping an eye on her?”
Mike shrugged. “Yes I do, but I don’t mind. I suppose it’s a bit like that old cliché, grabbing a tiger by the tail. Whatever you do, don’t let go. I’ve got both hands on that tail so yeah, I have to work just as hard keeping track of and enforcing rules as she does. Heaven forbid I forget one and she has to remind me. She never criticizes, of course, but I get looks that let me know I better get with the program.”
Steve shook his head in disbelief. “To each their own, I suppose. No offense, but I wouldn’t want to change places with you.”
Mike stood up. “None taken. Yeah she’s a handful, my Paula, but I’ve never regretted owning her. Anyway, gotta run if I’m gonna beat freeway rush hour to get to the airport. Nice meeting you, and thanks again for taking care of Paula.”
Afternoon Class
After eating we were taken to a classroom. There were chairs stacked in a corner but we weren’t allowed to use them. Instead we had to kneel on the floor. The floor was tiled and would have been very uncomfortable on bare knees, but fortunately we were given cushions. I was grateful for that.
The Wardens assigned the seating. We weren’t allowed to talk or look around. We all had ankle chains on but no handcuffs. Except for Cathy, she was taken out of our group and brought to the front of the room. The Warden escorting her forced her against the wall, wrists still locked behind her back. He kept one hand on her arm while he waited for the other Warden to organize the rest of us on the floor.
Once we were in place the Warden in front spoke. “Alright, we’re ready. I want you to pay special attention in this class. There will be a lot of information presented. You are expected to learn it, remember it, and practice it while you are here.” He turned Cathy around to face the class.
“While this class is in session Cathy will be the instructor. She is well known for her skills and knowledge regarding the subject for this afternoon. You will do whatever she says. Do not interrupt her. Do not speak out of turn. She is required to immediately report anyone who misbehaves.
“When the session ends she will no longer be an instructor. You are not to show any deference to her outside of this class.” He reached behind Cathy to remove her cuffs. When he finished she stood quietly, arms at her side. “You may begin after we leave.” That last comment was directed to Cathy.
The moment the door closed behind the Wardens Cathy began. “We have quite a bit on the agenda for today. Try to keep up. There will be time for questions later. For now you will kneel where you are.” She paced back and forth across the front row as she spoke. “Today we will talk about presenting yourself and keeping position. I’m going to teach you how to sit, how to stand and how to kneel. This is always the first lesson when you arrive because it’s one of the most important.
“First thing, remember there’s only one right way, the Wardens’ way, and no exceptions are ever made for anyone. Maybe you don’t like it; maybe you think you can improve on it. They aren’t interested. What you learn here, in the next few hours, you must put into practice every minute of the day from now on. You will get it right.” I didn’t miss how she stressed that last part.
A side wall was covered with mirror panels. She went over to that section of the classroom. “I want all of you to stand up, now.” I stood up and turned to face her. “Each of you find a spot in front of the mirror. There’s a blue line on the floor, line up on that. Do not step over the line. There should be enough room for everyone. Bring your cushions, but put them on the floor behind you.”
I found a spot in the middle of the line, facing the mirror. I looked down to see where I was. I lined up my big toes with the blue line, not quite touching it. My reflection was quite a sight: lots of skin offset by the chastity belt around my waist and between my legs.
“Good,” Cathy said. “Next, I want you to stare straight ahead. Look at your own eyes. Concentrate on that, nothing else. Keep your back straight and shoulders pulled back. Your arms should be at your sides, palms facing in. Your feet should be slightly apart, not touching but close together.”
I looked at myself. I was no beauty queen, maybe average looking if someone were generous. I felt a hand poke me between my shoulder blades. “Pull back those shoulders. The men like to look at our breasts. Show them off to the best advantage.” That was Cathy, behind me. I was embarrassed but I still shifted my shoulders. “Your legs are too far apart. Knees should be close together, but not touching.”
I started to look down. Cathy grabbed my hair and pulled back, painfully. “Do NOT move your head! Learn to get it right without looking.” I slid my feet together until I felt my knees touch, and then backed off. “That’s better. Everyone, once you are in position never turn your head without permission.”
She moved on to the woman next to me. No one was spared some type of adjustment. Even Paula, who I thought would know this by heart, was subjected to Cathy’s criticism. She kept us standing for some time, walking back and forth behind us.
“Study your reflection. This is how you must present yourself to the Wardens, or your master. This is an obligation we must fulfill. Every one of you is here because of the special qualities you possess, the talents that make us so desirable and valued by the men who run our lives. They take on a great burden in assuming responsibility for us. Show them you appreciate what they do for you.
“Never forget you have a duty to please those men. Holding position is one way to demonstrate your devotion, your obedience, the way you accept his authority. Look at the mirror. What do you want him to see? What are you saying to him?”
After hearing her words I did take a closer look at myself. Head held high so that the collar would be clearly visible. Keep our arms to the side, to frame the chastity belt around our waists. I began to understand why we must stand this way. I was in my place, emphasizing the ways in which I was subject to his physical control.
“This is your normal stance. Most of the time in here you will find yourself facing a wall. Do not look to the side. Study every small crack in the concrete. Imagine you can feel the texture of the paint. But most importantly, learn to keep those eyes focused in front of you no matter what’s going on.”
I wondered about why we had to face the wall so often. It must be an obvious question, for Cathy began to explain. “Why are you required to face the wall? The easy answer is the Wardens order it, so we obey. There are other reasons though.
“In the orientation I mentioned that information was precious. You will soon appreciate just how little we know about what’s happening around us. What time is it? You don’t know, and you never will while you’re in here. What’s in the news? I don’t have a clue, and you won’t either. When you face that wall you won’t even know what’s happening right behind you. It’s one more way you are forced to depend on the Wardens.”
That made sense, from their perspective. The less I knew, the easier it was to manage me. I didn’t much care for it though. I liked to plan out my day first thing in the morning, while eating breakfast. My schedule will still be arranged in advance from now on, but I won’t be the one doing the planning.
“When a Warden has you in the standing position you can expect two other commands. The first is to place your hands behind your back. You do not break position other than to place your hands in the small of your back, close together but not touching, and keep your palms facing each other. He will, nearly always, fasten handcuffs on your wrists.” We already had a taste of that, the moment we arrived.
“The other command is to spread your legs. That means you change your position so that your feet are far apart, within the limits of your leg chains. Pull the chain taut. The best technique is to keep your left foot on the floor and slide your right to the side. If you don’t have the room then move both feet. What’s important is you demonstrate your ankles are chained together. I want everyone to spread now.”
I pulled my leg chain tight, my legs as wide as possible given the length of the chain. It wasn’t uncomfortable since the leg irons sharply limited my stance. What immediately caught my attention was in the way it drew my eyes to the chastity belt and the way it ran between my thighs. It was a stark reminder of how we are forced to display our sexuality.
“Hands behind your head, arms wide, pull back those shoulders as much as you can.” She made us stand that way for several minutes. “The men like to see this, so pay close attention now or prepare to explain later on when you are not found to be pleasing.”
Cathy kept us at for quite some time. How long, I had no idea. She was right, there were no clocks anywhere. Over and over she paced behind us, watching for the slightest mistake.
“Are you getting tired? Would you like to sit down?” I would, but from Cathy’s tone I had some misgivings. “Okay, I want everyone to go over to the corner and bring back a chair. Put it down so that when sitting your feet are in the same place as if you were standing. Do it now.”
I followed the group over to the corner and picked out a chair. I took it back to my spot and sat down to check the position. I had to slide it forward so I was in the same place.
Cathy waited for all of us to sit down before she continued. “Now you learn how to sit. Both feet on the floor, knees together, legs almost touching, back straight, head high, and keep those eyes front. Fold your hands in your lap, left hand over the right; keep those fingers together, palms down, and at right angles. Check in the mirror to see how you look.”
It was almost identical to our standing position, except for the hands. I didn’t want my hair pulled again so I studied my reflection. I moved my left hand slightly so it was properly aligned. And I remembered to pull back my shoulders this time.
I saw Cathy behind me, in the mirror. I waited for her criticism. It was obvious why the Wardens used her to teach position; she was fixated on perfection. She looked me up and down, even coming around to check from the front. Instead of a long list of what I was doing wrong she just stood there, staring at me. I did my best to hold still, hoping I wouldn’t flinch when she started on what I missed.
When she moved on to the woman next to me I was shocked. Why was she ignoring me? My neighbor, who got the full treatment on why her hands weren’t correct, wasn’t spared from lengthy criticism. The only explanation I could think of was I met with her approval. I didn’t relax though. In the mirror I saw Cathy look back at me several times. I felt like a mouse waiting for the cat to pounce on me the moment I flinched.
As with our standing exercise she kept us in position for quite a while. It wasn’t so bad sitting down. When she decided we’d had enough she allowed us to stand up and stretch. We restacked the chairs in the corner.
After that we moved on to the last topic for the class, how to kneel. This time the cushions replaced the chair. Our knees had to be close to the line. In some respects it was like sitting, back straight, eyes front, all the usual. We knelt with our knees together, although Cathy warned us if ordered we would spread our legs wide. I had seen that happen with Paula. Our hands were to be placed halfway down the thigh, palm down.
Cathy didn’t spare me on this position. My feet were wrong. My fingers were apart, not close together, my elbows stuck out too far. She was on me until I got everything right, and even then she kept walking around me, looking for something else I had done wrong. It was a relief when she finally began on the unfortunate woman to my right.
I soon realized kneeling was the worst of our three positions. My legs started aching after only a few minutes. Holding my hands on my legs was awkward. Soon my shoulders started hurting too. Now I appreciated what Paula had to go through when we were eating.
While we were on the floor Cathy allowed us to ask questions. When my turn came I was ready. “How do we know when we are supposed to be in position? Is it only after a Warden tells us?” I asked. My worry was there were more rules we didn’t know about yet.
“The easy answer is, when in doubt, always assume your position. You won’t be punished for doing it on your own, assuming you haven’t been told something else. Otherwise the answer is, you only have to assume position when ordered. But keep in mind they like to see us standing or sitting, and especially kneeling, in this way. Doing it on your own, without being told, proves you take the lessons here seriously.”
Her explanation made sense. It confirmed what I’d learned from my own experience. Those times when I had a man in my life, and when he was willing to act in a dominant way, I loved those moments when I went “above and beyond”, as I liked to call it, not just obeying him but following his direction with enthusiasm, looking for other ways to please him by applying his wishes in any way I could find.
Thankfully Cathy didn’t keep us on the floor for very long. When we were allowed to stand she announced that was the end of the class for today. Along with everyone else I lined up in front of the door, waiting for the Wardens to come for us. Cathy was the last in line.
The First Evening
We were in a line facing the rear wall. Once again the Warden provided us with an opportunity to examine our cell wall in close detail. My mind started wandering, imagining how we might have a quiz on the composition of the paint used in the Center. Aside from the boredom of staring at the wall I didn’t mind because I wasn’t wearing those much too effective handcuffs or the leg chains. The sound of the cell door closing brought me back to the present. That was a good sign; we were going to be in here for a while.
He hadn’t released us from position yet, so he must still be there, somewhere behind us. I wondered if Wardens ever forgot to let us go. I imagined him walking off, distracted, leaving the three of us standing in front of this wall all night until our legs gave out and we collapsed on the floor. I had the middle position, Paula to my left, Cathy to my right. That might be an advantage. I could fall on top of one of them as long as my legs didn’t give out first.
Less than one day here and I was already terrified of being punished for disobedience. I couldn’t bring myself to even look to either side; I had to stare straight ahead. I was certain the Warden couldn’t see my face, he would never know, but that didn’t make a difference. I was obsessed with standing correctly, not moving, waiting for him to tell us what to do next.
I hoped he would let us sit down soon. I was tired from the long day and needed to rest. My legs were stiff and sore from all the walking and standing. And standing, and standing, the Wardens loved to keep us in position against the walls.
“You have permission to move around the cell after I leave. You will not touch the bars in front. There is a blue line on the floor; do not cross it. While the lights are up you may sit or stand but not lie down. If a Warden passes by you will stand and face the front. When the lights dim you may lie down and are not required to rise when a Warden is present. At that time you may cover yourself with the blanket, but it must remain on the bed. You may not cover your head with the blanket. Turn around.”
On cue all three of us turned around to face him. I did remember to turn clockwise. That was a rule too; always turn in the same direction unless told otherwise. We still had to hold position, staring at him on the other side of the bars. He took his time inspecting us, something Wardens never failed to do, before walking off. Were they really looking for some tiny mistake, or just gawking at the eye candy? Whatever the reason I wasn’t brave enough to find out by acting up and provoking a response. I waited until I heard the outer door shut before breaking position, as did Paula and Cathy.
I looked around at our room for the night. There wasn’t much to it. There were bunk beds, a pair stacked on each side wall, and a toilet in one corner. Each bunk had bedding. At least I wouldn’t be spending the night on the floor. It would take some time to get used to the fact I no longer had a private bedroom and a soft bed to sleep in.
It looked like this was going to be our luxury penthouse suite for the night. About a foot from the cell bars there was a blue line painted on the floor. It didn’t leave us much space. I didn’t see any reason for that line except to make the cell a little more claustrophobic. No touching the bars at the front of our cell, that made me curious. Maybe he left the door unlocked? No, I doubted they ever made that kind of mistake
There wasn’t a mini bar so I’d have to skip that relaxing glass of Napa Valley red for the evening unwind. I didn’t expect to have room service available in the morning, but I was sure we would get a wakeup call. I couldn’t complain about the view, since there weren’t any windows. I didn’t see any chocolates on the pillows either. I smiled, thinking with service like this there’d be no tip for the maid tomorrow. At checkout time I was sure we would be promptly informed when it was time to leave.
“Does anyone want this one?” I patted one of the lower bunks. Both Cathy and Paula declined, so I picked it as my bed for the night. I sat down, careful to keep both feet on the floor. We still couldn’t lie on the bed. I situated myself at a slight angle so I could keep watch on the front, in case a Warden suddenly appeared. Our room might not be much on creature comforts but I didn’t want to lose it by being too slow to stand up.
Cathy sat down on the other bunk. Paula walked back and forth in the little space we had, working the soreness out of her knees. I watched her, regretting I had, even indirectly, been responsible for her kneeling on that hard tile floor. “So, what do you think of your first day in our little school?” Cathy asked.
That wasn’t an easy question to answer. By one standard we had been treated as little more than animals. Oddly, that particular viewpoint really didn’t seem to fit. If it was so bad, why didn’t it bother me? That raised a lot of questions I didn’t want to think about right now.
“I’ve never experienced anything like this before,” I answered, choosing my words carefully. I hadn’t seen any hidden microphones but there was no doubt in my mind the Wardens listened to our conversations. “In one sense I certainly got what I asked for. Whatever happens now, I can’t walk away.”
Paula stopped her pacing. She smiled as she added, “Isn’t it great? Cathy thinks I’m crazy, but I love being in here. My master often has to go on long trips when he’s consulting at a mine. He puts me in the secure area while he’s gone. I look forward to it.”
Cathy shook her head. “Well, I don’t love it in here. Like Paula, my master put me here, as an instructor for the day. I thought I was going to spend the night in bed with him, not sitting in here. If only I had….” She trailed off, remembering the order not to discuss the incident.
I sympathized with Cathy, but Paula’s offhand comment was more intriguing. “Paula, if you don’t mind, could I ask why you like being here so much?” This place was hardly a resort. My rating would be minus four stars on a good day, one star above a North Korean prison camp.
She sat down next to me. “You see the harsh conditions, the domineering Wardens, the way we are treated? I see the same thing, but none of it bothers me in the slightest. I know, and I mean this, I’m at my very best when I’m closely supervised. I don’t have any problems following orders, no matter how strict or difficult they may be. If I’m forced to obey, even better. And I know if I slack off, if I don’t deliver, even the tiniest of mistakes, one of those Wardens will be there to remind me. I don’t want to be punished, I’m not a masochist, but the implied threat is the edge that makes it so exciting. I’m not perfect, you saw that today. It doesn’t stop me from trying.”
I could see how Paula earned her reputation as an extremist. I’d never met anyone like her before. I began to understand why she enjoyed being in the secure area. If she really meant what she told me then this place might just be her idea of a vacation.
“There’s another reason I like being on the secure side,” Paula continued. “Big Mike, my master, he has a very tough, dangerous job. I don’t want to be a distraction when he’s out in the field. He doesn’t have to worry about me while I’m in here. When he’s deep underground in one of those mine galleries, positioning the shoring or checking a vein before calling in the drills, a mistake can injure or kill an entire crew. He needs to focus one hundred percent on what he’s doing, not worrying about me. So here I am, as safe as can be.”
It wasn’t until much later I found out Paula held the record for time spent in the secure area. When Big Mike had been taken hostage by Shining Path guerillas at a mine in Bolivia it had taken over a year to negotiate his release. Paula had been kept in the secure area for the entire time.
“Lenora, what worries you about being here?” Cathy asked that one. “You seem to be preoccupied with something. Is it the fact you can’t leave?”
I hesitated, embarrassed to bring up the subject. How could I put words to it? The evening was upon us, along with nighttime activities. I had to hold my hands together to keep them from shaking. “No, not being held prisoner. Well, it does bother me, but that’s not it. This thing between our legs,” I tapped on the oval chastity belt shield, “when a Warden comes for one of us, opens this belt; I’m scared I won’t be able to please him.” I felt my face turn red.
Paula put her hand over mine. “You can relax if that’s what’s getting to you. You aren’t going to be raped. You’re right that the belt doesn’t keep a Warden out; naturally they have the keys. The belt has a different purpose, to keep us in. Yeah, we can’t even have sex without permission. Far from being assaulted they won’t open you up no matter how much you beg for it.”
That was a relief but the part about begging them to open the belt bothered me. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew at least one reason men liked to control us was the easy access to sex. I admit I had a lot of fun that way too. Stripped and bound, helpless while he took full advantage of me, I enjoyed it just as much as he did. Tied spread-eagled on the bed, open and vulnerable, unable to move while he ran his hands over me; those were fond memories. That didn’t mean I expected to be available for anyone to use. The moment my clothes came off, and I saw that belt I had resigned myself to what might happen later.
Cathy added some more on the subject. “You have to remember, you are the personal property of your master. Think of it as proprietary rights. They don’t like to share. That also means if you start getting that warm feeling for a Warden, well, it ain’t gonna happen. You come on to him and you’ll find yourself spending the night on the floor neatly bundled in a hogtie. Trust me, one night trussed up on a cold concrete floor and you’ll never repeat that mistake.”
I knew what hogtie bondage was from firsthand experience. One time I’d been put in one using rope, hands behind my back and tied to my ankles, with my knees also tied together. Bend my legs to relieve my arms, until the legs got sore. Bend my back to relieve my legs, until the back muscles were on fire. Or the third alternative, getting my arms pulled out of my shoulders. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to spend all night like that. I lasted about fifteen minutes before I was desperately begging to be released.
Knowing I wouldn’t be some stranger’s sex toy for the night was a relief. That did bring up other questions, like why I was singled out to be lured to the Center. If the men here could easily seize anyone off the street as they did to Laura then they could choose from plenty of women who were younger and more attractive than me. I posed that question to Cathy and Paula.
“I can’t give you a definitive answer,” Paula told me. “I do know, at least for the men here, it isn’t about cheerleaders and supermodels. They look for other qualities. Obviously they want submissive women, but they also look for loyalty, a single-minded dedication to our masters, that need in us to be pleasing. I suppose you’d call it the personality of a deeply submissive woman. The degree may vary but that’s what you’ll find in common for all of us in here.”
I didn’t have an opportunity to dig deeper into why they thought I had been brought here. The lights dimmed, which put an end to any further discussion. I climbed under the blanket and pulled it up to my neck. I had survived the first day without being beaten, raped or tortured. How many more days would I be trapped in this place? Wrapping my arms around the pillow I fell into an exhausted sleep.
The Next Day
I woke up to the sound of a loud buzzer. When I opened my eye the lights were up. Paula was climbing down from the bunk above mine, and Cathy was already sitting up. For a moment I was disoriented until I remembered where I was. I quickly threw aside the blanket and sat up too. Our feet had to be on the floor; no staying in bed once it was time to get up.
“The Wardens will be here shortly, so we have to be ready.” That was from Paula. “Make your bed first. It’ll be checked so watch for wrinkles. Once you’re done go to the back wall. When you hear the outer door open you should stand in position facing forward.” She and Cathy were already straightening their bedding.
I didn’t want to get up but I could see from how fast they were working that I didn’t have much time. Reluctantly I got out of bed.
Cathy looked worried. I found out why when she told me, “I don’t mean to criticize but you’re running out of time. We are all subject to punishment if the Wardens aren’t satisfied with how the beds are made. I really don’t want to sleep on the floor for the next two weeks. You might want to move a little faster.”
Still half asleep I got to work. I didn’t care for sleeping on the floor either. Much as I wanted to lie back down and sleep for a few more hours I knew it wasn’t to be. I started on my bed, making sure everything was tucked in, straight and tidy.
I was in position at the back wall when the Wardens showed up. Cathy was right though, I barely made it in time. Both of them looked over my bed to make sure it would pass. The moment they finished the sound of the outer door opening sent all of us scrambling to be in position before the Wardens reached our cell. I’d have to do better next time.
There were two Wardens. They took us out of our cell one at a time, put us in chains and turned us to face the wall. The three of us were also hooked together with one of the gang chains. Cathy was right about the bed too. After they turned us around to leave we still had to wait while one of the Wardens went to each bed to make sure it was neatly made. I didn’t miss the point that the check was done when we could see it, rather than while we faced the wall. It was one more not so subtle reminder the Wardens wouldn’t let any of us get away with laziness.
The beds must have passed inspection because we were taken to the showers to clean up. The chains and the belts came off but we weren’t left alone. I could see the showers but first we had to clean our belts until they shined. With Paula’s help I managed to win approval from the Warden reviewing our work. It took two tries before I was given permission to take a shower.
A glass partition separated our showers from where the Wardens sat, watching us. At first I was self-conscious about taking a shower but it didn’t seem to bother any of the other women. I told myself there wasn’t anything I could do about it, so I turned my back to the Wardens and switched on the hot water.
I looked back over my shoulder at the audience. There were four of them, but only two seemed to be paying any attention to us. Maybe we weren’t just putting on a show for them after all. It occurred to me that if they sat through this every day it might be boring after a while. With that in mind I wasn’t quite so preoccupied. The hot water felt good and left me relaxed.
Another day was starting for me in the Center. Could it get much worse? I had to adapt to a vastly different way of life now, a way without any freedom other than the choice of obedience or punishment. I thought about the way Laura had been forcibly taken away by the Wardens. After her performance I had no doubt she was being punished. Whatever her fate I doubted it included a hot, soothing shower before breakfast. I didn’t want the same thing to happen to me.
I finished, dried off and combed my hair. We had to line up with our hands behind our heads, displaying ourselves, while another Warden walked around us. We failed the first time; two women had to comb their hair again. We all had to wait, still standing in display position, until they finished. Satisfied we were presentable the Wardens put our belts back on, one at a time. That was followed by handcuffs behind our backs, and leg irons on our ankles.
Once the group was ready we were hooked together with a gang chain before two Wardens took us to the dining room. We followed the same procedure, one at a time we were led to a table after picking up a food tray. This time there were three other women I didn’t know seated with me.
After eating we were taken to a classroom. We had to kneel, in position but with our legs together. Fortunately there were cushions so we didn’t have to suffer on the hard floor. Once we were all in place a Warden brought in the instructor and took her to the front of the room.
The Warden with her began, “You will give the instructor your undivided attention. She is required to report anyone who breaks position, speaks out of turn, is inattentive or otherwise demonstrates an uncooperative attitude. While in this class you will do whatever she says.” He freed the instructor’s hands and left.
“Good morning. My name is Greta. Today I’m going to explain some of the reasons behind the regulations in the Center. If you understand the why perhaps it will be easier for you to see the need to obey all the rules here, and earn your eventual release.”
That did get my attention. I wanted to know all about anything that would get me out of this place.
She started with a question that applied to me. “Why are you here? Why you, and not someone else?” In bed last night that very question came to me. Why had I been singled out for a trip to what amounted to a maximum security prison? “There’s no one particular reason, other than a man decided to put you in here. Why did he choose you? He’s the only one who knows the answer.
“And that begs the next question, what right does he have to do that?” She paused, walking back and forth in front of us. “You won’t like the answer to that one. It’s because he can, and there’s nothing you can do to prevent it.” She held up a hand. “Yeah, I’ve heard it many times before. Might doesn’t make right. Except in your case it does, for those of you who were forced to come here.” Was I forced? Tricked maybe, but was that the same thing? I’d have to say yes, since I couldn’t leave.
Once again I heard the same explanation, some man, who I didn’t know, had me brought to the Center. If I knew who he was, why he had done this to me, perhaps it would make some sense. If I could talk to him, find out why he’d chosen me, maybe then I’d have a chance to persuade him to let me go. At the very least I might find out what he wanted.
The instructor continued, “It may not be much of a consolation, but I can give you one explanation as to why you were chosen. All of you share something in common. In the real world, out there,” she waved an arm, “you all show submissive tendencies. You like strong, assertive men. You want them to lead, to make the decisions, especially the hard ones. Even if you don’t admit it, you depend on them. You have a need to please them, to do whatever they want, to compromise rather than argue.” That was true enough. Even now I found I couldn’t help but obey the Wardens. Maybe it was partly out of fear, but I also felt that need within me to earn their approval.
“Now we get to why the Center appears to be such a harsh environment. There are no limits placed on the men here. Think of it as unrestricted male domination matched to female submission. You are free of any outside influences telling you to ignore your instincts and emotions. At the moment it may not seem like good fortune but you have a rare opportunity to explore what it would be like if you let go of all your inhibitions holding you back. Think about it.” She paused.
Being locked up in a remote jail wasn’t my idea of opportunity knocking on the door. I understood her point though. After only one day I could feel how I was slipping into that submissive mindset.
“I’m sure you see this place as some sort of prison. The cells, the chains, your clothes taken away, the guards telling you what to do, the constant threat of punishment, what could be worse? There is a purpose behind all of it, and not what you think.
“Let’s start with the clothes. I know for me it was the single worst part of being in the secure area. Even now it’s difficult to make the transition, although I do it several times a week. Why are they taken away? I doubt if the Wardens object, but it’s not so they can stare at us.” Everyone laughed at that. I wondered about it myself.
“The first reason is the immediate effect it has on us. We have to bare all to men we don’t even know. We become sex objects, forced to display ourselves for the enjoyment of the Wardens.” That was my first reaction, but it wasn’t turning out like I expected even after only one day. The Wardens were too businesslike, almost disinterested. I didn’t see those lingering stares, nor did they grab hold in an overt way.
“You’re not here to be a sex slave. They take away our clothes so we learn to be comfortable in nothing more than our skin. As a man’s property he can order you to strip at any time. You have to be ready to do just that, without hesitation. All your life you’ve been taught to cover yourself. Your stay here will break down that inhibition. It will become easier; just give it time. Remember the rule: you must not conceal yourself from the Wardens. Don’t ever hold up your arms to cover your breasts. I can guarantee you will be disciplined for it.”
There weren’t all that many opportunities to break that particular rule. With my wrists cuffed behind my back it wasn’t even possible. I suppose that was one more technique the Wardens used to condition us to nudity.
The instructor started a new topic. “Why are the Wardens so strict? One reason is to teach us self-discipline. No matter what occurs here in the end it comes down to you as individuals. Are you really willing to hand your life over to a man, to let him make the decisions? I’m not talking about playing some game. I mean a real commitment, to accept the good and the bad, to obey him whether or not you agree. Even if you are furious with him, so angry you want to beat his head in with a frying pan, can you still kneel before him, accept his commands, and do your best to please him?”
That was a tough question. I wanted to say yes, but my own failed history at relationships didn’t back up that answer. And that led me back to the reason I agreed to come here in the first place. Could it make a real difference, being in the Center, without the freedom to say no?
“Right now you have the opportunity to find out if you can make that commitment.” I turned my attention back to what the instructor was saying. “If you can adapt to life in here, truly allow someone else to run your life, then you have your answer.”
The class ended soon after that. I left with a new perspective on why I was here. From the way she explained it the conditions, though unpleasant, were not intended to be brutal or punitive. It was life at the edge, no pretense, where I had no choice but to confront who I was.
The Interview
I’d been in the Center now for weeks at least, maybe a month. There was an old truism, something about doing anything long enough you eventually get used to it. That was happening to me. Obedience became a habit, an automatic reaction whenever a Warden ordered me to do something. I knew when to stand, when to sit, when not to speak, and of course when to face the wall. So when I was pulled out of the dining room one day, by myself, I didn’t know what to expect but I did as I was told.
The Warden brought me to an abrupt halt in front of an unmarked door. Not that it was special since there were only two kinds of doors in the Center. It was either a one piece metal door or a barred gate, but for either one a key was required to open it. We weren’t allowed to open or close doors, only a Warden could do that.
He turned me to face the wall next to the door but he didn’t open it immediately. I was already nervous, since there was no group with me. As usual I had no idea what was happening but it couldn’t be good if I was being singled out. I flashed back to that first day when the Wardens had hauled off Laura after her tirade. I hadn’t seen her after the incident, but since we were forbidden to discuss it I couldn’t ask if anyone else knew about her. Now here I was, separated from the others.
It would be easy for me to vanish too. The Wardens often mixed us up in groups so we never knew if someone was gone or just moved to a different group. I hadn’t seen Cathy since the first night, but I passed Paula once in the dining room. We weren’t at the same table so we couldn’t talk.
“When you enter you will see a table with a computer monitor on it. You will stand in front of the table and wait for further instructions when they appear on the display. Do not speak until given permission. Do you understand?” As usual the Warden delivered his instructions with no emotion in his tone of voice. Orders were a simple statement of fact, which made sense since whatever they wanted they got.
“Yes, sir,” was all I could say. Not being allowed to speak I was limited to direct replies to his questions, keeping my answers as brief as possible. He opened the door and took my arm to lead me into the room. Inside I saw the table and display he had described. Off to the right was a chair, and on the left I just made out a plain door. A quick glance was all I could risk. I knew the rules, look straight ahead. The far wall had a large window into a darkened room. The window was tinted so I couldn’t make out what was in there.
Behind me the Warden removed the handcuffs from my wrists. I still hated those things. I understood why the Wardens used them though. When I wore the cuffs I had little use of my hands or arms. The hinged version is far more restrictive compared to the chain link handcuffs I was familiar with. I was helpless with them on, which is exactly what they wanted.
I really wanted to rub my wrists but I knew better. I kept my arms straight down at my side. “Stand there,” he ordered. Following instructions I went to the table. The display was blank, no commands yet. The door closed behind me. I didn’t turn around but I was sure I was alone.
I thought about pulling the chair over and sitting down. A little voice whispering in my head told me that would be a mistake. If it isn’t allowed, it’s forbidden, and I definitely had not been given permission to sit. This place was getting inside my head. It was obvious we were being subjected to behavior modification techniques. Knowing it was happening to me didn’t make it any less effective.
Words began to appear on the screen. They were large enough that I could read them from where I stood. The contents were unexpected.
You passed the first test. You did not sit in the chair. That was the correct response.
This will be a private interview. It is not being recorded or monitored. What you say here will not be repeated to anyone else.
I gave thanks for my little voice. I felt rather pleased that I had figured out the right answer, even though I didn’t know it was a test. I wasn’t sure what to make of a private interview, but it was a relief that I wasn’t going to face some kind of terrible punishment.
There was someone on the other side of the window. I could make out a silhouette but no features. It must be my mysterious interviewer.
For reasons which must be withheld I will remain anonymous. I will ask questions; you will answer in detail. There is no time limit, so you may take as long as you need to reply, but stay on point. If you later remember something you wish to add to a previous response you may ask for permission to return to a prior subject. You will answer every question. It is in your best interest to reply honestly. If I discover you were misleading or deceitful you will be held to account.
That last part didn’t sound too pleasant; the rest was simple enough. Naturally I was curious as to who was typing, and why he must remain anonymous. I knew it had to be a man, most likely a Warden since he was writing in that same matter of fact, ‘you will do this’ tone.
You may sit in the chair. Place it directly in front of the monitor.
I waited a moment to see if there were any more commands. None appeared, so I reached for the chair, moved it over and sat down. It was on casters so I rolled it up to the table. I sat up straight, legs together, hands in my lap. I still had the leg irons on so I had to keep my ankles slightly apart.
In class we had been warned never to cross our legs, or even our ankles, when sitting. Both feet had to be on the floor at all times. That was a basic rule, along with keeping our breasts exposed. Any attempt to cover up by holding our arms across our chests was a major infraction and punished accordingly. The chain between my ankles was too short for me to easily cross my legs anyway.
This will be a lengthy session. You may relax. There is a toilet on your left. You may ask permission to use it at any time. You are allowed to speak freely but respectfully when answering. You will address me only as ‘sir’.
I guess I’m getting used to sitting the approved way. I had permission to relax, whatever that meant. I decided to remain where I was. It wasn’t uncomfortable, sitting in position. The Wardens must like it too, since they insisted on it.
I was sure he was a Warden now. He liked to use that “p-word”, permission. It was plain to me from the first day the Wardens were men who liked to be in control of women like me. No surprise those were the type of men recruited to be the Wardens here.
We will start with this question. If you were given the opportunity, would you choose to leave the Center today? Explain the reasons for your answer.
He didn’t bother with softball warm up questions. I had quickly come to the conclusion there was no possible way for me to escape. Resigned to the fact I was a prisoner here I hadn’t given leaving much thought after the first few days. Did I want to go? I thought I’d better start talking before he became impatient with me.
“Sir, I don’t have a definite answer to your question. I wish the conditions here were better, but I’m not suffering. The uncertainty is what I struggle with. I don’t know what will happen to me.
“I came here believing what I wanted was to have that last bit of freedom taken from me. No backing out, as I said. The Center has delivered in that respect. I can feel myself slipping into a mindset where I can let go, accept that someone else runs my life now. The obedience, the dependency, it’s very difficult to fight it. I’m not certain I even want to resist.
“I think what I miss most is stability. As it stands I don’t even know what I’ll be doing an hour from now. I may find that feeling of security here eventually. I do know I couldn’t find it on my own, outside the Center.
“The first few days in here I was terrified. Please understand, sir, I find myself in a prison and have no idea if I will ever be released. I was stripped, chained, locked in a jail cell, forced to obey men I didn’t know.
“Since then I’ve come to learn they don’t intend to harm me, as long as I don’t challenge their authority. I have no choice but to trust them. I hope they act in my best interests. To date I’ve had no reason to question that trust. So no, sir, I would not leave.”
Once the words started they seemed to pour out. I hadn’t intended to talk so much. Maybe it was being alone, without anyone, except that figure behind the window, listening in.
Did I really want to stay here? At the start it would have been an easy answer, an emphatic no. The place was growing on me though. Once I learned what the Wardens wanted from me, and how I was expected to behave, I had no problems adapting to my new life. I’d never go as far as Paula, this wasn’t my idea of heaven on earth, but I had to face the reality that I wasn’t bothered by what others would see as horrific living conditions. I wasn’t happy, but I wasn’t miserable either.
Excellent, I am impressed by your insightful and articulate answer. You are an exceptional woman.
In regards to your comments, I ask that you be patient. I will not explain further. You have my assurance you will not leave the Center at this time.
The next question, does it bother you being forced to wear the chains, the collar, or the chastity belt?
When I read the first line I felt so good I wanted to dance around. Exceptional, articulate, impressed! The new question was an easy one. “No sir, I would not say it bothered me. If given a choice of course I’d take them off, but I understand the necessity of being restrained to maintain overall security. I’ve noticed the number of Wardens is very small compared to the women here. The handcuffs, the leg chains are there to ensure the Wardens have the necessary physical advantage over us at all times, especially when we are in a group.
“If I might add, sir, I’m well aware that men, the ones in charge of us in particular, like to see us in those chains. Every submissive woman knows when she is helpless it makes her very attractive to the man who has her in his power.
“As for the belt, well sir, using the toilet is a time consuming task. This thing reminds me in all sorts of little ways I have it on. When I bend over the belt digs into my waist. I can feel it press against me constantly. Regardless of all the problems, I do understand it must be important for us to wear it. If I were given a choice I would continue to wear the belt until told otherwise.
“It’s an odd feeling, knowing someone else has sexual control over me. It’s scary, but exciting too. And it fits in with being a man’s property.
“One more thing, sir, I confess it’s much easier to wear this belt knowing I can’t remove it. If I had the key I don’t think I would have the willpower to keep it on all day. Same with the collar, I don’t think about wearing it because I can’t take it off.”
It was the collar that drove my thoughts at night, not the belt. I put the belt in the same category as wearing a short dress and high heels, a lot of work but generally worth the effort. The collar was something else. It didn’t restrict me like the belt did, at least physically.
“The collar doesn’t interfere in a physical way at all, sir.” I reached up to touch it. “It does have a mental effect. Every time I see it on me, in a reflection, it’s a reminder of the fact I’m owned. Not just me but everyone else here sees I’m a man’s possession. In all the times when I’ve been bound in some way, even though under a man’s control, I’ve never felt like that. I’m not sure how to explain it. I have this compulsion to please my mysterious master, as if it were my reason for living.”
There was no immediate response on the display. Had I said something disrespectful? Was he sending for the Wardens? What had I done wrong?
You have given me much to think about. Your frank answers provide the insight I need.
I can tell you our next interview will deal with the collar in more detail. No more discussion on that subject today. You should know that, although there are practical reasons for the belt, it also has superb aesthetic qualities.
And you are correct that we do like our women helpless. You in particular are quite attractive when fully restrained.
Aesthetic qualities? In other words we had to wear those belts, and go through all the hassles, because they liked the way it looked. The fact it was appreciated did make it easier to tolerate that thing locked between my legs. I never understood why men found it attractive to see us dressed in steel, even though the stares confirmed it was true. I suspect those inspections by Wardens are often for their enjoyment more than looking for mistakes on our part.
Do you miss your freedom? Do you feel some resentment that you can no longer do as you please?
That question went to the heart of the matter. It should be an easy one to answer; of course I wanted my freedom. Except it wasn’t that simple. It took a moment before I could reply.
“I think about that question every night, sir. At first I would have said yes. Now that I’ve had time to adjust I can’t give a definitive answer. I admit I accepted the offer knowing I would lose some control over my life. What I didn’t expect was to lose it all. My only freedom, if you can call it that, is to choose to obey or be punished if I fail to do as I’m told. I’ve never experienced being dominated, no, make that subjugated to the extent I now live with every day.
“I find I don’t resent losing my freedom, sir. It does worry me that I feel compelled to do my best to encourage more of the same. I can’t explain why. I should be defiant, protesting how I’m treated, demanding my release. Instead I’m eager to follow every rule, to prove I am obedient in how I react to a Warden’s commands.” I stopped, unsure what to add. My feelings about being in here were difficult to sort out. So much had happened, so quickly, I was left dazed by it all.
It is natural for you to be confused. You are in the process of learning that how you have been taught to behave is at odds with your true feelings. Trust your instincts. You are well along the path to the happiness you seek, the life that has eluded you in the past.
This will be the end of the session for today. Stand up, return the chair to its original place and stand in front of the monitor when you finish.
I stood up and went behind the chair. It had to go back to where it was when I came in; his instructions were very specific on that. The floor was carpeted, fortunate for me since I could still see faint marks where the chair had been. I had to maneuver it around to get the casters to line up. I went back to the monitor. “Sir, is there anything else you require?”
One last item, you will not discuss the interview today with anyone. That includes Wardens. If someone asks, you will reply that your master has forbidden any discussion. As your owner my direct orders supersede those of anyone else in the Center. Remain where you are, facing forward, until someone comes for you. You do not have permission to speak.
I stared at the words on the screen. “Your master” and “your owner” leapt out. I so desperately wanted to ask more questions, but that wasn’t going to happen. This was the man behind my collar. That explained all those questions about how I was adjusting to life at the Center.
I watched the shadowy figure behind the glass stand up and walk away. He was gone, and I was left in shock, staring at the casual announcement from my newfound master. Worst of all, I couldn’t even tell anyone. The words on the monitor suddenly disappeared, leaving no evidence of what had just happened.
Cathy had told me the first day I belonged to someone. I suppose I hadn’t really taken her seriously. All that changed in one moment. He was very real, even if I had no idea who he was.
I stared down at the display. Why type his questions, instead of asking me directly? That puzzled me, until I suddenly figured it out. If he spoke to me I’d recognize his voice! That meant it was someone I knew, or at least met recently. There was a very limited pool of men who fit that description. He had to be a Warden.
The door opened behind me. I almost turned around before remembering I had to stay where I was. “Hands behind your back,” the Warden ordered. I’d heard the command so many times it was second nature now. I was still so bewildered I didn’t even notice when he fastened the cuffs on my wrists. When he took hold of my arm and said, “This way,” I followed but it was like being on autopilot.
That Fateful Night
In my room that night I was reunited with Cathy and Paula. I was surprised to find Cathy still in the secure area. I asked her about it.
“I don’t know why my master chose to leave me here. He told me I wasn’t being punished; and that it was necessary for me to stay here, but he didn’t explain why. That’s all I know. Meanwhile I still teach classes. The rest of the time, here I am.” Despite her casual answer I could tell it bothered her. Even with her master’s reassurance she still believed she was being punished. I thought it best to drop the subject.
Cathy asked what I had been doing, since she hadn’t seen me in class with the new arrivals group. I hesitated, trying to think of what to say. I knew what I had to do, and I couldn’t find any way around it. I looked down at my hands in my lap.
“My master has forbidden any discussion.” I had no choice. He had dictated those exact words.
Paula and Cathy stared at me. “That sounds like a very specific order. The precise wording is the giveaway,” Paula said. She turned to Cathy. “Clearly Lenora can’t talk about it.”
Cathy was still looking at me. “Maybe you can’t discuss your master but that doesn’t stop the two of us. Paula, you’re the expert on interpreting the rules, what do you think?” she asked. I sat on the bed, prohibited from joining in, and that meant I couldn’t even ask them to stop.
Paula thought for a moment. “This would come under third party discussions, or gossip as it is better known. No, I don’t see how her restrictions apply to us. I agree, we can talk about it all day long unless we’re told to stop.” She turned back to me. “Sorry Lenora, you have to sit and listen. Don’t say a word or you’ll be in trouble.” I didn’t like this turn of events at all, even though she was right. I was sure to be reprimanded if I opened my mouth now.
Cathy started, “So what do we know? He’s secretive, but since we’re in the secure area that only narrows it down to every man at the Center. Did you notice?” she said, pointing at me, “He didn’t put his name on her collar.”
Paula added, “And she didn’t know who he was when she first arrived. That must mean he’s been after her before she got here. He proceeds carefully, which means he certainly has backup plans to handle the unexpected. That tells us he is a man who’s determined to get what he wants.”
Paula looked straight at me. “She better be very careful. Men like that have extremely high expectations and very little tolerance when you cross them.” She turned to Cathy. “You know how it is. Better let Lenora in on what’s in her future.” They were talking about me as if I were some inanimate object.
Cathy nodded. “I learned it the hard way. I suppose it’s the risk we run, careful what you wish for because you may get more than you ever imagined. Yes indeed, she better take that lecture on perfection to heart. He isn’t going to be patient or understanding when she acts up or makes mistakes. Now that she’s in here he can do something about it too.”
I was starting to worry again. These women had first-hand experience with the types of dominant men who ran the Center. From what they were saying one of these men had stalked me, tricked me into coming to the Center and now held me captive. More than that, he would be difficult to please, never satisfied unless I was perfect in every way. My initial excitement at finding out he existed was rapidly giving way to dread, that I wouldn’t be able to live up to the woman he wanted.
Paula kept going, “In her favor, she does have a certain natural aptitude. Sure, I bet that’s why he seized her. It sounds exciting, being pursued, manipulated, at every step controlled by him without even knowing it. She’s very lucky, not many women, the ones like us, get to experience that.”
I wasn’t feeling excited or lucky. And what did she mean by ‘natural aptitude’? I saw a loophole. This wasn’t part of the interview today. I could safely discuss it as long as I didn’t mention him. I interrupted with a question of my own, “Just what kind of natural aptitude am I supposed to possess?”
Cathy looked right at me, answering in a serious tone, “You don’t see it? You and Paula, you are two of a kind. No wonder they put you in with her. It’s obvious you are here for the express purpose of developing those same qualities that make Paula so unique. Wow, I just realized there are going to be two of you now.”
Now I was really confused. Even Paula seemed to be unsure about what Cathy was talking about. Did Cathy mean I was another one of those fanatics like Paula? If so I didn’t see the resemblance. I said as much. “Sorry Paula, but I’m not like you. I have a mind of my own. I make my own decisions.”
Cathy shook her head, “No you don’t. I’ve seen you. You have the same obsession with obedience; that same drive to be perfect in every way. Tell me, do you ever think about refusing when a Warden orders you around? Can you break a rule and not report yourself to a Warden? Would you defy your master’s command not to discuss him?”
I couldn’t answer. She had played the trump card. If I said anything I’d violate the order not to talk about the interview. Just a simple yes or no was enough to acknowledge it happened, and I knew that was enough. I could not bring myself to disobey his command.
I could see Cathy knew she’d won the argument. Everything she said was true. Sure, I could make my own decisions, as long as I had permission and I didn’t break any rules. I could ignore the Wardens, or my unseen master. Just like I could grow wings and fly out of here.
I stared down at the floor. In that moment I knew what was missing from all my previous relationships. It wasn’t really stability. No, it was a firm hand to make sure I kept well within the boundaries set for me. That was my version of stability, the certainty of being disciplined if I ever tried to go past those boundaries, those rules that defined my life. Not guidelines I set for myself. They had to be my master’s rules.
A Watchful Eye
He hit the remote to mute the TV audio. Lenora’s struggle to keep quiet during the conversation had to be the high point of his day. Watching her in unguarded moments, the way she reacted without a Warden present, proved to be fascinating. More than ever he was positive now he’d made the right decision in bringing her to the Center.
It had not been easy, arranging for her to be delivered to this place. Seizing women, bringing them here, subjecting them to Center discipline was not a task to be undertaken lightly. These were real people, real lives changed forever as a result. He had agonized for weeks about her, but in the end he was certain it was for the best. Between the private conversation this afternoon and the manner in which she didn’t share with her friends tonight, he had few doubts about his actions.
Accepting the email invitation, effectively tricking her into coming here, was easier than the alternative. The little drama where she was pulled over and arrested by the police would have happened with or without her knowledge. Regardless of what she thought was her decision she would still be in that cell in the secure area tonight, with the collar around her throat marking her as his personal property.
His property, the phrase had a nice sound to it. On the TV screen she was still sitting on her bed, talking to her companions for the night. She knew he existed but little else at this point in time. That was all she needed to know, for now. He could still act as one of her Wardens, without her being aware it was her master locking the belt on in the morning, or releasing her from the handcuffs when she went into the cell at night.
Special Assignment
Right after our lunch, when we were being taken out one by one, I found myself singled out again. We were facing the wall in the corridor outside, as usual, while our group was being assembled. The Warden had just finished with me, locking my wrists behind my back before adding the extra cuff for the gang chain. Hooked together it was very easy for one or two Wardens to control a group of us. I was patiently studying the interesting pattern of cracks in the wall paint when another Warden came up behind us. Although no one said anything, one of the Wardens unlocked the gang cuff from my wrist. I tensed, something must be wrong. What had I done?
“Come with me,” The new Warden took hold of my arm and led me off down the corridor. I had no clue what was happening, but that was the standard operating procedure for Wardens. It took some time to get to wherever we were going. Four times we passed through barred gates. Once I was put up against the wall while someone passed us in a hallway. I could tell from the sound of the chains it was a group of women. For all I knew it might have been my group. I was busy examining the texture of the wall in front of me.
We finally stopped next to a door. As usual I stood facing the wall while he unlocked it. When he took me inside I was surprised to find what looked like a dance school practice room. There was a large mirror on one wall, handrails, and some tables with chairs. Two of the tables had cardboard boxes on top. There was another door on the far wall. Once more I was put against the wall while he closed the door.
Why was I here? I was no ballet dancer. A few lessons in grade school had proved to my parents I had no talent for dancing. The Warden was standing behind me with one hand on my back. He remained silent, declining to explain what my purpose was for the visit here.
I heard the other door open behind me. Someone came in, another woman from the sound of the leg chain on the hardwood floor. The Warden behind me took hold of my handcuffs, unlocking them from my wrists. I didn’t expect it when he knelt down to remove my leg irons. Normally those were left on unless there was a good reason. Not that I objected to my unexpected bit of freedom. Whatever was coming next it was off to a good start.
“Turn around,” he ordered. Released from the wall I turned and saw another woman with a Warden. He was removing her restraints. When she turned around I didn’t recognize her.
“You are here to learn from this instructor. You will follow her orders. There is to be no idle conversation. Discussion must be limited only to your instruction in here. This is a private assignment intended for you alone. You will make a special effort to learn. Failure will be treated as willful disobedience. You are forbidden to discuss it with anyone else. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” I answered. We had been taught, over and over, that willful disobedience was just about the worst crime possible. It was called a crime because it applied to every woman in the Center, even if she wasn’t in the secure area. I hadn’t even known females were allowed outside the secure area until then. If I was to make a “special effort” it meant putting everything I had into it, no matter what.
The other Warden faced his charge and started, “Your assignment has been explained to you. You will do your best to ensure she learns everything. You heard the restrictions, no idle conversation, and no discussion with anyone else. Lessons will be daily until you are satisfied. There is no time limit. When you stop for the day, press the button next to your door to notify us.”
“Yes, sir, I understand.” She was looking at me intently when she answered. The stakes were high for both of us. If she was an instructor then she had more to lose. Failure might well put her in here with the rest of us.
“You may begin after we leave.” Both Wardens went out the door near me.
As soon as the door shut, and we heard the lock, she started. “Okay, you know what we have to do. We have a lot of work ahead. Come over here to the tables.”
I followed her to the tables with the boxes. “Umm, is it okay if I speak?” I didn’t have to ask with a Warden but in this situation I wasn’t sure what rules applied.
She stopped and looked at me. She didn’t answer right away, so I waited. “Yes, you may speak freely, but don’t interrupt me. Sit down there,” she pointed to a chair. I sat down, back straight, head high, hands folded in my lap. She stared at me again.
“Okay, first, how often do you wear heels, out there in the real world?”
That was a strange question. “I wear low heels at work, high heels when out on a date.” We weren’t allowed shoes in here. Why would she ask about them?
She nodded, “Yeah, about what I expected.” She opened the box closest to me. “Now don’t freak out. These should fit you. Don’t put them on until I tell you.” She took out a pair of boots and handed them to me.
At first I didn’t see what the big deal was. They were high enough to come up a couple inches under my knees. There was a zipper on the side. Then I saw the heels. They must have been seven inches high. The boots came down to a point. I’d be standing on my toes if I stood up in them.
“They’re called ballet boots. You can see the resemblance to classic ballet shoes. The insole and tip is reinforced, so some of your weight is still taken up by your arch and heel.” She sat down next to me. “Don’t be intimidated. Let me show you how they work.”
I couldn’t see how even my “best efforts” were going to help me. I might be able to stand, eventually, but I’d never be able to walk with those things on. She took out a similar pair from her box. I watched as she unzipped each boot and slipped her leg inside.
“Make sure you have a tight fit. That’s important. You need the support.” She took hold of the top and pulled each boot up before zipping it shut. I watched in amazement as she stood up and turned to face me.
“See? It is possible. Concentrate on your balance. Don’t make any sudden moves. Avoid any kind of rough surface, like a gravel road, or a floor with some give to it, like a deep carpet.” She walked over to the mirror, turned, and walked back to me. “Keep your steps short. Move slowly. Keep your balance in mind. The purpose of these shoes is to make it very difficult, but not impossible for you to walk. Work with that.”
She sat down next to me. She didn’t take her boots off. “Now you try them on. Don’t attempt to stand up. I want you to get used to the way they hold your feet en pointe. That’s a ballet term. It means to hold your foot in a fully extended position.”
I have to do this, I told myself. I slid one foot into the boot. Copying her I grabbed the top and pulled, hard. My foot went all the way in, bent straight down from my ankle. I pulled up the zipper. The boot was snug against my calf when closed. I put on the other one the same way.
I stretched out my legs to see the results. I felt my toes at the tip. I had to admit they looked very sexy, especially with that giant heel in the back. I tried our required sitting position, legs together, feet on the floor, sit up straight, hands in lap.
Well, my feet were nowhere near the floor. Except for my toes, the tips were touching the ground. My instructor put a hand on my arm. “Very good! Don’t break position. You’ll feel some strain in your calf muscles. That’s normal. In time it will recede, as you practice.”
She stood up again. I envied the way she made it look so easy. She went behind her chair, picked it up and walked around to face me. She was right about slow and close. When she took a step she put one foot in front of the other, like the way models are taught to walk in shows. She sat down again, facing me.
“I want you to sit like that for a while. Hold position, eyes front, do not speak unless I ask you a question.” I straightened up, staring at her in front of me. “My instructions are to first teach you how to stand, and then how to walk. You will learn to do both. Neither of us has a choice in the matter.”
All sorts of questions were rolling around inside my head. Why was I doing this? Who decided I had to learn to walk in these things? And if I did, no, make that when I learned how to walk, would the Wardens make me wear them all the time? I didn’t even want to think about that particular nightmare.
Across from me my instructor was also sitting in position, staring right back at me. The questions would have to wait. Until then I would do my best to learn to walk all over again.
Second Interview
I wasn’t sure how much time passed, maybe two or three weeks, before I was off on another mysterious solo assignment. When the Warden opened the door for me I saw the now familiar table with the monitor and the darkened window in the background. As usual the Warden hadn’t told me where I was going. Before closing the door he spoke up, “You know the rules. Wait for instructions on the screen.” I didn’t have to wait long.
You may sit in the chair. Place it in front of the monitor. You have permission to speak freely.
I pulled the chair over to the table and sat down. This time I was careful to notice where the chair was before moving it. I sat down, in position, hands in my lap.
Tell me of your progress with the ballet boots.
He didn’t waste any time. “Sir, I can now rise from a chair and stand without assistance. Yesterday I was able to walk the length of the handrail in the practice room, on my own without holding on.” I was excited about that short walk. I never thought I’d be able to do it but the instructor’s encouragement kept me going. “Will I be allowed to continue practicing?”
Your lessons will proceed. I am pleased with your progress. I expect you to continue to improve. I am satisfied that you are doing your best.
I remind you these lessons are important. For now I will not explain why. You are learning a special skill, one that will set you apart from other women. You must show me your dedication to this task.
I did put everything I had into meeting the challenge posed by those wretched shoes. My confidence rose as I met each milestone. It all came down to one goal, the day I would get up from the chair, walk all the way across the room, come back, and sit down. Without falling, I had to add that qualification. I was determined to show him I would succeed, no matter the toll on my sore feet.
I never thought of it as a skill but he was right. It was no simple matter to walk in those things. Why I had to learn it was still a mystery but now that I saw real progress I looked forward to the lessons.
Given what you know about the Center, would you still have accepted the offer to come here?
It was close to his question from the last interview but not quite the same. I was still uncertain about this place. “I do like certain aspects of the program here, sir. However, on balance I believe I would have declined.” He wanted honesty; I didn’t hold back. “The major problem I have is not being allowed to leave. I do have to add, sir, I would not have come here if I had known of the restrictions.
But since I am here I might add, sir, I would regret not knowing if I could earn my release.” Which was the truth; other women made it through the experience. If they did it then so could I.
Whether or not you accepted you would still be here at the Center today. The only difference is you would have been seized instead of being allowed to come voluntarily.
I will see to it you earn your release. For the rest of your life you will be proud you made it through Center training. Other women will envy you for your accomplishment.
I stared at the screen. Seized? I held my hands together to keep from shaking. I had to know what he meant. “Sir, may I ask if you can explain your last remark, about being taken? I’m not certain I understand.” I wasn’t sure if I could get away with asking a question like that. However, he did give me permission to speak freely, so I took a chance.
You recall your arrest by the police? You were told it was staged as part of the offer. In fact it had been arranged before you even received the email offer. If you had not accepted, or had not shown up, the police would still have come for you. Fortunately events worked out to ease your transition.
I am convinced the Center is the best place for you at this point in your life. When I decided I would own you I took all necessary steps to ensure you would be mine, one way or another. From that point on your arrival here was inevitable.
I couldn’t believe what I was reading. The offer was a sham. I never had a choice. This man had stalked me, manipulated me into coming here, trapping me for what purpose I still didn’t know. No, that wasn’t quite right. I did know it was for my own good, according to him.
I am aware this news will shock you. Your first reaction will be anger, to lash out at being forced to come here. You resent being tricked into choices you now regret.
Before you go further, think about this. As your master I get your evaluation reports prepared by the staff for the secure area. In every respect you have an exemplary record. You have never been seriously punished. You have not received a single reprimand or warning after the first week. You excel at every task set for you. When given an order you surpass all requirements. You learn quickly, applying what you learn to new situations. By any measure you are thriving in this environment. If I made the wrong decision in bringing you here, how do you explain the obvious fact you are doing so well?
My burst of anger drained away. He had asked another difficult question. Perhaps I had been tricked into coming here, but there was no denying his argument. I had to admit where others struggled to adapt to the secure area it came naturally to me. I could live without the harsh conditions but in most other respects life in the Center wasn’t that bad. Once I understood the rules I had no difficulties staying within my boundaries.
In the classes I saw other women make what I thought were clumsy mistakes. Why didn’t they see the obvious? Why did they test the rules, try to find ways around them? The Wardens might be strangers, but they were still the men in charge of us. It was our duty to obey, there was nothing complicated about it.
I looked at the screen, struggling to find an answer to his question. “Sir, I’m sure you are aware I have always identified as a submissive female. I look for a man who will acknowledge my lifestyle and act accordingly. But no man has ever proven to me he can take on that responsibility. I see where he falters, where he asks instead of demands, where he is accommodating when he should be uncompromising. I try to explain that I have a place; it’s where I belong but I need to be reminded. It is his job to keep me there. Either he won’t or he can’t.
“In here the men do understand me. I am ordered, not asked politely. My freedom has been taken away, replaced by rules that govern everything I say or do. That’s my place. If I am doing well it’s because I’m where I should be, whether I like it or not.”
I was coming full circle. Unintentionally I had justified his action in seizing me. He was right; it was for my own good, much as I hated to admit it.
“Sir, it frightens me, the idea that a man I don’t even know can kidnap me and hold me prisoner. I know nothing about him, whether he will treat me well or torture me to death. Part of me wants just that, to be forced to serve an unyielding, inflexible master who demands all that I have and more. Another part of me is terrified at how vulnerable, how helpless I am because of that need for a strong hand.” I stopped, unsure of what else to say.
Your fears are justified. But consider this, the Center exists to provide you with the assurances you will not be a victim of some psychotic monster. This is an institution with checks and balances, even though you don’t see them. The dangerous ones are weeded out long before they ever get here.
We will end the session now. Return the chair to its original place. You will assume a standing position in front of this display. A Warden will come for you.
Defining Moment
We stood outside a door, waiting, as usual spending quality time examining how well the walls were built. Finally the door opened and we were taken inside. Unlike regular classrooms, where we had to kneel on cushions, this time chairs were laid out in rows. Another group was already seated in the front. A woman was standing at the front, face to the wall, a Warden close by her.
The Wardens placed us behind the first group. Like us they were sitting in position, staring at the front of the room. Our classes were always in small groups. It was unusual for so many of us to be in one place at the same time.
We had to hold position so I couldn’t turn around but I’m sure I heard another group being seated behind us. This was definitely something new, but I couldn’t figure out what it might be.
The Warden at the front began, “Everyone, your attention. This will be a lecture. You will remain seated during the presentation but you may relax and break position, except you will not look behind you. Do not speak unless given permission. I think you will find the instructor entertaining.” He took hold of the woman next to him and turned her around. I didn’t recognize her. He whispered something to her before walking off. Surprisingly he didn’t free her hands.
She didn’t start immediately. I saw the Warden pass by us, going to the back of the room. She must be waiting for him.
“Okay, we can start. My name is Ruth, and I’ll be the instructor for this session.” She paused for a moment, looking at us. “I’m going to talk about attitude today. No, not the usual clichés about obeying our master; you’ve heard all that before. I’m going to talk about how we see ourselves, and how others can define us if we aren’t careful.”
It sounded like an unusual topic. Most of our classes stressed the rules on how we should behave. This one promised to be different.
“A while back my master, who conveniently happens to be my husband, and I were at the supermarket for the weekly grocery run. We’re doing our shopping, and of course I’m discreetly asking for his approval when I see something I’d like to add to the cart. Out in public I’m very careful not to intrude on others, but habits are hard to break, like asking permission. Anyway, someone must have heard me.
“In the checkout line there’s this woman behind us. She keeps staring at me, and I can’t figure out why. I don’t wear a collar in public, and I’m sure my chastity belt doesn’t show under my skirt. Well, I didn’t pay too much attention to her. You meet all kinds in the supermarket.
“We go through the checkout lane. My husband’s putting the bags in the cart while I stand there, watching. The cashier finishes, tells me the total. Thing is, when I’m out with my master I usually leave my purse in the car, and I’m not allowed to wear clothes with pockets. One of my master’s control freak type guilty pleasures is that I have to depend on him for money when we’re out together. So my husband comes around the cart to pay the bill. That woman who kept staring at me is behind us, and now she’s frowning at me in disapproval. Again, I ignore it. We head out to the parking lot.
“Hubby doesn’t let me load or unload groceries. He says that’s heavy lifting work, his job. Who am I to argue with master’s orders? I can’t get in the car until he opens my door, so I’m standing there, watching him. You know that rule, no opening or closing doors on your own. He finishes and starts to push the shopping cart over to one of those parking lot corrals.
“So while I’m waiting this woman who was behind me in the checkout line comes up to me and hands me a card. I look at it, seems she is some kind of counselor at a battered women’s shelter. I have a premonition something bad is about to happen.
“There’s a safe place for you, she tells me. You don’t have to put up with the abuse, she assures me. He’ll never hit you again, I’m promised. I don’t know what to say. Problem is, I had no idea I was a battered, abused wife. Why hadn’t my master told me this? So I told her if my husband allowed it I would look at her website.”
All of us laughed. It was a common mistake, assuming because we were submissive we must be abused. I’d come across social workers who thought they had a mission to rescue women like me from a life of misery and degradation. I suppose being tied to a bed while a man enjoys my body could be considered degrading, but I still have a lot of fun. I wasn’t sure what qualified as misery.
“I know, I might have overdone it with that last part. It was her turn to be speechless. Meanwhile my husband comes back to open the car door for me. He sees this woman and looks a question at me.
“By rights I should have been punished for it but I couldn’t help myself. Sir, I ask him, may I have permission to be rescued by this woman? She is certain you are abusing me.”
I’m cracking up. I wouldn’t have been brave enough to say something like that.
“So master looks at me, looks at the woman, looks back at me. He folds his arms, leans back against the car and proceeds to ask me if I’m not getting enough abuse. Then he launches into this tale of woe about long work hours, how he tries to beat me at least once a day but sometimes he’s just too tired by the time he gets home. He promises to do better. He’ll keep me chained to the wall in the basement at least three days a week. Then he starts on who will cook his dinner and wash his clothes if I’m stuck in the basement?
“I tell him that no, sir, I’m not getting enough beatings and if the best he can do is three days then I’m going to the shelter, if it’s okay with him. But only if he agrees, since a good wife must obey her husband.
“This woman meanwhile looks like she’s about to have a heart attack. Then I ask her, don’t you agree a husband should be required to beat his wife every day? How else can he keep her in line?”
“At that point the woman loses it. She starts yelling at my husband, calling him a misogynistic Neanderthal caveman. Then she turns on me, calls me weak because I enable him to treat me that way. I’m at a loss but master comes to the rescue. He calmly informs her we have been happily married for years, we both believe in a traditional marriage, and we do not answer to politically correct social justice warriors.
“That’s when I realize we’ve drawn a crowd. People started clapping! This woman stomps off to her car, finally leaving me alone. Oh, in case you are curious, yes he does have a place in the basement where he can chain me to the wall, but it’s only used for, umm, special occasions. And I wouldn’t mind at all if there were at least three of those occasions per week.”
Her story was hilarious. Everyone was laughing, including me.
She continued, “The point behind the story is, don’t let someone else define who you are. Well, except for your master, but that’s his job. We are a minority in the outside world, and that requires some pragmatic decisions. No collars, no chains,” she held out her arms, still cuffed behind her back, “and no overt displays of submission. We don’t need to antagonize people who don’t agree with what we believe and the way we live.”
“But don’t let people like that woman intimidate you either. I was fortunate; my master was with me and easily handled the confrontation. Being submissive we have exceptional social skills, but arguing and shouting isn’t among them. Don’t be tempted, like I was, to poke the hornet’s nest with a stick to see if anyone’s home. Your first reaction may be a defensive attitude, to explain or strike back. Resist the temptation.
“That’s where you need to adjust your attitude. You won’t ever change the minds of people like that, so don’t try. All you do is irritate them. And while that may seem like a good idea it really doesn’t accomplish anything. Ignoring them is what they really hate, treating them as if they were irrelevant. Remind yourself that you only answer to your master, no one else.
“That’s the other part of my theme for this lecture. We are one half of a whole, two parts that are made to fit together. The buzzword today is gender equality, no differences between the sexes. Well, we have our own version of that, gender synergy. We have our strengths, men have theirs. Instead of competing we choose to merge those two strengths together, a synergy greater than the sum of its parts.”
I had never thought about it that way, but it made sense.
“My own background is what you might call traditional Judaism. We have a very strict set of rules called halakhah, or Jewish law. It won’t come as a surprise there are rules just for women. We have to cover our hair in public, just like good Muslim women, but we have more choices in how it’s done. Some wear a wig, yeah that counts, or for the rest of us a tischa, a scarf, is sufficient. My husband lets me use a scarf. I’m only allowed a skirt, and it has to be below the knee. Same for my arms, the sleeves on my blouse have to cover my elbows. That’s about the same as liberal Muslim countries, like Indonesia. I think it might have been the reason I was targeted by that woman.
“Anyway, we believe women and men each have specific roles. Both are equally important, but a woman’s role is more equal.” That got some laughs. “You can only be born Jewish if your mother is Jewish. Fathers don’t count. Even better, we are exempt from many of the religious laws. If you’re a man, tough luck.
“But what I really want to talk about is what we call shalom bayit, literally ‘peace of the home’ in Hebrew. The highest praise is for the woman who fulfils the wishes of her husband, and in return the husband is expected to love and honor her more than he honors himself. This is the synergy I mentioned, where each of us helps the other to live in harmony, combining our roles into something greater than each of us alone.
“That’s how I like to think of myself. I do honor his wishes in my obedience, and in turn he loves and cares for me.” I liked what I was hearing.
“See where I’m going here? Your opinion of yourself, being submissive, depending on your man to take care of you, it isn’t a weakness of character. It’s the way people have lived for thousands of years. Is it for everyone?
“Of course not, progress has reached the point where a traditional lifestyle isn’t necessary for survival, but that doesn’t mean it has to be replaced by a way of life we don’t want. Necessity has been replaced by choice, but we can still choose to let our men be in charge. We are not weak because we follow that path.”
I’d never heard anyone define the choice of submission so well. I agreed with everything she said. Her message was very specific to my own dilemma. I had a master, whoever he was, that seemed to be everything I could hope for. The question I had to answer, to myself, was if I could accept him.
No, that wasn’t really the question. Whether I agreed to the current situation or not he effectively owned me now, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it as long as I was here. The real question, the one I couldn’t answer, was how I felt about the way he had taken control of me without any regard for my feelings about it.
A Night at the Movies
Our unpredictable schedule made it difficult to live in the secure area. I never knew from one moment to the next what was coming. I had lost track of how long I’d been at the Center. Without a clock or calendar, and not even a window to see if it was day or night, all I had to keep track of time were meals and sleep periods. I wondered if those were deliberately manipulated as well. For all I knew we ate lunch at three in the morning and went to bed at noon.
The Wardens never let up, constantly watching us, ordering us around, and they never failed to utilize their favorite activity, putting us up against a wall. In spite of all that there were pleasant breaks on rare occasions. I thought of them as days off, although we never forgot our rules.
One evening after supper, a Warden announced we would be shown a movie. We were allowed to remain at our dining room tables while a screen and projector were set up. We were told to move our chairs around the table so we could all see the screen.
The real treat came before the movie started. Wardens brought carts filled with all those great concession stand snacks. We were allowed to go to a cart, one table at a time, and each pick out a snack and something to drink. I opted for popcorn and a cup of iced tea.
Once the movie started we weren’t allowed to talk. That was nice in a way, no irritating loudmouth in the back row on a cell phone to ruin the show. The Wardens, several of them, sat behind us. We weren’t allowed to turn around to look at them.
The movie was very recent, a romantic comedy. I remembered seeing the coming attractions before I came to the Center. After I finished my popcorn and tea I watched the rest of the movie sitting in position. I didn’t even notice until the movie ended. I suppose it was a habit now.
When the lights came back on everyone was ordered to stand. A Warden went to the front of the room and ordered us to spread, meaning we had to stand with our legs apart, to the limit of our ankle chains. A Warden came up behind me and told me to put my hands behind my back. On went the handcuffs, then out the door to a waiting gang chain. Life was back to normal. I hoped we were being taken to our cells for the night.
That’s not what happened. The Wardens had assembled us into our groups and had just started moving our line down a hallway when the lead Warden suddenly stopped us. Once more he put us against the wall. I heard the two Wardens in charge of us going back and forth but I had no idea what was happening.
I heard more Wardens arrive. Something unusual must be happening. I felt the presence of Wardens stopped, directly behind me. To my surprise I felt the gang cuff being unlocked from my wrist. Wardens on either side took hold of my arms. Then a hood went over my head.
I was dragged away. The two Wardens walked so fast I couldn’t get my feet under me. I tried to keep up but kept tripping on my leg chains. Something was terribly wrong. This is what happened to women who were punished. But I was sure I had behaved properly all day long. Why was this happening to me?
The Chance Encounter
One of the Wardens held me firmly against the wall with his hand pressing on my back. I didn’t know where I was or what they intended for me next. The hood over my head blinded me. All I knew for sure was that I wasn’t going to like whatever came next.
“Here, double up on her. Do her waist too.” That was one of the two Wardens that had come for me. I remembered him from that incident on the first day. Of course I didn’t know his name but he had a distinctive voice. The other one, holding me, took his hand off my back just long enough to lock another pair of handcuffs on my wrists. I didn’t understand that, one pair was sufficient to control me. Did they expect me to somehow escape from them?
He wasn’t finished. Next he wrapped a chain around my waist, just above the chastity belt. I felt it being pulled tight, with the loose ends behind me. A padlock snapped shut. The reason for the chain became obvious when he put some kind of covers over the cuff hinges, ran the free end of the chain through them and pulled my wrists up toward my waist. Thankfully he didn’t pull it tight, that would have been painful, but now the cuffs and my wrists were closely anchored to the small of my back. But wait, there’s more, as the TV commercials say.
As bad as the hinged handcuffs are there was one little tool in the restraint catalog that was even worse. My introduction began with the thumbcuffs clicking shut around my thumbs. They’re like tiny, rigid handcuffs with an opening just big enough for a finger. It felt like a lobster had hold of both my thumbs and would not let go.
I heard a cell door open. “Okay, let’s get her inside.” That was the first Warden again. He must be the one supervising my punishment. The two of them turned me around and maneuvered me inside some kind of enclosure. I felt bars brush against my arms. There was something around my head too.
When I felt the leg cuffs being removed I was surprised. They were loading up on the handcuffs but leaving my legs free? No, my little taste of freedom was short-lived. I felt new cuffs going around my ankles, larger and heavier. They were connected close together, not hinged but solid. They seemed to be attached to the floor too. I could still stand, but the cuffs held my ankles so close together it was impossible to move my legs.
The ankles weren’t enough. The next restraint was a wide leather belt above my knees. It wasn’t tight but snug enough to keep my legs together. There must be some attachment to the enclosure I was in, because it didn’t slip down my legs.
Now that I was securely immobilized the second Warden pulled off the hood. I did not like what I saw. I was in a kind of narrow cage, just big enough to stand in. My shoulders were within an inch of the sides. To either side of my face was some kind of enclosure, attached to the top of the cage. It was open but I could tell it was designed to fit around my head.
The first Warden stood directly in front of me. “You need some quiet time to reflect on your behavior today.” I saw a large and uncomfortable looking gag in his hand. He stared at me, thinking about something. Finally he continued. “As long as you remain silent we’ll leave the gag off. If you need help to keep quiet,” he held up the gag, “we can show you how.”
I did not want that gag on my head. Quiet as a mouse, that was my motto. It was huge, a wide leather front with a foam covered insert that would completely fill my mouth. There were straps coming off it everywhere, across and over the head, and under the chin. He didn’t add anything to his helpful offer but he did stand there, looking me right in the eyes. I was sure he was going to gag me anyway,
But for some reason he didn’t. Nervously I watched him hang it on a hook on the wall opposite where I stood. I got the message, it was ready and waiting. When he turned back around he reached in and closed the steel fixture around my head. There was a narrow slot to see, and a grill of small holes in front of my mouth, so I could breathe and talk, or more importantly not talk after seeing that gag. It fit under my chin and around my neck, stopping just above the collar. I found out the position was adjustable when he started to raise it.
The pressure on my chin and head forced me to stretch, trying my best to stand as straight as possible, but he didn’t stop. When I was on tiptoes, the best I could do with those shackles on my ankles, he stopped and let it down just enough for me to get my feet back on the floor. The rigid, tight fit prevented me from moving my head.
Both Wardens stepped back so the first one could close the front. Those bars were inches from my face. I couldn’t see but I heard the lock click shut. I couldn’t move.
At that moment a buzzer went off in the outer office. Both the Wardens left, shutting the door behind them. I was left alone to meditate about my quiet time.
I decided to explore my tiny prison, starting with my hands. I could jerk against the waist chain but I didn’t accomplish anything. Why they had to double up on those handcuffs I had no idea. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. I think they did it because they could, and I had no way to stop them. I found out the combination of hinged cuffs and thumbcuffs made my hands useless. I did try to slip a thumb out, without success. The Wardens wouldn’t be that careless.
That left my legs. I tried to lift one leg up a little, no luck. Those shackles on my ankles didn’t have any play at all, especially since they were chained to the floor. The belt around my knees didn’t help either. The way he had stretched me out with that thing on my head was putting a strain on my legs. I could feel it in my calf muscles.
I had an ominous feeling about what was coming. The massive overkill in restraining me didn’t seem to have a point. Not at first, but the longer I stood there the more I realized from the ache growing in my legs that they knew exactly what they were doing. All I had to do was yell out, beg them to release me…and give him an excuse to use that gag. I was determined not to let that happen.
I couldn’t see much. The gag hanging on the wall in front of me was clearly visible, no doubt intentionally. There was some kind of ridge around my view slit which resulted in tunnel vision. I could just make out the door. It was solid, and no way to open it on this side that I could see from my vantage point. It must be soundproof too. I couldn’t hear anything from the other side.
I wondered how long they would leave me like this. There were no clocks on the wall. As far as I knew there were no clocks anywhere in the Center, or at least in the secure area. None of the Wardens had a wristwatch either. I had the clever idea I could sneak a look to see the time that way, until I found out not one Warden wore a watch.
Time slowed to a crawl. I still didn’t know why I was being punished. Had I done something while the movie was playing? I was always very careful when a Warden was in the room. I must have missed an order or inadvertently broken position at some point during the day.
I tried to shift around in my cage. I didn’t make any progress but I figured there would be enough noise so anyone else in the room could hear, and maybe answer. I listened but heard nothing. That meant I was alone in here.
The helmet enclosing my head was a nasty piece of work. It had a rigid mount somewhere on the outside, since I couldn’t budge it. Nor could I turn my head inside since the fit was too close.
The door swung open without warning. I caught a glimpse of the outer office again, what looked like a desk with papers on it. The first Warden walked in and stopped in front of me. He studied me intently, looking up and down. He reached through the bars, grabbed the chain around my waist and gave it a good tug. It didn’t come off. Kneeling down, and out of my sight, he reached in to run his hands down my lower legs, stopping at the cuffs. He took his time caressing my ankle, running his hand over and around the steel encircling it.
This was something new. His “inspection” was nothing of the kind. It was clear to me exactly what he was thinking. When he stood up he reached in between the bars again, this time slipping his fingers under the chastity belt. He gave it a quick tug. “You know I have the key for this,” he whispered, so low I could barely hear him. He leaned down to look into my eye slot, only inches away. I stared at his brown eyes, unable to look away.
I think this was the first time I really understood what it meant not to be in control. This man clearly wanted me and there was nothing I could do to stop him. I was terrified and aroused at the same time. I had to please this man or he might leave me here indefinitely.
He backed up, arms folded, watching me. “You’ve been a good girl. Keep it up; it will go easier for you. I was sure we’d need the gag by now.”
He walked over to the open door. “Alright, bring her in.” That must have been directed to someone in the outer office. I took it to mean he was finished with me, for the moment. I wanted to clench my fists in frustration, but those thumbcuffs didn’t even allow me that small relief.
The second Warden wheeled in what looked like a spindly wheelchair. In it was Laura, the woman they had taken away that first day. She was strapped down tight. I realized it wasn’t a wheelchair but one of those restraint chairs used to transport violent and dangerous prisoners. Close-fitting straps held her elbows, wrists, knees and ankles against the chair frame. More straps down her shoulders, across her waist and over her thighs secured her torso.
I had seen one of those chairs on a reality TV show. It was like a portable jail cell. I noticed there were some embellishments too. Her hands were covered with some kind of stiff nylon tubes. Worst of all she had on the same type of gag as the one hanging on the wall. It looked like a giant spider covered her face, with straps going around her nose and over her head. There was a wide chin strap to prevent it slipping, and more straps going to the back of her head. Over it all was a harness around her head, pinning her against the chair back.
She didn’t look too good. From what I could see there was a fearful, haunted expression on her face. It was obvious her time in the Center had been far more difficult than my own.
The second Warden wheeled her over to a spot in front of me. She sat there, facing me. “We’ll put her in number two,” the first Warden said. It sounded like she would be joining me. “I don’t think we’ll need the gag, will we, Laura?”
I saw her trying to shake her head in a no. The head straps holding her to the chair made it difficult. He released the harness and started unbuckling the gag. When he pulled it out of her mouth I saw her working her jaw. It must have been painful wearing it.
Just then I heard the phone ringing through the open door. Both Wardens looked annoyed at the interruption. “I’ll finish here, you go ahead,” the first Warden said. The other one nodded and left. There was some indistinct conversation from the other room, followed by the sound of another door opening and closing.
The remaining Warden started talking to Laura, “You get an unexpected reprieve. You were supposed to join our other guest in one of our popular ‘standing room only’ accommodations but for reasons you don’t need to know that will be postponed.” He turned to look at me. “Since the two of you will be alone for some time I’m going to allow you to talk to each other, with a few restrictions.”
There were always restrictions, on everything we did. I expected that. The “some time” comment was more worrisome. My legs were complaining loudly, and my shoulders were joining in.
“You,” he was looking into my eye slot, “are not permitted to discuss why you are here now, or anything that has happened since you and Laura parted company.” He turned back to Laura, “and you…” He stopped. I had no idea what he intended for her.
He stood directly in front of Laura’s chair, towering over her. “Perhaps it’s better if everyone knows about you. You have permission to discuss your arrival here and what happened afterwards. You will not discuss how you failed your master, or the reason why you were sent to the Center.”
He walked over to the open door. Before leaving he added one last word, “Both of you are already in trouble. Remember your instructions. Don’t make a serious matter worse.” He left, shutting the door. I heard the click of the lock.
We were alone, and from the sound of it for quite a while. I looked down at Laura. “So, think it’ll rain today?” He hadn’t left me with much to start a conversation.
She looked up at me, a rueful smile on her face. “If it does we’ll never know.” She stared at me. “Sorry, I don’t recognize you behind that thing on your head. Your voice sounds familiar.”
“I was in your group on arrival. Lenora, I was the last one to be seated.” It seemed like years ago, but it couldn’t be more than a few weeks. Or maybe it was months, I wasn’t sure. Was it deliberate, making us lose track of time? It must be; the Wardens never did anything that wasn’t planned in advance.
“I remember you. You said you came here voluntarily.”
“Yeah, I was the one who asked when I could leave the Center.” My question at that first orientation sounded incredibly naïve now. I’d settle for knowing how to get out of my current situation, but I wouldn’t dare ask that question.
“Why on earth did you ask to come here? Didn’t you know what this place was like?”
If I had known, would I still have come? The sane answer would have been no, but despite all that had been done to me I wasn’t sure how I would choose. “No, I didn’t know anything about the Center. I’d never heard of it. I was offered a chance to find myself, what was called a ‘life changing’ experience. Those were the exact words.”
I could see her looking me up and down with her eyes. “Since you’re in there something must have happened. I won’t ask; I know you can’t tell me.” I saw her strain against the strap on her body as she tried to rise up. “I can’t see your feet or hands. What did they do? I’m asking because there’s another cage next to you. From what he said when they return I’ll be in it soon.”
That explained why she was here. I couldn’t see the cage next to mine. Between the hood when they brought me in, and now this thing around my head I had no idea what was in our cell, except the little I could see in front. “My ankles are chained to the floor, with a belt around my knees so I can’t move my legs. They put two pairs of handcuffs on my wrists, behind my back, plus they locked the cuffs to a chain around my waist. Oh yeah, just to make sure I wouldn’t escape they hooked my thumbs together with miniature handcuffs.” Those had moved to the top of my hate list.
I could see she didn’t like what she heard. “Not much to look forward to. In a way I guess I should be glad they left me in this chair. At least I get to sit down.”
I’d give anything to sit down. I was curious about her chair. “Those things on your hands, what are they?”
“It’s some kind of stiff nylon bag.” She struggled with the restraints on her wrists. I could see a slight movement inside the tubes. “If you can see, I can’t even bend my fingers. The best I can manage is to move them back and forth a little. Most of the time they won’t let me use my hands. Even when the Wardens let me get some sleep I have to wear them.”
I couldn’t imagine what it would be like without hands. In a sense when I had the handcuffs on, behind my back, I couldn’t do much but the rest of the time my wrists and hands weren’t restrained. And the Wardens didn’t make us sleep with cuffs on. I wasn’t sure which would be worse, those tubes over my hands or my thumbs locked together.
“No one has seen you since…” I hesitated. How to put it in a tactful way?
“Since I had a melt down? I’m not really that stupid. I did know better, but too many things happened too close together. They grabbed me right off the street, did you know that? One moment I’m walking out of a store in the mall, the next the police surround me, announcing to everyone I’m under arrest for shoplifting. While they handcuff and search me I’m tearfully pleading my innocence. They haul me out to a waiting van. It wasn’t until we were out of the city that I realized I wasn’t going to jail.” She stopped, closing her eyes.
I had been taken the same way. The only difference was I knew it would happen. I’d have been petrified with fear if taken her way. I knew what to expect and it had still been difficult. In public, with a crowd watching, that would have been too much.
I thought about the Warden’s instructions. I didn’t recall any prohibition against asking Laura questions about what had happened to her. I did hesitate; I was concerned she might not want to talk about it. Curiosity got the better of me.
“Laura, can I ask about that day?” I paused to think on how to word it. “What happened when you were taken away?”
She didn’t answer immediately. “I suppose so; the Warden did give his permission. You saw them drag me out of the holding cell?”
I had been too scared to break position and watch. “I didn’t see too much. Paula told me to hold still, so I couldn’t see what happened.”
“Ahh, yes, our dear, beloved Paula. I know her, Miss Perfection, a model guest we can all admire. Did you know the Wardens refer to us as guests? But I’m sure you did the right thing. Anyway, they got a gag in my mouth right away, before they unhooked me from the floor. They already had me in chains so it wasn’t hard to manhandle me out the door.”
There was a note of bitterness in her voice. I didn’t know about being a ‘guest’ but in one sense it was accurate. We received room and board, and there wasn’t even a bill. It did sound better than ‘prisoner’ or ‘inmate’.
“That’s the last any of us saw or heard about you. We weren’t allowed to discuss it.” I had watched for her, so I’d know if she was all right. Even if I didn’t approve of what she had done I didn’t want her to suffer for it. Well, not suffer too much.
“So I disappeared? They put a bag over my head so I couldn’t see where they took me. When the hood came off I was in a small cage on a bare floor, still in chains and that gag. I couldn’t sit up or lay down because it was too cramped. They left me there, I don’t know how long. Once in a while a Warden would come in and hose me down to keep me and the cage clean. Once they took off the gag I got a little water that way. They didn’t feed me.”
The Wardens must have been very angry at her for a severe punishment like that. I’d never experienced anything like it. In my visits to bondage parties I’d been tied up with rope, even restrained with chains, but never for long periods of time, and I’d never been put in a small cage.
“While I was in there Wardens would come in and lecture me at all hours. They wouldn’t let me sleep. If I couldn’t stay awake they hosed me down to make sure I paid attention.
“At some point they let me go. I vaguely remember being pulled out of the cage. They took off the cuffs and gave me a pad on the floor so I could sleep. I thought the worst was over.”
She stopped again. I waited, giving her time to gather her thoughts. Meanwhile I had problems of my own. My thumbs were throbbing. I tried to twist them around but it didn’t help. I closed my eyes, telling myself I could manage. I knew if I begged the Warden to take them off it would be the excuse he needed to use that gag. And chances are I’d still have the thumbcuffs on afterwards.
“I was kept in isolation. They made me get in that cage again and locked me in all day long. I was let out to sleep and eat one meal. I think it was the third day my master showed up. He brought in a chair and sat down in front of me. I was so ashamed I couldn’t even look at him.”
Ashamed? I suppose I’d be ashamed too if I ever acted that way. She should have thought about the consequences before throwing a tantrum.
Laura was beginning to irritate me. Standing in this cage was beginning to irritate me. The thumbcuffs were long past irritating me. My patience ran out. She made foolish choices and then whined about it, looking for sympathy.
“I regret what you had to go through, Laura, but you have to face the fact you did it to yourself. Right from the beginning you knew, we all knew who is in charge here. There’s no excuse for defying them. And you knew that too, that’s why you waited until the Wardens were gone and poor Cathy had to take the blame for your disobedience. Did anyone tell you she had to stay in the secure area as punishment?”
Laura looked genuinely surprised at the news about Cathy. “I never meant for her to be blamed. I just wanted out of here…”
I interrupted her, all but shouting. “You wanted? What the Wardens want is all you should care about! That’s why we are here. Sure, I want out of this cage. I really want these horrid little thumbcuffs off my hands.
“But that’s not what the Wardens want from me. I don’t know why I’m being punished. They didn’t tell me, which means I don’t need to know. They have a reason for putting me in here. I have no idea what it is, but I accept they have the right to discipline me. They ordered me in here, I obeyed. I will stand here as long as I’m able. I hope it won’t be until my thumbs fall off. It’s that simple. If you can’t understand, well, enjoy your easy chair. I hope they do put you in the cage next to me. I hope you get two of these dreadful thumbcuffs for good measure. And I hope they put that gag back in so I won’t have to listen…”
Without warning the door swung open. I stopped talking mid-sentence. In came the same two Wardens. Both went over to Laura, ignoring me. “Time for your new accommodations. I’m sure you’d like to stand up after sitting for so long.”
It didn’t take them long to transfer her. I watched them free her from the chair straps. They did let her stand up for a moment to stretch. After that I couldn’t see what happened but I did hear the cage door next to mine open and shut.
The first Warden turned to me. “You were not brought here to be punished. Your master ordered you to be confined in that cage. The purpose is to demonstrate to you he will treat his property as he sees fit. He has asked me to inform you that he is pleased with the way you cooperated. You have done well.”
I was so relieved! While standing in the cage I had rerun the day over and over in my head, trying to figure out where I made a mistake. I still wasn’t too pleased about being put in here but I was thankful it was my master’s wishes and not my own blunder that earned me a trip to the punishment room.
“However, you were told to speak quietly. That’s not what happened.” I cringed. He heard me after all. I was sure to get the gag now. “You will spend some more time in your cage, to think about how you will make sure it doesn’t happen again.” He leaned in, reached through the bars around my back. I felt his hand on mine. Suddenly he grabbed the thumbcuffs and yanked. I let out a yelp in pain. “I’m not pleased you failed to follow my orders. Do not test me again.”
My little window suddenly went dark. He had slid a cover over my eye slot, a very effective blindfold. I was in total darkness.
“Both of you will remain silent. If I hear one sound, from either of you, you’ll both be gagged and your punishment time will be doubled.” The Wardens left, closing the door behind them.
I felt terrible. Here I had been lecturing Laura while being disobedient myself. I took a deep breath. I can do this, I told myself. Whatever it takes, I was determined to make it through my punishment without begging to be released. This time I was being disciplined for cause. I deserved it; I knew what I was doing. Not that I had a choice but I did accept his judgement.
Time passes very slowly in those cages. I felt cut off from the outside world. No sight, no sound, I was all alone and helpless. All I could do is wait, and hope the Wardens would come back to release me. Once I heard Laura try to move around in her cage. I don’t think she got any further than my own efforts. I worried the Wardens might hear her but I had no way to ask her to stop. I tried to keep as still as possible.
The real punishment wasn’t being confined. It was boredom. Hour after hour I stood in that tiny cage, unable to move, forbidden to talk, and nothing to do except collect a few more aches and pains with every passing minute. It would end at some point in the future. That I knew from the Warden’s comment about doubling our punishment time. How long I had to stay in the cage wasn’t arbitrary, I just didn’t know how long it would be.
In Review
Steve switched to the wide view camera so he could see both Laura in her chair and Lenora in the gibbet. He picked up the headphones to listen in. Putting them in the same area was an experiment, to see how they would interact with each other.
The two women were a stark contrast. He had checked Laura’s record. This wasn’t her first visit to the Center. From what he could infer Laura had a temper that was unpredictable in occurrence or ferocity. It might be a long time before she left the Center again.
Lenora was the opposite. He knew from the intercepted emails and online chat conversations she had an unambiguous opinion on the relationship between men and women, an opinion that would not win her any friends in politically correct circles. She made no secret of her interest in dominant men. She also made it clear what she saw as her role. That fascinated him.
Lenora’s sudden outburst made him sit up. She had raised her voice, which would require a reprimand of some kind. But what she was saying was the interesting part.
Steve almost laughed at the mention of the thumbcuffs. They weren’t necessary for security purposes. She wasn’t going anywhere. They weren’t tight enough to cut off circulation but were a nasty combination when used with the hinged handcuffs. They were uncomfortable, but would she break down and risk the gag in order to beg him to remove them?
When Larry came back to help transfer Laura, Steve decided to put an end to it. The moment he opened the door to the punishment room Lenora halted her rant. Even angry she had the presence of mind to remember how to behave. He decided to let her off with a little extra time in the cage.
Back in the office he watched her on the monitor. He couldn’t see her expression; that was one of the drawbacks with those solid head enclosures. From her posture, her body language, she seemed to be resigned to her confinement. He checked the time. Another hour or two should be sufficient. For her it would seem to be twice as long.
The Best of Times…
I tried to think of some part of my body that didn’t hurt. My legs, my neck, my back, my shoulders, and especially my thumbs all throbbed in pain. Again and again I tried to move around, to find some position where a little part of me didn’t ache. Whoever designed this cage had a sadistic personality. No matter what I did it only seemed to make matters worse.
I wondered about that Warden. I thought it was odd he kept showing up to take charge of me. I had seen several others in the secure area, but somehow he was always the one assigned to supervise the group I was in. To keep track of them I had named him ‘First’, since he was the first Warden I saw in action, the day I arrived at the Center. The way he had come in, taken charge, reassured us and calmed things down was impressive. I could use some of that reassurance now.
I closed my eyes, telling myself I only had five more minutes to go. I can last five minutes. I knew it wasn’t actually going to be five minutes, but it was a goal I could focus on.
I heard the door open. When I opened my eyes I could see again. He stood in front of me, arms folded. Was he expecting something from me? I looked at the gag on the wall behind him. No, I wasn’t going to be the one to speak first. I stood there, waiting.
“You’d like to get out of there, wouldn’t you”? He waited. I didn’t say anything. “Answer me.”
“Yes, sir,” I kept it short. I was in unfamiliar territory here. What was he doing? What was I supposed to do? Of course I wanted out, but why would he ask me?
My hopes rose when he unlocked my cage. He reached down to remove the belt around my knees. I couldn’t see but I felt the shackles coming off my ankles. When he stood back up I took the opportunity to bend first one knee and then the other. The instant relief felt wonderful.
I was still tethered to the cage by the helmet around my head. He didn’t continue though. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he began. “I’m going to release you in a moment. We will go to the outer office. There’s a bathroom there where you can clean up. “
“I’m going to trust you,” he continued. I hung on every word. I was more than willing to follow his every command if it got me out of this cage. Especially if it got those awful thumbcuffs off. “You will remain silent, unless it’s necessary that you ask for assistance. You will not be restrained.” It sounded better by the second.
He released the enclosure around my head and took hold of one arm to help me out. He kept going, pushing me to the far wall. I knew that routine, stand up straight, head high, eyes forward. Then a miracle, the thumbcuffs came off! I was in heaven.
The real surprise came when he unlocked both pairs of handcuffs. I let my arms drop to my side. The relief in my shoulders felt wonderful. I heard the padlock pop open, followed by the chain falling away from my waist.
He left me standing there for a minute or so. I heard him walking around behind me. I assume he was putting away my restraints. It was another weight off my mind when I heard him shut the door to my recent cage; he wasn’t going to put me back in there.
“You’re doing well,” he told me. “Let’s go into the front office.” He took hold of my arm. I had a chance to look at the cage next to mine. Laura was in there, with that enclosure around her head. I saw her eye slot was closed too. I couldn’t see her hands behind her back but I hoped she had some of those thumbcuffs to keep her company.
As I expected, the outer room was an office for the Wardens. There were two desks, with monitors, which were switched off. There was a table and chairs. I had to study a wall once more, while he closed the door to the punishment room. After that he turned me around.
“There’s a bathroom behind that door.” He pointed to a closed door. “You have permission to take a shower. You need not hurry.” A shower all to myself, now that was a real luxury. Hot water did wonders for sore muscles.
He led me over to the door. Before he opened it I did the wall routine once again. This time it was a little different. He turned me around so my back was against the wall and then took out a keychain from his belt. I had no idea what he intended until he started to unlock the chastity belt. “There are cleaning supplies inside. I will inspect it when you finish. Remember, I’m trusting you, so don’t let me down.” He put the belt down on the counter inside the bathroom. “In you go. Knock on the door when you are ready.”
He shut the door behind me. I stared at it, surprised and unsure what was happening. We were never left alone behind a closed door unless we were being confined, especially without our belts on. Those only came off during the morning shower, and we were always under constant supervision then.
I confess I took him at his word when he said I didn’t have to hurry. Of course my first task was to clean my belt. I found everything I needed in the cabinet under the sink. I went over every inch, scrubbing first, and then polishing the metalwork. He would inspect the belt before he put it back on me so it had to be perfect.
The hot water was every bit as wonderful as I anticipated. I let it run over my back and shoulders. There was a dryer on the counter so I took the opportunity to wash my hair. For a moment I felt human again.
While drying off with a big fluffy towel I stopped to look at myself in the mirror. My hand went to the collar around my neck. It had been there since the moment I arrived. I could pretend for the moment I was in the real world, as we called it, but the collar brought me back to reality. Whatever else, I was still the property of a man I didn’t even know; a man who didn’t think twice about ordering me into one of those cages, for no other reason than to prove he could.
I finished combing my hair. I straightened up, folded the towels, wiped off the mirror and the counter, and took one last look at the belt. A good thing I checked, since there was some condensation on the metal. I quickly wiped it off and placed it on the counter where he had left it. I took one last look around to make sure everything was in order, raised my hand and knocked on the door.
I stood there, arms at my side, waiting. When he opened the door I was ready, head up, in the proper position. He took his time looking me up and down. It was funny, I thought to myself. Without the chastity belt on, and forced to stand there in front of a man, I felt truly naked for the first time.
He ordered me out into the office and right to a handy wall. When he told me to turn around he had the belt in his hand, looking it over. My cleaning work must have been acceptable, for he took out a key from his belt and opened it.
“Display yourself. Hands behind your head, spread your legs.” That was the usual routine when the belts were put on us. He slipped the open band around my waist, pulled it closed, reached down for the centerpiece and brought it up between my legs to the lock plate. For good measure he checked it to make sure it was a close fit. “Remain where you are,” he ordered.
I stood there, in the display position, while he sat down at his desk. He went back to his paperwork, leaving me standing with my back to the wall. Every so often he would look over at me.
He finished whatever he was doing, stood up and faced me. “There’s one more task you must complete before you are returned to your group. It will be difficult, but your master has ordered it. Can I expect your cooperation?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Yes, sir,” I answered. I hoped it wasn’t a trip back to that cage, but if that’s what I had to do then I was prepared for it. As it turned out I needn’t have worried about the cage.
And the Worst of Times
The gag was just as bad as I expected. It completely filled my mouth, pushing down my tongue. Any attempt to speak came out as garbled noise. The straps went everywhere. I couldn’t push it out or work it loose. The Warden tugged on the straps behind my head, making sure they were tight.
“Count to five,” he ordered. I tried but all that came out was unintelligible noise. The foam completely filled my mouth, absorbing and distorting any sound I tried to make.
“Now scream, as loud as you can, as if your life depended on it.” I tried, I really did. I screamed my lungs out, but no one would have heard me. He made his point.
I was back in the punishment room. Not in that cage though. Compared to where I was now the cage wasn’t so bad after all. Looking up I could see my wrists high above my head. They were shackled close together, my hands touching palm to palm. Tape wrapped around my hands and fingers kept them under control. Except my thumbs, which he put in those thumbcuffs again. A chain hanging from the ceiling was locked to the wrist shackles, forcing my arms up, over my head.
There was no cage this time. I was standing in the middle of the room. My legs were spread far apart. Cuffs around my ankles kept me in place. That would have been bad enough, but he made me put on those ballet boots I’d been practicing in. I was standing on my toes. A cuff was closed tight around each boot, above the ankle. The chain on each cuff was locked to a ring on the floor.
With my hands taped together I couldn’t even grab hold of the chain to help relieve the strain on my legs and feet. He picked up a nearby chair and dropped it in front of me. He sat down, put his hands behind his head, leaned back and looked over his work.
“You can struggle if you like. You may speak freely.” He smiled at his little joke. I didn’t see the humor in it. The gag guaranteed I would not ‘speak freely’. I did try to struggle but I got nowhere fast. He knew what he was doing. I gave up, resigned to whatever he intended for me.
He leaned forward, studying me intently. “You look uncomfortable.” That was an understatement. If my picture were in a dictionary it would be under the definition of ‘uncomfortable’. He stood up. “I think I can help you out. How about I get some of this hardware off you?”
I tried to say yes, gave up and settled for nodding my head vigorously. He took out his keychain from his duty belt. “Let’s see, how about we start with this.” He sorted through his keys, stopped when he found the one he wanted. Please, I thought, let it be my ankles.
He inserted the key into the lock set into the front of my chastity belt. A turn and the front shield fell down, swinging between my legs. He pulled apart the belt and slipped it off my waist. He backed up, still standing in front of me, the belt in one hand.
“That should do it. I’m sure you feel much better with it off. You don’t need to thank me.” He sat down again. He made a show of closing the now empty belt, latching it shut.
It wasn’t at all better. In desperation I tried to work a hand loose. He looked up, watching me. He didn’t have to intervene. There was no way I could escape. I had a very bad feeling as to how this was going to end.
He held up the now closed belt. “Would you like me to put it back on you?” That was exactly what I wanted. I nodded again.
He laughed, “This has to be a first, a woman begging to be locked up in a chastity belt.” In frustration I squirmed in my restraints. He was playing with me. I closed my eyes. I was helpless. He could do whatever he wanted to me with impunity.
I opened my eyes when I heard him walk around behind me. I tried to turn my head around to see what he was doing. His response was to grab a handful of my hair and twist my head back, painfully. “Eyes front, stand up straight, head high.” I obeyed without thinking, although the standing part didn’t require any effort. I couldn’t help myself, habits are hard to break. “Remain in position,” he warned. I stared at the far wall, willing my protesting body to not move.
He was behind me, out of sight now. I had no idea what he was doing until I felt his hand on my wrists. He explored the shackles binding them together, running his fingers over the steel and my skin. He finished by running the same hand down my arm to my shoulder. His fingers slipped under my collar, pulling it tight against the side of my neck.
He was close behind me. I heard him whisper in my ear, “You are a most attractive woman, in so many ways.” He let go of my collar. He ran his fingertips down my back. I had to stifle a gasp when he roughly grabbed a breast, reaching around me. “These were made for a man’s touch. Do you miss that?” Order or not I closed my eyes. He was forcing my arousal. I tried to push against his hand. I didn’t want him to stop.
“You make quite a picture,” he whispered again. “Like a fine masterpiece, you have certain aesthetic qualities when bound and helpless.”
My eyes flew open. ‘Aesthetic qualities’ I had heard only one time before. They were the words my shadowy master wrote at that first interview. He must have felt my body tense.
He walked around in front of me. He stood very close, hands on my hips. “Yes, I am your master, and you are my property. Now, I intend to make use of my possession.” That was the moment he chose to enter me.
Out of His Hand
Steve was busy tightening the straps around her ankles when he noticed Lenora watching him. He stood up, looking over his work. She was confined in the restraint chair, bound at the wrists, ankles and torso, leaving only her head free. He went around the chair, checking each strap to make sure it wasn’t too tight, or too loose. She calmly watched him at work.
“Tell me if you start to lose circulation, or if you have trouble breathing.” Steve had the basic training on the proper use of the chair, but he knew it had potential dangers if misused.
“Yes, sir,” she answered. Steve watched her, looking for any sign of distress. She appeared composed, almost curious as to what he was doing.
He released the chair brake and wheeled her out to the office. He parked her at the table and set the brake. She wouldn’t be going anywhere. “Go ahead,” he told her, “You are curious, aren’t you? See if you can get out of it.”
She struggled for a few minutes, trying to slip out of the web straps. Steve was satisfied she was secured. “You missed supper,” he explained, “so I had something sent in for you. When you finish I’ll take you to your cell for the night.”
“Thank you, sir, I am hungry” The tray was sitting on the table. Given her condition he knew it would be extremely difficult for her to eat, since she was immobilized below her neck.
He turned her to the side, away from the table. Pulling out a chair he sat down next to her. “Would you like some help?” He took the cover off the plate. “It does smell good.”
She didn’t answer right away. He noticed she had an odd look on her face. Steve waited patiently for her reply. “Please sir, will you help me? I can’t eat without your assistance.”
Steve picked up the salad bowl and a fork. “We’ll start with this.” He stabbed a piece of lettuce with the fork. “Open wide.” She opened her mouth to take the lettuce off the fork. Steve stopped just outside her reach. She looked up at him, waiting.
He smiled. There was something about seeing a helpless female begging him for a morsel of food. Even an everyday event as simple as eating dinner was completely under his control. He moved the fork closer so she could eat.
Steve took his time feeding her, enjoying the moment. When he held out a piece of bread she took a bite from it. The picture of her literally eating out of his hand would stay with him forever.
When she finished he wiped her chin with the napkin. He pushed the tray back and stood up. She looked up at him, waiting for whatever he would choose to do next.
He still had some time with her. He picked up his chair and shifted it to face her. Sitting down he crossed his arms. “I imagine you have many questions to ask me. You may speak freely. Keep in mind I may choose to not answer some questions, for my own reasons.”
Again she studied him before answering. “Yes sir, I do have questions. What are your intentions toward me?”
Steve nodded in approval. She wasn’t afraid to ask the difficult ones. “My intentions? To own you, of course. By that I mean not just putting a collar around your neck and holding you captive here. Physical control is only a start. I intend to own what I see behind those eyes, your mind, your soul, what it is that makes you so special.”
He stood and leaned over her. Taking her head in his hands he stared directly into her eyes. “I want what’s looking back at me right now. I want all of it. I want to be in there with you, telling you what to think. I want to be that voice whispering in your ear, reminding you of what is allowed and what is forbidden. I want to be your conscience, deciding right and wrong for you. I want my hand on every aspect of your life, pointing you in the right direction, urging you forward when needed, holding you back when you overreach.
“I want mental control over you. I want you so dependent on me you can’t imagine any other kind of life. Those are my intentions.” He let go of her head and sat back down.
Her eyes were wide open, staring at him. There was a confused expression on her face, as if she didn’t know what to say. It took a moment for her to regain her composure. “Why me, sir? I’m no supermodel. A powerful man like you can have his pick of women.”
“Yes I can. That’s not what I want. I look for that rarest of jewels, the one in a million, and a woman who gives herself to her man in ways no other woman can. You are one of those precious few. I would be a fool of the worst sort to let you slip away from my grasp.”
“But, what makes me so special?” She asked. “I’m no different than anyone else.”
Steve laughed, “No, you would be the last to recognize what sets you apart. What makes you special?” He leaned forward, one hand on her knee. “You have a gift no man can resist. You are willing to open up and let me into your head. I want in there; you invite me in.”
“Sir, why did you bring me here? Why the secrecy? Why didn’t you just ask me?”
Steve recognized this was a tricky question. “Ask you? No, that was the wrong way. I think you realize it too. If I had sought you out the usual way, introduction, dating, getting to know each other, we’d be on the path of eventual destruction. That’s why your previous relationships have all failed.
“I saw that. Yes, I know quite a bit about you. I do my research first. The right path for us was this one. You need all the pretense stripped away. I wanted you, I took you. Now you belong to me. You needed someone to seize you, without your consent.”
Skirting the Issue
Today’s practice session held a surprise for me. When the Warden brought me into the practice room there were more boxes on the tables. Something had been added but what it might be left me scratching my head.
When the Wardens left us my instructor pointed to a chair. I sat down and started to reach for the box with my boots. She held up a hand. “No, not yet. There’s something else we need to do first.” I folded my hands in my lap, waiting for her to tell me what to do. It must be related to what was in the new boxes.
She opened the box on her table. Out came a skirt, I’d say about knee length. “We have special permission to put these on while we practice. Always put the skirt on before your boots, and take your boots off before the skirt. Open your box but don’t put it on yet.”
I took out my skirt. It was black, matching the boots. Something seemed odd about it. I watched while she stepped into it and pulled it up over her hips. There was a zipper on the side. The hemline came down to just above her knee.
Now I understood what was different about these skirts. They were very tight and narrowed at the knee. Hobble skirts, they were called. I’d never worn one but I had read about them. Impossible to run in one, and walking was restricted. I began to realize what was coming next.
My instructor sat down so she could put on her boots. When she finished she stood up. Some skin showed, between the knee and boot top. Very conservative, but it had a nice look overall. “You get the idea? The two go together,” my instructor pointed out, smoothing her skirt with her hands. “The boots keep your steps short, the skirt does the same. You do have to watch your balance very carefully with the combination. Between the two you don’t have much in the way of leg movement.”
I could see what she meant. She gestured toward the skirt in my hand, so I stood up to put it on. When I zipped up the side it did go over my chastity belt, but it was a tight fit. I took a few steps back and forth to get used to it. The first impression, restricted. Down to the knee my legs were held close together.
I sat down to put on the boots. There were going to be a whole new set of challenges wearing this ensemble that only a man could dream up. My master did like to make life difficult for me. I still didn’t know why I was doing this. He must have some plan in mind for me.
Standing up wasn’t so hard. I looked over at the mirror. With a nice blouse it wouldn’t be so bad. Those boot heels drew so much attention no one would notice what else I had on. I took a step, keeping the chair within arm’s reach if I happened to fall. As I expected I essentially had to walk from the knees down.
My instructor made her way over to the mirror and handrail. It wasn’t just me; she had to do the same, slow and short. Being very careful to keep my balance, I followed her.
“We don’t have much to work with so you have to concentrate on your legs,” she told me. “If you’re in public, ideally you can hang on to your master’s arm. If you’re on your own, try to stay close to something you can grab to steady yourself. When you go into a room, plot your course in advance. Pick out your islands, places where there’s furniture or anything you can use if you start to trip. Watch out for crowds, like at a party. Someone bumps into you, well, hello floor. If at all possible ask your master to escort you if you do have to walk around.”
Maybe that’s why he wanted me to wear this stuff. I’d have to rely on him even more. It made sense, knowing how he liked to keep me dependent, helpless and needy. To be safe I kept one hand close to the rail while I tried standing for a while.
My instructor did the same. “Get used to it to start. At least we got the short skirts. You should try this with the floor length version.”
I didn’t even think about that. I asked her if she had one.
“Yes I do, several of them. Down to your ankles you can barely walk. It feels like a straitjacket for your legs. The best you can manage is one foot in front of the other. It takes forever to walk across a room. About the only good thing is that it hides the ballet boots. Unless someone notices you are standing on your toes.”
My master would love that. Now I knew what I would be getting for Christmas.
Trust But Verify
Steve switched off the monitor. He made a note to check on longer hobble skirts. Meanwhile her progress today proved he was right in finding a difficult but achievable task for her. The goals had to be his idea. She did best with an assignment imposed from without, rather than working on something she selected. He gave her the resources, in this case the instructor and time to practice. Her own need to succeed, to please him, drove her to stay at it every day.
He had no real plans for how he would exploit her new skills. If he had explained his reasons it would have ruined her motivation, trivializing her accomplishments. But now that he saw how nice she looked walking around in those shoes from hell he would make sure she had the opportunity to show off what she had learned.
How much longer should he keep her in the secure area? Steve had the resources to continue holding her indefinitely, though that had never been his intention. There was always the risk of diminishing returns. Keeping her in here for too long could lead to feelings of disappointment, despair at ever being good enough, even depression. Plus it deprived him of her company. His patience was not unlimited.
Steve considered her progress. Another week or two, that might work. She wasn’t going to leave the Center in any case. All Wardens had apartments, big enough for two. For her it would be a gradual transition, still under strictly enforced rules but without the harsh living conditions. She would be able to socialize, albeit in the company of women like herself. Most importantly, he would still have complete control over her. And if he had miscalculated she could be returned to the secure area on a moment’s notice.
He would keep her busy until the last day. Anticipation might cause her to make a mistake, and at this point he didn’t want to see her subjected to punishment or an extended stay due to an avoidable error. Given her reports he was sure the review committee would approve of her release, which would give him sole discretion as to when she could leave.
Could he trust her outside the secure area? Although she would still be limited to the Center there were outside channels through phones and the internet. With every new arrival’s release there was a calculated risk. In her case Steve doubted she would try to escape or call for help. It still amazed him how fast she adapted to her current circumstances, and how well she responded to authority. No, something like that couldn’t be faked, not for so long or so well.
Even so he’d keep her on a short leash. No computer or phone to start, and he’d carefully monitor contact with the other residents. If she did well, he’d consider a trip to the city to see how she behaved.
Sorting It Out
I lay in bed, rubbing my feet. I finally managed to walk all the way across the practice room in those ballet boots today, and with the hobble skirt on. I had to stop more than once, and toward the end I nearly fell down, but I made it. I’d never be as graceful as my instructor, but she must have been a ballet dancer at one time. The same trip for her looked like strolling in the park. She has a remarkable sense of balance.
My master didn’t let up on my training. Every day I’m taken to the practice room. The woman who is teaching me, and I still don’t know her name, keeps the sessions mercifully short. I don’t think my feet would last through longer ones. I was proud of what I achieved today though. I could now sit, stand, and walk, with or without the skirt on. I still have to learn how to get up if I tripped and fell. She showed me the technique, how to rise from a kneeling position, but that one still needed some practice. With the skirt on even she had a lot of trouble getting up. Right now if I lost my balance I’d need help, unless there’s a handy chair nearby.
This evening the Wardens put me in a cell with two other women I had not met before. We didn’t talk much. They asked about my sore feet but once I told them my master’s order they dropped the subject. When the lights dimmed we all had to go to our beds and lie quietly, which put an end to the conversation.
I had the answer to one question that had bothered me since the first day. I now knew the identity of my mysterious owner. It explained why that one Warden kept showing up. In hindsight I realized he was checking on me. I rubbed my thumbs, hoping he’d never use those dreadful thumbcuffs again. If only I knew more about him. What was he like?
He relished controlling me; that was a certainty. The intensity of his answer when I asked his intentions still overwhelms me. I’ve never come across a man quite like that before. I’m still trying to sort out how I feel about it, and what I should do. Or to be precise, what can I do? I don’t think I can stop him, or if I even want to.
Why did he put me in that spread position, in those boots? I could guess the answer to that question, fun and games. That was one more item I knew about him. He wouldn’t hesitate to use me as he saw fit. Surprisingly that didn’t bother me at all. In retrospect I wouldn’t mind if he did it again, though I’d be happier without those shoes torturing my feet. And without those awful thumbcuffs; I hoped to never see them again.
Why did he put me in the cage? Lying there in my bed I thought about it. Unlike other men I’d been with, this one didn’t show any hesitation about exercising his power over me. It might well be a case of what I used to call ‘just because’: he put me in there just because he could, and I had no way to prevent it. It had not been a pleasant experience but I felt no resentment against him for doing it. The additional time he added on was my own fault. If anything he had been lenient in not making me wear that gag at the same time.
I ran my fingers over the collar. I couldn’t deny it now. He did own me. He got his wish, he was inside my head. That little voice which used to whisper to me now screamed in my ear if I even came close to doing anything that might earn his disapproval. From the moment I wake up everything I do, even what I’m thinking about, is shaped by what he wants.
I closed my eyes, still touching my collar. That offer to come here had delivered everything it promised, and then some. My doubts were gone, at least concerning my new master. He wasn’t ever going to let up, or go easy on me. Cathy and Paula had warned me; now I had to be perfect. He had demonstrated he wouldn’t tolerate anything less. It was up to me to prove to him I deserved to be his property.
Then there was the question about myself. I had some uncomfortable facts to face about how I felt. He came into my life, took it over, and now I can’t even think about living without him. He was right. It goes beyond mere obedience. We are in a partnership, but one where we both work together to accomplish his goals. And my goals in life? Whatever they were before now, and I really can’t remember, they aren’t relevant any more. What’s important to me now is to be the woman he sees in my future.
I had a newfound appreciation of what being dominated meant. I was now an enthusiastic participant, encouraging him to run my life in any way I can. I know some women like me play those “what if” games. What if he tells you to walk off a cliff? It’s a silly game. He’s never going to recklessly endanger me. I’m his treasure, he’ll never let me go, and that’s my own little bit of security. He has my unconditional trust; I truly believe he will take care of me from now on.
I thought back to that lecture, about synergies. Was I now part of a greater whole? It was easy to define my master’s strengths. His determination to get what he wanted, his intensity when he spoke was overpowering. There was no hesitation, no indecisiveness in the way he acted.
Perhaps that did bring out my strengths too. My willingness, make that my need, to obey him created a harmony between us. His guidance made a better woman of me, and in return I made him a better man by tempering his ferocity, by focusing that raw power on how he can best shape our future together.
Going Home
I didn’t recognize the room where the Warden, and now my master, had taken me. There was another door on the far wall, with a sign warning it was an exit from the secure area. To either side were lockers. Along one wall were a table and two chairs.
A soon as we came in the first door he put me up against the wall. That was nothing unusual. I waited while he closed the door behind us. From the sound I could tell he sat down in one of the chairs but my ears weren’t sharp enough to tell me what he was doing.
I waited, hands cuffed behind my back. I listened intently but couldn’t figure out what was happening. From the glimpse I got coming into the room, it looked like some kind of exit from the secure area to the rest of the Center. Was he going to take me somewhere else, outside the secure area? I knew it did happen on occasion, but there had to be a special reason.
Finally he offered an explanation and with it the best news since I arrived. “Today will end your stay in the secure area. You have exceeded everyone’s expectations, your reports recommend your release, so I’m satisfied you no longer need to remain here. You will be living in our apartment here at the Center from now on. And you need to know, in case anyone asks, you belong to me, Steve Garren.”
If I had permission I’d be jumping up and down, screaming with joy and hugging my master. It was to be my last day. My master was releasing me. I had made it! We would be living in his apartment at the Center. Instead I stared at the wall, hoping this would be the last one I ever studied so closely. It took all my willpower to hold still, but I had that voice in my head, shouting at me this would be the worst possible time to be disobedient. This day of all days I had to be on my best behavior, flawless in every respect.
I heard him open a locker. “I ordered some clothes for you. You can look for more online. Later on we’ll go shopping in the city.” I heard him behind me, going through the locker. Of course, he had to inspect it first, even if he had put everything in there beforehand.
There was no question so I didn’t reply. He came over to me, knelt down and removed the leg irons. When he stood back up he unlocked the handcuffs. I let my arms fall to my side but didn’t move. “You have permission to get dressed.” He turned me around with a hand on my arm.
For the first time in, well, I still didn’t know how long, I was allowed to put on some everyday clothes. Hanging in the locker there was a skirt, a sleeveless blouse, underwear, and my old shoes. Since my original clothes had been destroyed I had nothing left except what he provided for me.
I finally got a good look at the room we were in. Two doors, one marked as the Center side. The other door had a sign that left no doubt as to what lay beyond.
S E C U R E D A R E A
Beyond this point, females are required to:
1) OBEY ALL ORDERS FROM WARDENS
2) REMOVE ALL CLOTHING AND JEWELRY
3) WEAR IDENTIFYING COLLAR
4) BE ESCORTED BY A WARDEN OUTSIDE A ROOM
5) WEAR A CONTROL BELT
6) WEAR RESTRAINTS WHILE BEING ESCORTED BETWEEN ROOMS
No exceptions
The lockers had to be for women who were allowed to move back and forth. Easy enough to enter, but leaving was far more difficult. Conspicuously absent from the sign were any regulations for men. Not that I expected to see any.
Steve sat at the table while I got dressed. He was reading over some paperwork. I wondered if it was about me, but I dare not ask. When I finished I stood still, waiting for his approval. It felt odd to have shoes on, real shoes instead of those toe-crushing boots. The skirt was a bit tight over the chastity belt but nothing like that hobble skirt. Overall the whole combination was conservative enough to be acceptable in an office. Except for the collar around my neck; that would still generate some comments and stares in public. No one would mistake it for a necklace.
“Turn slowly,” he ordered. I did as I was told, gradually spinning around so he could better check my appearance. “Very attractive, I approve,” he said. That was a relief. If he didn’t like it he could easily take the clothes away. Or worse, he could leave me here in the secure area. “Are you ready?”
That was a question so I could answer, “Yes, sir.” I turned to face the wall, hands behind my back, feet slightly apart.
“Restraints won’t be necessary this time. In the future you will keep your arms at your side until I tell you to place them behind your back. You can turn around.”
I dropped my arms and turned to face him. That was another change I’d have to learn. “Yes, sir, I understand.”
It felt like summer vacation after elementary school. That old song ran through my head, “No more pencils, no more books, no more teachers’ dirty looks.” Except my version was more up to date, “No more Wardens, no more walls, no more instructors’ dirty looks.”
Steve unlocked the door. Taking hold of my hand he led me out of the secure area. “Let’s go home.”
Party Time
“You put in quite a bit of work,” Steve began, “so I think you deserve a graduation party.”
I looked up from my book. “Sir?” I asked. I wasn’t sure what he meant.
“Going through the secure area is a lot like going to school. You made it out, you graduated. It’s traditional to have a party to celebrate.” He was sitting in his big easy chair, doing something on his laptop.
I put my book down and sat up on the couch. Out of habit my hands went to sitting position, carefully crossed in my lap. He required my attention. “Yes, sir. It sounds like fun. Is there a room we can use?” The apartment was much too small for parties.
He typed in something on his keyboard. “Yes there are, available in two different sizes. I’m thinking nothing too big, maybe 20 or 30 people tops.” I knew all those people would come from the Center. It would be interesting to meet more of our neighbors.
I start thinking about throwing a party. Decorations, some kind of theme, and then there has to be food. “Sir, what about catering?” I knew from what Steve told me the Center was in the middle of the desert. Given the isolation and the need for both secrecy and security there were no outside services allowed in.
He typed some more. There must be a website for the Center. I didn’t have permission to use a computer yet, but Steve assured me that was temporary. “The cafeteria can handle it, if we give them enough notice to order the food. They can provide the booze too.”
That was the start of my first project since leaving the secure area. Steve gave me permission to manage the arrangements, starting in the morning. I still wasn’t allowed to use a phone so I had to make several trips to the cafeteria to get the catering and decorations ordered. I picked the larger room so there would be space for chairs and serving tables. Then I had to get invitations sent out through email. Steve left everything to me, although I had to get his approval to place the final order with the cafeteria, and he had to send out the email invitations.
Come the day of the party I was so excited. The cafeteria staff had assured me everything was ready, the room was decorated in the high school reunion theme, RSVPs were in from the invitations, and I couldn’t think of anything else to do. I did have to get dressed for it, but I needed Steve’s permission first.
Steve still had his uniform on from his shift in the secure area. He was sitting at the kitchen table, looking over the mail. It seemed like a good time to ask. “Sir?”
He looked up. “What is it?”
“May I get ready for the party? I want to take a shower before doing my hair.” I waited, hoping he would let me start.
“Sure, go ahead. However, you will ask for permission before dressing. Now, clothes off.” I immediately stripped in front of him, as fast as I could. “Display,” he ordered. I put my hands behind my neck, elbows wide, and spread my legs. He took out his keychain, unlocked my belt and placed it on a chair. “Make sure this is clean, too. Take it and your clothes with you.”
I picked up my clothes and the belt, carrying them into the bedroom. First task, as always, was to clean and polish the belt. When I finished I carefully placed it on the bed. He always inspected the belt before putting it on me. Since we were going out tonight I knew I’d be wearing it. He insisted I have it on anytime I left the apartment.
I took my shower, washed my hair and ran the dryer over it. I also ran the brush through it as I did every night. I had never been too good about brushing my hair before but Steve made it mandatory so I never missed a day. When I came out of the bathroom there were several boxes on the bed. He was waiting for me.
For a moment I panicked, thinking I had taken too long. I froze in position, prepared for the worst. Steve saw my reaction, smiled and reassured me. “You’re okay. I have a surprise for you. Come over here.” He pointed to a spot on the floor in front of him.
I let out my breath, relieved I wasn’t in trouble. He put his hands on my shoulders. “I picked something out for you to wear to the party. I know, men have a terrible fashion sense. I won’t argue the point. However, this one time it’s what I want.” That was all I needed to hear. I hoped it wasn’t a burlap sack, or even worse one of those tiny club dresses. I was long past the expiration date to wear something that short and low cut.
“First of all we need to take care of the basics.” He picked up my belt. “Display.”
My hands went behind my head and I spread my legs far apart. I automatically went into that position every time I heard that command now, without even thinking. After he locked the belt in place he gave the waistband an extra tug. He always did that, supposedly to make sure it was secure but I think it was to remind me I had it on. He put a hand under my chin and lifted my head so I could look at him. “You know, I never get tired of seeing you in that thing. I don’t know how you do it. It has to take some effort on your part to tolerate it. I want you to know it’s worth it. Come here.”
In an instant I was in his arms. I loved his big arms around me, holding me tight. I’d wear that chastity belt day and night for the next ten years if it’s what he wanted.
He let go of me. “Here’s what you’re wearing tonight.” He opened the first box. Inside was a sheer silk blouse, a light pink in color. It shimmered in the light when he picked it up. He put it down on the bed. “You will leave the top two buttons open.”
“Yes, sir.” It was sleeveless, to show off my shoulders. I learned quickly he had a preference for bare arms. He let me pick out my clothes, but everything had to be approved by him before I could place an order. He didn’t hesitate to reject my choices either, which left me with a very limited wardrobe. He decided I would only be allowed a skirt and blouse during the day, but if we were going out he gave me more leeway, permitting me to either choose a dress or skirt. As for length he was very specific. Just above the knee for the skirt, but I could go a little higher, or lower, on the dress.
The next box held that familiar black hobble skirt. I looked at the last box. I knew exactly what was inside it.
When he took out the ballet boots I wasn’t surprised at all. So this was the reason for all that work in the practice room. This really would be a graduation party tonight, with the final exam thrown in.
I can do this, I told myself. All I had to do was remember what I’d learned. I looked up at Steve. “Go ahead,” he said, “what is it you want to say?”
I took a deep breath. “Sir, will you help me tonight? May I hold onto your arm, at least until we get there? And if it’s convenient, maybe you could help me circulate? I’m not sure I can do this by myself.”
He stroked my hair. “Of course I’ll help you. I want you to show everyone what you’ve learned. You’ll be the center of attention.”
He left me alone while I got ready. The skirt and blouse didn’t look bad, maybe a little on the retro side. All I needed were gloves and one of those pillbox hats to wind the clock back to 1962. At least the belt didn’t show through.
All that was left were those boots. I sat on the bed, looking at them. This was going to be a marathon session tonight. I picked one up and unzipped it. There was no point in putting it off any longer. The hobble skirt kept my knees close together so I had to lean over to put the boot on. The second one followed. I was already looking forward to getting home tonight so I could get Steve’s permission to take them off.
Then it hit me, what if he didn’t give me permission? No, I didn’t want to go there. Bad attitude, my little voice told me, get back inside your box. Whatever he decided would be best for me.
I stood up, ready to go. I took a minute to get my balance, walking on carpet was tricky. I remembered my instructor’s advice: look for islands. The doorway was the first, and out in the living room there was the couch and his chair. I plotted my course and began navigating toward my destination where I could dock at the back of the couch.
The Chariot
Steve was sitting in his easy chair when Lenora came out of the bedroom. She was a sight, balancing on those shoes. He had a newfound appreciation for all the work she’d done. She made her way from the bedroom door to the back of the couch. He watched in appreciation, particularly the attractive way her legs and hips moved under the tight confines of her skirt.
“Sir, as you can see I can’t walk very fast. May we leave early so I’ll have extra time to get to the party room?” He saw in her face that she was genuinely concerned. Of course, he could let her remove the boots and walk there in her bare feet. She didn’t ask, just as well since he had no intention of letting her take them off. Normally the two of them could easily walk to the party room, but this wasn’t a normal case.
Steve checked his watch. The solution should be arriving shortly. He wasn’t going to make her walk that far, it would be cruel. He smiled, knowing she would be riding in style. “Not to worry, I’ve made other arrangements.” She looked relieved, but curious as to what he meant. He didn’t elaborate. She would find out momentarily.
“Sir?” She looked a question at me. That was her way of hinting that she wanted to know. At that moment the doorbell rang. She wouldn’t have to wait long for an answer.
“Perfect timing,” he told her. He held up a hand. “Stay right there, don’t move. Your chariot has arrived.” Naturally she had no idea what he was talking about. That was something else he enjoyed seeing, her mystified expression when he let slip some tantalizing bit of information.
Steve opened the apartment door. Joe, a fellow Warden he met on his first day, was outside. “Here you go, Steve. Bring it back when you’re finished. I’ll see you later at the party.”
Lenora’s eyes were wide, watching him closely when he wheeled in the restraint chair. She still had one hand on the back of the couch, to steady herself. “I anticipated your difficulties. You can relax while I drive.”
She looked the chair over. “Does it turn into a pumpkin at midnight, sir?”
Steve laughed. “You sit down. I’ll do the rest. Not to worry, my Cinderella, we don’t have to rush out at midnight. And you will not lose one of your slippers.” He gestured for her to sit while holding out his hand to help her into the chair.
“This was my second choice,” he told her. “My first thought was to simply throw you over my shoulder, caveman style, and carry you to the party hall. But then I’d have to carry you home too, and who knows if I’ll be that steady on my feet.”
“This is fine, sir,” she said hastily. “I wouldn’t want you to sprain your shoulder on my account.” Steve figured she didn’t care for the idea of seeing the world go by hanging upside down.
Steve laughed, “Okay, you get comfortable and I’ll strap you in. For your own safety, of course.” She sat down, smoothing her skirt to keep it from sliding up. It was a little awkward getting those high heels on the foot stand but she managed. “Good, now your arms go on the armrests.” She unfolded her hands and put an arm on each rest. Steve secured the straps on her wrists and elbows. Next he fastened the torso straps, two over her shoulders, one across her waist and one across her thighs. “Not too tight?”
“I’m fine, sir.” She was examining her arms, testing the straps. Steve knelt down to fasten the straps around her boots. More straps went across her lower legs and knees.
He stood up, examining his work. “How’s that? Anywhere it’s too tight, or too loose?” She twisted her hands, trying to free herself.
“No sir, it all seems to be in place.” She looked up at him. “I can’t move, sir.”
Steve checked one more time. He would have been surprised if she could move around. That restraint chair was well designed. He took the head harness off the hook in the back of the chair. Putting a hand under her chin he turned her head left and right. She tensed but didn’t protest when he opened the harness straps.
“No, on second thought this won’t be necessary.” He tossed the harness on the couch. Steve never intended to use it, but it didn’t hurt to keep her guessing. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Okay, you wait here while I change my clothes, then we’ll go. We should have plenty of time to get there before any of our guests arrive.”
Out for a Ride
I dreaded the long walk to the party hall. Steve’s reaction when I asked him for extra time left me puzzled, but I was relieved he had already thought about it. I would be spending considerable time on my feet, or rather my toes, tonight. Whatever he had in mind, and I couldn’t figure out what he was going to do, had to be better than sore feet before the party even started.
I was discreetly docked at one of my islands, one hand on the back of the couch. I jumped when the doorbell rang. The moment Steve wheeled in that chair I knew exactly what he had in mind. In hindsight it was obvious, what better way to get me there and back? In the real world he’d never get away with it, except maybe a Halloween costume party. At the Center no one would think twice about it.
I took his hand to steady myself as I sat down. For the second time I found myself in one of the restraint chairs. The seat, back and armrests were padded so it wasn’t uncomfortable. There was another padded area behind my legs, below the knee. I lifted up to straighten my skirt and slide back as far as I could.
Once I was ready he started with my arms. One strap went around each wrist, and a second set held my elbows against the back of the armrest. Straps from behind the chair went over my shoulders. There was a large waist belt too, which fit tightly over my chastity belt. Another strap went across my thighs. He finished off with my ankles, pulling taut a strap around each boot. More straps went across my legs below and above the knee.
Steve asked me to check to make sure I was held securely. I squirmed, trying to slip out a wrist or maybe pull free a foot. He did his job too well, below the neck I was stuck to the chair. He was very thorough when he wanted me helpless. His alternative, arriving with me over his shoulder, was not appealing in the least. I’d take the chair over that undignified means of transportation anytime.
I was to wait while he dressed. That was some of his humor. He had a guarantee I would be exactly where he left me when he came back. I did get a reprieve of sorts, he left my head free. I was sure he would finish the job with that harness but for some reason he relented at the last minute.
I made use of my limited freedom to take a closer look at my little prison. Out of curiosity I twisted a wrist in the web loop, trying to reach around to the buckle. I could turn my hand but the buckle was out of reach of my fingers. Even if I had a key to open it I couldn’t free myself. I couldn’t see my legs but a quick test confirmed I couldn’t move either one. For one final test I tried shifting my weight, to see if I could get the chair to move.
It didn’t budge. I knew there was a brake on the wheels from what I’d seen when they were handling Laura. These chairs were designed to hold violent men more than twice my size, so it made sense I had no chance to escape. I was satisfied my master had me under control. I leaned my head back against the headrest and relaxed, waiting for Steve to return.
It didn’t take him long to get ready. He looked nice in a casual suit. It was the one I suggested he wear. Maybe I had no say, or very little, over my own wardrobe, but in return I got to pick his clothes. As long as he agreed to it, my little voice reminded me. That was the one crucial difference.
“Anything else before we go?” Steve asked. He picked up my purse and hung it from the chair handle on the back. That was my only question, and he answered it. I would be allowed to take a purse after all. I didn’t really need it but it was traditional.
“No sir, I’m ready.” As ready as I can be, I thought to myself. Much like the rest of my life now I had little or no idea of what to expect. In a very literal way I had to depend on Steve to watch over me. I wasn’t too concerned though. These people were my real peer group, men and women like myself who had a different and sharply defined view of respective roles.
He released the brake on the chair and turned me around toward the door. It was a small consolation but this was a rare occasion where I didn’t have to inspect a wall while he opened a door for me. Out in the corridor I again had the luxury of sitting, but he did turn me away from the door so I couldn’t see him. That was typical for a Warden, I told myself. They develop habits too, like the way they automatically try to minimize what we see. Even though I was released from the secure area Steve still kept close control over my access to the outside world.
We were on our way. Compared to what I was used to, the corridors in this part of the Center were much nicer. They were carpeted, there were signs at intersections and doors had either numbers or names on them. I saw one of the red stop signs for corridors where unescorted females were forbidden. Steve had told me about that. We might not be in the secure area but women were still not allowed to leave the Center without permission. He would have to escort me past the guards at the exit. If I were ever found in one of those marked corridors on my own I’d be in serious trouble.
We passed a few other people on the way. No one remarked on my chair though I did see some lingering glances. When we arrived at the party room Steve brought me in through the front entrance. It was perfect, decorations, tables and chairs, a wet bar set up in the corner and a place for serving trays. I looked up at Steve, standing next to me. “The cafeteria did a great job, sir.”
He rested a hand on my shoulder. “I think so too. It should be quite a party, thanks to the work you put into it. I’ll check on the food.” He went through the rear door, leaving me in the middle of the room.
I really wanted to walk around and check on the preparations myself. Since I was the hostess I was responsible for ensuring everyone had a good time. But he had left me in the chair so there wasn’t much I could do. In frustration I pulled at the straps on my wrists. It was a futile gesture. I had to settle with twisting my head left and right, trying to take in as much as possible.
Steve came back. “They just about have everything ready.’ He stood in front of me, a smile on his face, enjoying my predicament. “You’d like out of there, wouldn’t you?” He enjoyed asking that question. It emphasized how much I had to rely on him.
It really was a rhetorical question. Of course I wanted out, but I couldn’t phrase my reply in blunt terms. When you have nothing to negotiate with subtlety is all that’s left. “That’s your choice, sir.” Which it was, there was no way I could get out of the chair on my own. If he wanted to leave me in this thing the rest of the night I’d have to make the best of it.
He knelt down to start with the straps on my legs. I held still, waiting for him to finish. He saved my wrists for last. When I was finally free of the restraints he held out his hands to help me up. And that reminded me I still had on those boots. The thumbcuffs moved down to second on my list of things I would prefer never to see again.
Luckily I had hold of Steve’s arm to steady myself. He led me over to one of the tables, where I held onto the back of a chair. “I’m okay, sir. I needed a moment for my legs to recover.” I let go of the chair to demonstrate I could stand on my own.
He took my chariot, as he called it, into the back room so it would be out of the way. I started to make a circuit of the room to check the preparations. When Steve came back he stopped me with a hand on my arm.
“Before the guests arrive, here are your party rules.” When he spoke like that it required immediate attention. He had a stern, serious expression. “You may not leave the room without permission. You may speak freely but be respectful and do not interrupt when a man is talking, even if he’s making a fool of himself.” I smiled at that one. “You may speak to other men on your own, but if you are with me, wait for permission. And if I motion for you to come to me, you will do so immediately. You do not require permission to sit, stand or eat. Is that clear?”
It wasn’t too different from my normal rules. I didn’t have to stay with him, but I did have to keep an eye on where he was. It did feel strange knowing I could go to a table without asking first. “Yes sir, I understand. If I may, I will have to sit down often.”
“Of course, whenever you need to rest.” He held me at arm’s length. “I want you to enjoy the party. Meet the people here, make some friends. I don’t want you to feel isolated while we’re living at the Center.”
Party Time
It didn’t take long for our guests to start arriving. I made a point of welcoming everyone as they came in, meeting them at the door. The catering people brought out the food, and the bar began serving drinks. I got permission from Steve for a glass of wine. It had been a long time. Even though he had told me I could help myself I felt better asking him.
Steve wasn’t the only one who kept his property under close control. The woman who had been teaching me how to walk in the ballet boots came in with her master. Steve introduced me. I finally learned her name, Maria. I found out talking to her later she didn’t know my name either. What was interesting is that she came in with her hands behind her back. Her master released her as soon as she was in the room. I felt better knowing I wasn’t the only one subject to a master’s whim.
Three times women came up to me to ask about my shoes. I sent them over to Maria since she was the expert. Steve got that right; it did make me the center of attention. I drew a lot of stares when I walked around.
The biggest event of the evening for me was seeing Laura arrive with her master. I found out she had just been released from the secure area the day before. I could tell she was nervous, from the way she kept watching her master. I didn’t know what had happened to bring her to the Center, and it would be impolite to ask. Whatever the reason, I suspected she was out on parole with the threat of an immediate return to the secure area hanging over her head.
While mixing with the guests I ran into Maria again. “I bet you’d like to sit down,” she suggested. “How about we use that empty table over there?” She pointed toward a table in the corner. I quickly scanned the room to locate Steve so I’d know where he was, before making my way to the table.
“So now we know the reason behind the sessions,” Maria started, as soon as we sat down. “How are you doing?”
Out of habit I sat in position, hands in my lap. Maria leaned back in her chair, one arm on the table, her hand around the drink glass. “I’d give anything to get these boots off, but otherwise no problems so far. At least I haven’t fallen on the floor.” I checked again to see if Steve had moved.
“You seem to have started a small fashion trend. My master tells me I will be holding more sessions in the near future. I hope those women realize they have to go through the secure area to get to the practice room. It’s the only one in the Center.”
I nodded. Some of them would be in for a surprise if her master ordered training. There are no exceptions for females in the secure area; the same rules apply to all women regardless of the reason for being there. “Careful what you wish for? For the moment my master is satisfied with me practicing on my own.” Which was true; I did practice in those boots about every other day. “I have a strong incentive to keep to the practice schedule too, considering the alternative.” I did not want to go back to the secure area, even for a short visit.
At that moment Maria crossed her ankles. I looked around, fearful someone might see her. Steve had been clear on prohibiting me from even crossing my ankles, much less my legs. In the secure area punishment was swift and assured if we were ever caught sitting that way. I leaned over and whispered to her, “Maria, quick, you crossed your ankles!”
She didn’t seem to be concerned about it. I got a quizzical look from her. I looked around again, certain one of the men would have seen her by now. “Relax, Lenora, I have permission,” she told me. “I’m not in trouble. This isn’t the secure area, different rules here. My master allows me quite a bit of freedom. I gather you still have to follow the straight and narrow?”
Of course her master would have his own guidelines for her. I should know better. “Yes, I’m sure you know my Steve is a Warden. He makes a few allowances but overall not much has changed. I apologize, but if Steve ever saw me do that…” I didn’t want to think about what would happen. He’d be furious, and worse, disappointed in me.
That’s when I saw Steve raise his hand and wave at me.
Even Such a Woman
Steve watched Lenora navigate across the room, as fast as possible given her limitations. When she arrived he held out his arm for her. She took it in both hands, a look of silent thanks on her face.
“Yes, sir?” she asked. “Do you need something? Can I get a beer for you?”
“No, I’m fine,” he answered. “We were talking about that Shakespeare play, and the famous monologue at the end. You know which one I mean? Where the husbands call for their wives at a party?” She recognized some of the men talking with Steve, other Wardens.
“Indeed I do know it, sir, by heart. You mean The Taming of the Shrew, one of the Bard’s comedies.” She paused, checking to see if she should continue. Steve nodded his permission.
“At the end, the men bet they can summon their wives from the main hall at a party. None of the others succeed, leaving Petruchio the last one to try his luck. His wife is the infamous Katharina, the foul tempered shrew he tricked into marrying him to get her rich dowry. He sends a page to summon her, and then he waits, and waits.
“At the last moment she bursts through the doors, dragging the other wives behind her. That’s when she delivers those lines I love.” She looked up at Steve, to see if he wanted to hear them.
“It’s a classic,” Steve added, “and so politically incorrect I’m surprised it hasn’t been banned from universities. Go ahead.”
Lenora took a deep breath and let go of Steve’s arm. “The part I love the best is:
Such duty as the subject owes the prince,
Even such a woman oweth to her husband;
And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour,
And not obedient to his honest will,
What is she but a foul contending rebel
And graceless traitor to her loving lord?
I am ashamed that women are so simple
To offer war where they should kneel for peace,
Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway,
When they are bound to serve, love, and obey.”
Lenora paused to catch her breath. “The end is the most beautiful:
Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,
That seeming to be most which we indeed least are.
Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot,
And place your hands below your husband's foot,
In token of which duty, if he please,
My hand is ready, may it do him ease.”
With great difficulty she bent one knee and extended her hand to Steve. Bursting with pride he took her hand to help her rise. He pulled her to his side, put an arm around her waist, and leaned down to kiss her. “Don’t try the kneeling trick again,” he whispered in her ear. “That ending would be much less dignified delivered with you face down on the floor. You did yourself, and me, proud.”
Lenora couldn’t help but laugh, even as she clung to her master.
Winding Down
I could tell it was getting late. Most of our guests had left, the catering people had gone home, and I was dead tired with sore, aching feet making it worse. Steve came over to the table where I was sitting and said, “It’s time we went home. Your chariot awaits, madam.” He held out his hand.
I took it and stood up. My toes were ready to fall off. The sooner I got those boots off the better. I followed him into the back room where he had left the restraint chair. I sat down, ready for the ride home. There was no way I could walk back to the apartment, so it was either the chair or his alternative, me slung over his shoulder.
He released the brake and started toward the door. “Sir!” I almost yelled. He stopped, looking down at me. “Please sir, you haven’t strapped me in.” He might be tired but he still had responsibilities. If I had to ride in this chair I wanted it done right. I did not want to be seen in public unless he had me properly secured. “Remember sir,” I pointed out, “you said it was for my own safety.”
He came around to get a better look at me. “You’re right, what was I thinking?” He started with my wrists, then the straps across my body, and finally he locked down my legs. “There, is that better?”
I put an extra effort into trying to work free. If I had to be perfect then he had to do his part too. “Yes sir, I can’t move. I’m ready to go home now.”
He stood there, arms folded, looking me over. “You might want to think twice next time about demanding I restrain you. It’s easy enough to get into that thing, but I think you will find it somewhat more complicated to reverse the process. You know, I don’t have to return the chair until I go to work. If you like being in there so much, maybe you’d like to spend the night?”
I counted on him saying something like that. I had my reply ready. Maybe I wasn’t allowed to bargain, but I still had an offer he couldn’t refuse. “Of course sir, if you think it best. Although, you would be deprived of a warm, soft, compliant woman to keep you company in bed tonight. I regret causing you to forego your own comfort just so I can spend some quality time in my favorite easy chair.” I look up at him with an innocent expression. Maybe I was pushing the edge but I wasn’t too worried.
Steve shook his head, muttered something about being painted into a corner, grabbed the chair handles, released the brake and steered me toward the door. I wasn’t too concerned about being left in the chair overnight. He might be stubborn but I was learning how to be persuasive.
The Job Offer
I was curled up on the couch, pretending to read a magazine but actually watching Steve sitting at the kitchen table, sorting through some paperwork. I had no idea what he was working on. I knew from casual conversation he was some kind of investor. I enjoyed seeing him at work, comparing statements, entering something in his laptop, and then going back to the papers again.
My own background was in accounting, though I knew something about finance too. It can be tedious at times, getting everything to balance. We didn’t discuss money. Steve had assured me I was taken care of if anything happened to him. Otherwise I had no idea about his finances, net worth or his holdings. That’s the way he wanted it. He explained that it was his responsibility to take care of me, and to provide for me. Part of that included me not worrying about it.
I had to admit my life now was vastly simplified. My biggest concern was I might do something to displease him. I was very careful about that. In most other respects he’d taken over my life to the point where I literally didn’t have a care in the world. If I wanted something I did have to ask, but in most cases he agreed. But not always, there were occasions when he turned me down. Most of the time I got an explanation, which helped me understand why he denied me, but there were a few instances where he refused to provide any details, even to the point of ordering me not to pursue it further.
One time I asked him about my credit cards. I didn’t have a large balance on any of them but I also had no way to pay them. Steve informed me they were taken care of as soon as I arrived at the Center. He had taken over all of my personal finances from that point. The few assets I had, including my bank account, were transferred to other accounts under his control. In a very real sense I did not have a single penny to my name.
The way he explained it to me, I didn’t need my own money anymore because I was supposed to depend on him for everything. He made no secret of his intention that I should be reliant on him, and he would take whatever steps he deemed necessary to keep me that way. I worried that he took too much on himself but he just laughed and assured me it was no burden at all.
“You know, if you want to learn surveillance techniques, the first lesson is to turn the pages every so often.” He looked up at me. I had been so intent on studying him I hadn’t turned a page in ten minutes.
“You caught me fair and square, sir.” I sat up straight, both feet precisely aligned on the floor, put the magazine down and folded my hands in my lap. He gave me that familiar Warden inspection look, making sure I was in proper position. He required perfection; I wasn’t there yet but one way I did meet his demands was to sit and stand properly. He never corrected me, because it wasn’t necessary.
“I have some news for you,” he started. That immediately got my full attention. “Tomorrow morning you will accompany me to the Accounting department. At the party the head of Center finances, Ken Sorensen, asked if I might agree to you doing some work for his office. He’s chronically shorthanded, especially when it comes to accounting skills. From what he told me you are well-qualified for the position he has in mind. We’ll meet with him and if it works out you will start right away.”
Steve loved to pull surprises like this on me. One minute I’m not reading a magazine, the next I have a job interview. I didn’t miss the way he worded it either. He would decide if I took the job, not me.
“Yes, sir,” I answered. I did like the idea. I didn’t have that much to do around the apartment. It got lonely when he was out on his shift as a Warden. I wondered if there was anything else he had neglected to tell me. Much as I’d like to know in advance what’s going on, especially when I’m involved, in the end it was up to Steve to choose what I needed to know. That was one of the more difficult adjustments I had to make, trusting him to manage what information got to me.
I still have trouble getting used to the idea that someone else runs my life now. He could be irritating at times but overall I found myself relying on him more and more. Maybe I was getting lazy, or maybe I just enjoyed a stress-free life. Either way I did trust his judgement. If he thought I should take the job then I’d do the best I could.
I didn’t have too much time to worry about the interview. The next morning came all too quickly. Steve must have seen how nervous I was because right after breakfast he began setting tasks for me. When he does that I have to focus on him first.
“Now, this is what you will do.” I pushed aside worries about how I’d do at the interview. When he spoke in that tone he had my undivided attention. “You will take your shower and get cleaned up. I’ll pick something for you to wear. When you are ready we will go directly to the accounting office. I’ll talk to Ken first. After that I’ll bring you in for the interview. I’ll be with you at all times. Any questions?”
He did make life easy for me. I knew exactly what to do now. “No, sir, no questions,” I answered. I did feel better knowing he would be there. Oddly enough, the fact that Steve would decide if I accepted a job offer took away most of my anxiety. All I had to do was demonstrate I knew the procedures. I was good at what I did; technical questions should be easy.
I didn’t even have to worry about what to wear. When I came out of the bathroom he had laid out on the bed a nice looking skirt and blouse combination well-suited for a professional office. Solid colors, a conservative knee length hemline, it was something I’d pick out myself. Naturally before I started he put the belt on me. He expected me to wear it whenever we were outside the apartment. As long as I wore a skirt, or a dress that wasn’t too tight, I could get away with the belt not showing underneath. I’d never get away with jeans or a pantsuit, but since Steve wouldn’t allow me to wear either one it wasn’t a problem.
While I dressed I watched him change into his Warden’s uniform. Seeing him all in black, with the polished boots, his duty belt loaded with those handcuffs in the back, well, it pushed a lot of buttons in my head. When we left I had to suppress an urge to face the wall and put my hands behind my back. He was taking me where I needed to be. I felt like I was back in the secure area, being escorted to the next class.
When we got to Accounting I waited in the outer office while Steve talked to the department head. It wasn’t a large operation; I counted three women sitting at desks either going through paperwork or entering data into a computer. All three looked up at me when I was alone but no one said anything. I was surprised to see they all wore uniforms.
The door to the inner office opened and Steve waved at me to come in. I assumed that meant he was satisfied with the job conditions, so all that remained was the question of my qualifications. Steve introduced me before I sat down. The first question was about my background.
“Well, sir, I’ve worked with quantitative analysis in managing short and long term investments using different models based on risk assessment. I’m not a mathematician or a programmer, I can’t build a model based on stochastic calculus from scratch, but I know how to extract the data needed to run existing models. I’m very good at spotting the signs of a pump-and-dump operation.” That wasn’t an exaggeration. At my last job twice I’d saved the company from a high-flying investment that suddenly crashed.
He asked tough questions but I had the answers. Through the whole interview Steve sat back, arms folded, watching me, never saying a word.
When he finished it was anticlimactic. “No question in my mind, you know your field. Steve, Lenora is exactly what we need right now. Can she join our team?”
It was strange, sitting right there next to Steve listening to them discuss me as if I wasn’t in the room. This was something unique to the Center. There was an ingrained assumption that he would be the decision maker, and I would simply accept the result. For the first time I saw exactly what it meant to wear a collar, at least in the Center. When we were together it would be Steve in front of me, figuratively if not literally, the buffer between me and the rest of the world. Maybe I was setting Women’s Rights back a few thousand years but I liked it.
“I think it’s a great idea. I suppose there’s no reason she can’t begin immediately.” Steve turned to me. “Is there anything you need to do before starting?” His ability to make snap decisions was amazing. I’d agonize over accepting the job for days, and then take a week before starting. With him in charge it was a done deal in less than an hour.
“No, sir, I can start now.” He hadn’t given me any assignments, and I had nothing planned for today. That was one of his qualities that made Steve so attractive. Once he made up his mind he moved forward at breakneck speed, without any hesitation or second thoughts. I could never do that.
Mr. Sorenson, the department head, stood up and gestured toward the office door. “I’ll turn you over to Elena, the office manager. She’ll get Lenora set up with a place to work and explain our procedures. Good to see you again, Steve, and thanks for bringing Lenora to us.” The two men shook hands. Steve steered me out of the office with one hand on my arm.
In the outer office one of the women immediately came over to us. “This is Elena. She manages the personnel side of the office. There are a few forms for Lenora to fill out, and I hope we can find some space around here for her to work. I’ll leave you to it.” Mr. Sorenson went back into his office.
“Good morning, sir,” Elena began. “To start, I’ll need to order some uniforms for Lenora.” There it was again, going to Steve first instead of me. I’d have to remember to do the same, now that I’d be dealing with our unique version of the public.
“The uniform is a department policy?” Steve asked.
“Yes, sir. If I may explain, we do deal with the public, at least our little community in the Center,” Elena replied. “We want anyone coming in to immediately recognize an employee, so we are issued uniforms.” That explained the clothes. “We can obtain something in Lenora’s size in a few days. We do ask for a neat and clean appearance to maintain a professional image.” I happened to agree with that. “Until then she can wear anything appropriate for the office.”
“If you’ll excuse me, sir, I’ll go clear a desk off for Lenora so she can start on the paperwork. I’ll be back in a moment.” At Steve’s nod of dismissal she went to the back of the office to find me a desk.
He turned to face me, hands on my shoulders. “I believe this is a good opportunity for you. The work can be challenging but not all-consuming. You have the skills to do well here. I expect you to put them to good use.” His expression turned serious. I knew what was coming next, his rules for the office.
“You have permission to use the phone and computer but only for work. While in the office you are allowed to talk to other men, as long as it’s in a professional capacity. You may visit the cafeteria for lunch. When you finish for the day you will go directly home.
“While at work Mr. Sorenson is in charge; you will act accordingly. You will report to him when you arrive in the morning, you will ask permission to go to lunch, you will report to him when you get back. And you will ask permission before leaving for the day. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir. “ When Steve gave me instructions like those he does cover the details. I only had one question. “Will I be home before you?” I didn’t even know what my work hours were to be.
Steve nodded. “Yes, you’ll be home first. Most days I’ll run about an hour later, unless it gets busy. Shifts can be unpredictable at times.”
Elena came back for me, so Steve left for the secure area. I followed her over to what would be my little cubbyhole. I was excited at the prospect of being allowed to use a computer again. I was mindful of the limits Steve insisted on but even so, if I were assigned a research project, I’d have considerable leeway in what I could search on.
First Day on the Job
Besides Elena, the office manager, there were two other women. I was introduced to the auditor, Mei Lin, from China but she spoke excellent English; and Andrea, who did data entry. Elena was our bookkeeper. My position was to be a financial analyst, looking at cash flow, asset management and all those dull details no one cared about until the cash management accounts came up with huge losses from supposedly blue chip bonds that suddenly drop to junk status.
The morning went fast. Mr. Sorenson brought me a stack of reports to study. He wanted a risk assessment of three different short term cash account offers from brokers. I made steady progress, though it would take a week to investigate the companies behind the offers. Finally I had an excuse to use the Internet to get caught up on the news. I did have to be careful to stay within what Steve ordered but still do my due diligence in evaluating the sales pitches.
At lunchtime Elena came out of the inner office. She informed me Mr. Sorenson had given his approval for me to go to lunch. The others were already getting up. Both of them gave me an odd look. It appeared to me that I was the only one who required permission.
We all went to the cafeteria to eat. Sitting at the table the conversation naturally turned to me as the newcomer. When they found out I arrived at the Center through the secure area the questions really started. That’s when I discovered all three of them had moved to the Center with their masters. Because of the secrecy, what went on in the secure area was a great mystery and the source of endless speculation.
Most of the questions I couldn’t answer. Steve had been very explicit in explaining the importance of not discussing details of the program. I had to apologize with the excuse that I wasn’t permitted to discuss anything directly related to operations. That was another unique aspect about living at the Center. Once I told them I wasn’t allowed they all knew exactly what that meant, and didn’t try to get more out of me.
It didn’t stop the questions though. Andrea took a different approach. “How did it change you, Lenora before versus Lenora afterwards?” That one took some consideration. I didn’t see a problem in answering it since I wouldn’t have to reveal any details.
“Ever hear that expression, I was lost but now I’m found?” It was from an old gospel song, Amazing Grace, a favorite of mine. “I was lost in the sense that I had no direction in life. I was treading water, just getting by day to day. Something was missing but I couldn’t figure out what it was.
“All that changed in an instant. Here I was, at the Center, the property of a man I didn’t even know. He took everything away from me, my freedom, even control over my own body. That’s what changed me, the moment I discovered it was exactly what I needed.” I touched my collar with one hand. “He owns me now, with my enthusiastic cooperation. That’s what I was lacking, someone who would come into my life and take it over, without even asking me.”
All three of my co-workers stared at me in disbelief. It must have been something I said, but I didn’t know what it might be. It was Elena, our supervisor, who finally broke the silence.
“You…” She hesitated. “You weren’t asked? You mean you encouraged him in some way and he assumed it was what you wanted?”
Now I saw their confusion. “Oh no, nothing like that. Steve, that’s my master, he doesn’t ask, he takes. He saw me, he wanted me, he had me brought here so I’d be under his direct control. He didn’t bother with my agreement. That was what was missing, for me. I didn’t realize it at the time but what I really wanted was for a man to force me to obey him, to serve him, to be his property. Somehow, and I still don’t know what he did, Steve figured it out. So here I am.”
Andrea added her own question. “But you still have limits, ones you set? You can end the relationship if it doesn’t work out?”
I shook my head. “No, his authority is absolute. I have a duty to obey him, whether I like it or not. The only limits are the restrictions he imposes on me. As for ending it, I suppose I could ask to leave, but I can’t see how Steve would agree to it. He has a very possessive nature.”
Mei Lin had been quiet for most of the lunchtime conversation. She finally asked a question too. “You would not walk away, if you had the opportunity, outside the Center?”
That was an easy one. I’d thought about it myself. “No, I’d never do that. For one thing, I’d need his permission first, and I’m sure he’d never give it. There are practical considerations too. I might not have this collar on, if we were in public, but I’d still have the chastity belt on and no key to get out of it. And I’d have nowhere to go, no money, no resources of my own. I wouldn’t get very far before he came after me. And when he caught me I’d be back in the secure area for a long time.” I didn’t even want to think about the punishment I’d face for running away.
My reply produced another round of incredulous looks around the table. They lived in the Center, they knew the rules, so nothing I said should be unexpected. Andrea broke the silence this time. “He makes you wear a chastity belt, a real one?”
That question made me realize using a belt wasn’t a common practice outside the secure area. They were curious because they knew nothing about it. I had assumed life at the Center outside the secure area wasn’t all that different, except for a little more freedom and more pleasant surroundings. Now I understood I was wrong; only a small percentage of women on this side had experienced the intense control in place on the other side.
I shrugged. The chastity belt was no big deal. “Yes, it’s real, made of steel, around my waist and between my legs, and it’s kept in place with a sturdy lock. I’m required to wear it any time I’m outside our apartment.” I put my hands around the waistband, covered by my skirt. “It’s right here. He puts it on me before he goes to work in the morning. He takes it off when he comes home at night; most of the time, anyway. If he decides he wants me to keep it on there’s not much I can do about it.” There were a few occasions when he left it on all night. He never explained why, and I didn’t ask. Either he forgot, doubtful since it was obvious I had it on when we went to bed, or he wanted to remind me he was in charge. I rarely thought about the belt now, since I’d been wearing it on a daily basis for so long.
“Isn’t it uncomfortable? Why don’t you take it off during the day?” That was Andrea again. Apparently she wasn’t aware of how a belt worked.
“It’s not difficult to wear, once you get used to it. It can dig into your waist when you bend over, and sitting down takes some adjustment. I can’t take it off; Steve’s the only one who has a key. If I could remove it then there wouldn’t be any point in wearing it in the first place.” It was his responsibility to oversee my belt, not me. “He has the right to control me in any way he wishes, especially in a sexual way. If I had the key it would deny him that right.” Maybe that was only overzealous dedication from the newly converted speaking, but I did have strong opinions on both my obligations to Steve and the way he exercised his power over me. It would bother me if he didn’t insist I wear the belt in public.
Elena shook her head. “Wow, I’m not sure I could handle something like that. To wear it all day long…no, I don’t think I’d agree to something like that.” From her expression Andrea didn’t much care for the idea either. I hoped they’d never have to visit the secure area. There’s a reason belts have locks; it stays on regardless of personal preference.
I didn’t say anything but her reaction irritated me. It wasn’t up to her to decide. The Center was a place where female submission to male dominance was unquestioned. To imply she had the right to refuse was disrespectful to the whole concept. But, to each her own.
Maybe it was a cultural difference, but Mei Lin did get my point. “I would do it. If he asked me I would agree. I wouldn’t like it, but it is his choice to make, not mine.”
“If you are allowed to answer, did your master force you to go to the secure area?” That was Mei Lin again.
“No, he didn’t.” Which was true but neglected the fact that kidnapping me was his backup plan. “Strange as it sounds, I came on my own. I can’t go into the details, though I can tell you it’s not a common occurrence.” And it was the last time I’d volunteer to go there. Maybe Paula enjoyed her visits but I did not look forward to a return trip.
“What if he wants you to go back again?” Mei Lin seemed to be the most curious. “Would you refuse?”
“No, I’d never refuse. I do my best to make sure he won’t have a reason to send me back.” That question zeroed in on one of those nagging worries I can never quite push away. I was well aware just how easy it would be for him to put me back in the secure area. If it did happen I’d go with the knowledge it wasn’t my fault. I worked very hard to keep to all his rules, and I never, ever disobeyed him.
“I don’t think it will happen. I trust him to make the right choices for me. I can’t imagine what it would be, but if he saw the need then I’d reluctantly go. Although, if any of us are sent there we don’t really have much say in the matter. Any woman at the Center might find herself dragged away on a minute’s notice. In practical terms, there isn’t much we can do about it if they take us away. We can’t get out of here on our own, and the Wardens are much bigger and stronger than us.” As Steve pointed out to me, in here men could do whatever they wanted with the women they owned.
All three of them seemed surprised when I pointed out the obvious. Maybe they hadn’t realized the relative freedom they now enjoyed could be stripped away so quickly. I had no such illusions. I didn’t think Steve would arbitrarily send me back, but I understood the possibility existed. It was up to me to ensure he had no reason to change his mind.
It was Andrea’s turn next. “I noticed you got permission to leave for lunch. The rest of us don’t have to do that. We can leave any time. Why does Mr. Sorenson single you out?” I noticed that too. I was shocked when the other simply stood up and announced they were going to eat, without asking. I’d never do something like that unless I was on my own and, of course, if it didn’t violate any rules.
“My master insists I ask before leaving for lunch or at the end of the day,” I explained. “I was surprised it wasn’t a rule for the whole department. I’m not allowed to go anywhere without permission.” Steve was inflexible on that particular point. He had to know where I was throughout the day, and if I did go out he set a time when I had to be back. It was one of the reasons he had ordered a phone for me. After it arrives I’ll have to send a text message anytime I’m on the move, so he’ll know where I am.
“When I was released from the secure section I didn’t realize how few rules there are on this side. Considering why the Center exists I expected we would all be subject to most of the same strict regulations practiced on the secure side. That is the case for me, but I’ve come to realize it doesn’t apply to everyone else.” It didn’t bother me to have less freedom compared to the other women. I liked the way Steve treated me, keeping me in check, always there to watch over me. If they chose otherwise, too bad for them. They didn’t know what they were missing.
Thanks But No Thanks
It had been a hectic morning. During the lunch break I decided to go to the cafeteria by myself. The others were still busy, and since I was at a good stopping point, and hungry, I decided to go early. The daily special was supposed to be pizza, and I couldn’t pass it up. I checked with Mr. Sorenson to get permission to leave.
At the cafeteria I went through the line, picked up a slice of cheese and pepperoni, and then went out to find an empty table. Being lunchtime it was busy but I finally spotted an empty place.
Since the party quite a few people now said hello in passing. I had become a sort of minor celebrity because of those ballet boots. The attention was nice but given a choice I’d still pass on wearing those shoes again. My feet were sore for days afterwards.
I had almost finished when a woman I didn’t recognize came to my table. “Do you mind if I talk to you for a few minutes,” she asked politely. I figured it was going to be another question and answer session about the boots but I had some time so I invited her to join me.
What she had in mind was something completely different. “A friend who was at your party told me you were in the secure area. I thought that since you had made it through to earn your release you must be very knowledgeable about the rules here in the Center?”
I wasn’t sure where she was headed with that question, but Steve had told me that graduating from the secure area was an accomplishment. A majority of the women at the Center had not come here the hard way, as I liked to call it. “I don’t claim to be any kind of an expert, but I’ll try to answer whatever questions you have.” If I didn’t know I could refer her to a real expert, like Paula or Cathy.
“I’m not sure what to do,” she began. “I was checking my husband’s pockets, for the laundry, when I found this.” She placed a napkin on the table and unfolded it. Inside was a handcuff key. “I’m not sure what to do with it.” She pushed it toward me. “Your master is a Warden, isn’t he? Could he take care of it?”
It might as well have been a coiled rattlesnake, tail rattling, and ready to strike. Yes, I knew the answer to her question. It was to run away as fast as possible. Possession of contraband like that was treated as willful disobedience of the worst sort. “Look, you have to take this to…” I started to tell her.
That was as far as I got. A shadow crossed the table. I looked up to see a Warden standing next to us, and the key was in plain sight. I had noticed he was sitting a few tables away from me, also eating lunch, when I sat down. Apparently Wardens never took a break when it came to watching for those little details. “Both of you, stand up, right now,” he ordered.
I was out of my chair and standing in position as fast as possible. My table companion obviously didn’t understand what was happening. She slowly rose, with an uncertain expression. “Sir,” was the only word she got out before the Warden grabbed one arm, spun her around and pushed her down on the table top. Before she could react he had his handcuffs out and on her wrists.
“Stay right there, don’t move and don’t make a sound. You are being detained for violating Center regulations.” I saw panic setting in but she had the presence of mind to obey him. Then he turned to me.
He saw I was standing in position so he must have assumed I wouldn’t give him any trouble. “Stay where you are, and keep quiet,” he told me. I understood I might be in serious trouble, but I was sure once I explained it would be cleared up. Unfortunately for me I didn’t have a chance to tell him my side of the story.
It didn’t take long for another Warden to arrive. “This one,” the first Warden pointed at me, “she comes with us too.” That wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but I couldn’t speak without permission.
The second Warden was behind me. “Hands,” he ordered. I complied, putting my hands behind my back. He locked the handcuffs on my wrists and immediately took hold of my arm. “Let’s go,” he told me, steering me toward the cafeteria door. Don’t worry, I told myself, Steve will come for me as soon as he’s notified.
I didn’t want to face it but I knew where we were headed. The Center has a large area that’s ideal for detaining women. A secure area, as it’s better known. It didn’t take long to arrive at the entrance.
Inside I recognized the lockers, and that ominous door to the other side. The other woman went against the wall so they could process me first. I knew the routine. As soon as the cuffs came off I was ordered to strip. Everything I had went into a locker. I already had on the regulation uniform, a collar and chastity belt, so the Wardens only had to add the missing accessories, matching handcuffs and leg irons.
I didn’t see what happened to the other woman. One of the Wardens took me through the door into the corridor on the other side. Out of sight a hood went over my head, blinding me. That scared me, because I knew the hood was reserved for visits to a place I did not want to go.
Sure enough, when the hood came off I was in front of one of those cages again. In I went, for the full treatment. When I was safely confined, just before the Warden left, he made a point of letting me know what was happening.
“You are in more trouble than you can even imagine,” he told me, looking into the narrow view slot. “You can look forward to special attention from all of us, for as long as you are here. Oh yes, it will be a long time. Every little mistake you make, we’ll be there. Even if you are perfect, it won’t be good enough. You will regret the day you ever touched a handcuff key.” With that he slid the cover shut, plunging me into darkness.
I was shaking after the Warden’s lecture. In their eyes I had committed a mortal sin, a deliberate attempt to defeat one of their most important tools used to restrain women like myself. They had the means to make my life in the secure area unbearable. I had to find some way to explain, to clear my name, and to get back to Steve. In the dark, desperate, I wracked my brain, trying to come up with a way out.
I could break the rule of silence and start telling them my story. Would they believe me? I had serious doubts. If I did speak without permission it would only confirm their suspicions that I was out of control, recklessly disobeying even simple rules of behavior. The only outcome I could see left me still in this cage, but with a gag to keep me quiet.
My one real hope for rescue was Steve. They would have to notify him. He knew I’d never do something like this.
That’s what kept me going, the knowledge Steve would come for me. He was responsible for me, he had to come. And there’s always a bright spot in any situation. I didn’t have those thumbcuffs on.
I couldn’t see but I finally heard the door open. My prayers were answered when the cover over my eyes slid aside, and Steve was standing in front of me. I came very close to spilling out everything to him but caught myself in time. I waited for him to unlock the cage.
That didn’t happen. I was so happy to see him I hadn’t noticed the frown on his face. “Do you know just how much trouble you are in? I’m told you were caught trying to give a handcuff key to another woman? I can’t believe you would do such a thing. And where would you even get a key?”
Something was horribly wrong. I was being blamed for everything. If only he would let me speak.
Steve paced back and forth in front of me. “This is very serious, Lenora. I can’t get you out of there. An investigator has been appointed to review what happened. Until he turns in his report you have to stay in the secure area. It depends on his findings to determine if you will ever get out.”
My last hope came crashing down. Even Steve couldn’t rescue me. I felt the tears running down my cheeks. I hadn’t done anything wrong. If only someone would give me permission to speak!
Steve stopped pacing. “Alright, suppose you give me your version. Remember, there were witnesses. The investigator has the key too, it’s the real thing. I can’t understand where you found it. Go ahead, you have permission to speak.” He folded his arms, waiting.
After how many hours I finally had a chance to defend myself. Tearfully I told him what happened. I ended with a tearful plea. “Sir, I swear, I never touched that key.”
He leaned forward, reaching through the bars to put his hands on my shoulders. “You’re absolutely sure of that? You never touched that key, not even one time? Think carefully, this is important.”
I didn’t have to think about it. I’d never even come close to any kind of restraint key. “No, sir, I did not touch it. I didn’t even touch the napkin she used to cover it.”
He thought for a moment. “Okay. Lenora, I believe you. I’m going to ask the investigator to talk to you. Tell him exactly what you told me. One more time, you are absolutely sure? If you are wrong you’ll be caught in a lie. That will be the end of it. No one will believe anything you say.”
“I’m not afraid, sir. I did not touch the key or the napkin. I’ll swear to it.” I didn’t quite understand why this one fact was so important, but Steve seemed to think it was crucial.
He took a step back. “I can’t make any promises, but don’t give up hope. This changes everything. For now you’ll have to remain in this cage, but I may be able to improve your condition soon.” With those words he closed the cover over my eyes.
I heard the door close. He was gone but I had something to hold onto now. Steve believed me, and he was fighting to get me back. Hope is a wonderful thing. I felt like I could stand in that cage all day long, if that’s what it took to get back to my master.
I don’t know how long I waited until I heard the door open again. When my eye cover was opened I saw two Wardens in front of me. One of them was unlocking the cage. It didn’t take long to free me. They left the handcuffs and leg chains on, but that was normal practice in the secure area, so it didn’t worry me.
“You are going to be questioned regarding your case. You will answer the investigator’s questions honestly and in full detail. If he is not satisfied you will be returned to the cage for the evening. It will not be a pleasant night for you.” One of them took hold of my arm while the other followed close behind.
In the office a man in a suit sat at one of the desks. I was taken to a chair in front of him. This must be the investigator, so I was on my best behavior, sitting in position, my hands behind the back of the chair. He looked at me for a moment before starting. “You have been accused of a serious offense. Some of the evidence does implicate you. Your master has decided you will be allowed to explain your actions. Tell me what happened.”
I explained everything to him. I did not know the woman. I have never had access to a handcuff key, and would never attempt to obtain one. Mindful of what Steve kept asking me, I told him I had never touched the key or napkin. When I finished he made some notes but didn’t respond immediately.
When the phone rang I jumped in surprise, but quickly recovered. The investigator took the call. He turned away from me and spoke in a low tone, so I couldn’t hear what he said. The conversation went on for a while. He abruptly hung up and came back to the desk.
He didn’t say anything but he studied me carefully. I’m not sure what he was looking for. I had been allowed to tell my side. I trusted these men would treat me fairly now they had all the facts.
“The investigation will conclude tomorrow. Your master will be notified of the results at that time.” With that he stood up, spoke briefly to one of the Wardens, and left. I didn’t hear what he said.
I sat there, watching him walk out the door, not sure what was happening. A Warden took hold of my arm. “Stand up,” he ordered. I was resigned to returning to that cage, grateful for the short break. There wasn’t anything left for me to do but wait, with the hope the investigator, who had never told me his name, would believe me.
I didn’t go very far. The Warden took off the cuffs and allowed me to sit down at the office table. There were two Wardens in the room, the one handling me and another working at a desk. The one next to me left, without telling me what to do next. I sat in position, quietly, trying not to draw attention to myself. It was a vast improvement over that cage.
I don’t know how long I waited until I heard the door open behind me. I couldn’t see who it was but the moment I heard the “stand up” command I recognized Steve’ voice. I jumped up and almost threw my arms around him, but his stern expression stopped me. This was still the secure area and I had to act accordingly. “Turn around, hands behind your back.” For once I was eager to feel those handcuffs on my wrists, because this time it would be my master in control.
“You’re coming home with me,” he whispered in my ear. It was everything I wanted to hear. He took me to the exit, where my clothes were waiting. Steve kept his arm around me the entire time while we walked back to the apartment. I held on to him as if my life depended on it.
Aftermath
The next morning Steve let me sleep in. It had been a long day and night, but in the end I was vindicated. I was exhausted emotionally but I was home and that’s all that mattered.
Steve sat me down on the couch. “I want to talk about this incident. You can relax, you’re not in trouble. I want you to sit and listen to me first.” Without even thinking about it I sat in position, all the while trying to read his expression when he pulled his chair over to sit in front of me.
“The most important lesson from this is for you to know I never doubted you.” He put one of his large hands over mine, carefully folded in position on my lap. “When I first heard the report, what struck me was that nothing added up. Why would you pass a handcuff key to a woman you didn’t even know? And how, or even why, would you even have a key? I know it wasn’t mine, and there was no other way you could possibly obtain one.”
“And the way it was delivered, in a napkin, that made no sense either. Your clothes have no pockets, not even hidden ones. They were carefully examined. So how did you get it to the cafeteria? No one saw you carrying anything in the lunch line, before you picked up a tray. Everyone in the cafeteria at the time was questioned.”
I didn’t know that, but of course no one would tell me. Someone had decided I didn’t need that particular bit of information. I hadn’t even known about the accusation I supplied the key. Steve was right; I had no way to carry it without being seen.
“While you were being questioned, you recall the investigator had a phone call? It was to inform him your fingerprints were not on the key. There wasn’t time to test the napkin for DNA, to see if you handled it, but it seems your accuser didn’t know a DNA test takes a week or more.”
That’s why it was important when I told him I never touched the key. I was so rattled I didn’t even think about it. A DNA test? On TV shows the detectives never had to wait for results. I had no idea it took so long.
“When he left you he went directly to the other woman to question her again. After she was told only her DNA was on the napkin, and only her prints on the key, she confessed it was all her idea and you had no part in it. She panicked when she was caught. To save herself she told everyone it was all your idea.”
That explained why I was left at that office table instead of being put back in the cage. The investigator must have intervened on my behalf.
“As soon as I got the call from the investigator that your detention order was lifted I came for you. You know the rest after that.”
He stopped. I still didn’t have permission to speak, so I waited to see if he had something else to say.
“You also need to know one more thing. Regardless of the evidence, even if there had been nothing to clear you, I would still do everything in my power to save you. You belong to me, you and I both know it. You would never disobey me.” He reached behind his back and took out a pair of handcuffs. His other hand was still on mine.
“You understand why I use these. They are a tool, an inanimate object no different than a spoon or a screwdriver. This is a tool that has the sole purpose of restraining you. Are they necessary? For physical control they are effective but if I told you to hold one wrist with the other hand, behind your back, I know you would be every bit as helpless. What this tool does is prove I will not take you for granted. It is my right to force you to obey me, a right you will not deny me.” He leaned close. “They are your guarantee I want you on my terms.”
“You see how important it is that you don’t try to defeat the restrictions these,” he held up the cuffs, “place on you when you wear them. The lock is there so you can’t take them off. The key represents my authority, my right to limit you. If you have a key the tool is useless. It would give you the ability to resist me. It takes away that absolute you rely on, the knowledge I am always in charge, every minute of the day.”
He was right. As much as I had grown to hate those things while in the secure area they did serve a purpose. Since he owned me he had a right to force me to submit. Restraining me was one way to demonstrate he would be obeyed with or without my consent. I relied on him to do just that, to prove to me he had the strength and determination to dominate my life.
All in the Details
Now that we were both working Steve had established a routine for the mornings. After we ate breakfast I’d get ready first, and then he’d start. While he took a shower I waited in the living room. We both started at the same time so he normally would escort me to the accounting office first.
When he came out of the bedroom I was ready for his inspection before we left for work. As usual I stood in position, looking straight ahead, while he walked around me. I never took this part for granted, but I was confident I would pass. I had a checklist in my head that I went over every morning to be sure I hadn’t missed anything. Even so it was up to him to decide if I required a correction.
Knowing I would be subject to his examination before leaving every day left me no room to be lazy or careless. I was certain if I didn’t pass I would have to answer for it. In the secure area the Wardens had a similar policy, checking us after we were allowed to shower and clean up in the morning. They had a zero tolerance policy for any mistakes. Steve wouldn’t let me get away with being careless either. That’s why I had my checklist. Hair combed, no wrinkles in my blouse, top two buttons open, skirt just above the knee, it all had to be perfect. I was proud of the fact he never found any mistakes.
Normally Steve would release me from position when he finished looking me over, but today he changed the routine. After his last look walking around me he stood in front of me with a distracted look, as if he was thinking about something. I was frantically running down my checklist again, afraid I had missed something. I tried to remember that last look in the mirror. Did I miss a wrinkle in my skirt? Did I have the right number of buttons closed on my blouse? Was there something he didn’t like about my hair?
Finally he broke the silence. “Today, when you get home you will immediately remove your office uniform. When I walk through the door you will be kneeling on the floor, displaying yourself for my inspection.” That was a tough one. From the moment I got home I had to be ready before he opened the door. No warning ahead of time, which meant I had to be on the floor as quickly as possible in case he came home early.
“Yes, sir,” was all I could say. Once I thought about it his assignment wasn’t really as bad as it sounded. Even though I’d have to wait on the floor I could get into position quickly, as soon as I heard the door start to open. As for displaying myself in such a sexually explicit way, that was easy for me. Steve didn’t know but I’d been practicing that very position in the mirror when I was alone. I could tell from the way his face lit up when I knelt for him it had a special appeal. I’d make sure every hand and every knee would be exactly where it was supposed to be. When he walked through that door I would be in the precise position he demanded.
After that we left for work. He didn’t elaborate on his assignment for me. I tried a few carefully worded hints that I’d like to know more, but he just shook his head. One thing I’d quickly learned about Steve; on some matters he’d tell me when I needed to know and not a moment before. I also learned not to pursue it further. He wasn’t going to explain, but irritating him with more questions, even those subtle hints, would earn me an order to be quiet if I were lucky, or something far more unpleasant if I provoked him.
Steve dropped me off at the accounting office. I reported to Mr. Sorenson first before going to my desk. I tried to concentrate on work but what was coming later on kept intruding. My little voice whispered nonstop in my ear, a constant reminder there was no room for error. Over and over I rehearsed it in my head, exactly how far apart my knees should be, how my hands and fingers should overlap behind my head, and the angle to the door where he would first catch a glimpse of me. Plus there was the poke in the back from my lesson with Cathy, reminding me to keep my shoulders pulled back. I don’t know why but I was obsessed with the most trivial of details.
The work day finally came to an end. After Mr. Sorenson gave me permission to leave I hurried home as fast as I could. I wasn’t allowed to run but I could walk fast. Once through the apartment door I started unbuttoning my blouse the moment the door closed. Before anything else I had to get the uniform off.
I risked a quick check in the bathroom mirror before finding my spot on the living room floor. I did cheat a bit. I brought my hair brush with me, gambling that I’d have enough time to run a few strokes through my hair and hide the brush under the couch afterwards. I wasn’t as anxious now. If Steve did surprise me by coming home early I wouldn’t be caught standing or in the wrong place.
As ready as I could be I settled in to wait. I lined up with the door, making sure I was also in the middle of the room. I left my arms down so they wouldn’t be tired. I was sure I could get them up in time, as long as I kept a careful watch on the door. Every so often I rose up to give my knees a break. I wanted to be prepared for a long spell in position, since I didn’t know what he intended for me.
The moment I heard the doorknob start to turn I snapped into position, arms up, head high, and back straight. I risked a quick glance down to make sure my legs were lined up before starting that eyes front stare. I held my breath when the door started to open.
Perfection
Steve took his time at the door. On the other side she would be waiting for this moment. He had deliberately been vague as to when he would be home, for the sole purpose of increasing her anticipation. He put his hand on the doorknob and slowly turned it. She might need that extra second of warning to get ready for him.
When he did open the door there she was, exactly as he expected. She didn’t move when he closed the door and turned to face her. He took his time, both to enjoy the picture of her kneeling before him, and to make sure nothing was out of place.
Steve stood over her, carefully checking the angle of her legs, if her back was straight and head up. Her eyes never wavered, staring straight ahead as she had been taught. He went behind her, checking her hands, the angle of her bare feet. Try as he might, he could find no fault.
He knelt down on one knee, still behind her. Taking her wrists in his hands he moved them down toward her thighs. “Hands down,” he ordered, “you know where they go.” Lenora did know; she placed them exactly where he wanted. Leaning in close Steve whispered in her ear, “Close your eyes. You will hold this position. Do not speak, do not answer me. I want you to concentrate on my voice. Put all other distractions out of your mind.”
Steve placed his hands on her shoulders, holding her in place. “The day I found you was the turning point of my life. The more I learned about you, the more I knew I had to have you, whatever the cost, no matter what the risk. Now you belong to me, body and soul. No man could ever hope for more than a woman like you.
“Right now, right this very minute, this is what you need to know. I’m not a man who is accustomed to sharing feelings, emotions, or my innermost thoughts. You often see through me anyway, but on this occasion I’ll share with you.” Steve ran his hands down her arms, stopping just above her elbows. “You give my life purpose. Without you I was just as lost as you were before you came here. With you I have a purpose. Never doubt that I will always take care of you. I am here to shelter you from the rest of the world. I will see to it whatever you need will be provided.”
He ran his hands the rest of the way down her arms, to her hands. Close behind her he took hold of a wrist in each hand. “I promise you I will never take you for granted. Being special much is required from you, more than what is expected from other women. It may be difficult but you have proven, to me and to yourself, you are capable of meeting and exceeding those demands.
“I will be there to ensure you live up to those obligations. I will not tolerate anything less than your very best effort. I know what you can do; there will be no room for less than a full commitment from you.”
He leaned in to kiss her neck. A tremble ran through her body. Steve felt it in her arms. He tightened his grip. “Do not move. Show me you have the will, the self-control, the discipline to obey me. Keep your eyes closed. Don’t move. Listen only to me.
“Know this too. I will do all that is within my power to hold onto you. I will be relentless in finding ways to make you depend on me, mentally and physically. I will not be satisfied until it is impossible for you to even imagine a life without me in charge. I will never let you go. This is a lifetime commitment for both of us.
“From the moment you wake until the moment you fall asleep I will be there, setting your rules, defining your goals, dictating how you behave. Every moment of the day your first thought will be, am I allowed to do this? Do I need permission? Is it within my boundaries? Will I break a rule if I do this? You will know the answer to those questions, because you know me. That is what makes you so unique.
“ I will not ask you, I will tell you. You and I both understand it is essential that you have a strong hand to guide you. Given an assignment no one is more diligent than you, working tirelessly to meet and exceed every expectation. But we both know that task must be set by someone else, by me. It must come from without, not from within.
“That’s my promise to you. I will be there to tell you what you must do. No should, but must. There is only one way forward, my way, the way you must follow every time. I require your perfection.”