Slaves Don't Need Visas Ch. 06-11
Posted: Mon Dec 02, 2024 12:15 am
6. Arrival at the Health Office
Melissa gradually stirred from her groggy slumber. She found herself on her back and, resisting the pull of sleep, she maneuvered to sit up. This proved challenging; she was once again secured in full travel restraints. Her wrists were cuffed again, and she realized that the catheter was also still in her. She was in a quiet room, save for the rattle of her chains and the occasional clucking of a nearby chicken.
Where was she? Melissa tried to make sense of what she was seeing. The last thing she remembered was the van and the endless journey.
The room was faintly lit through a window by the weak sunlight of early dawn. She glanced around; on one side of her she saw the cages with the dog and the cats that she remembered from the van. Karel had picked them up from the port, and they had been next to her in the van. They appeared still and were breathing steadily under sedation. She observed goats and sheep as well, noting with a touch of resentment that their cages were larger than hers.
Unlike the animals, she alone was in chains. The air was heavy with the scent of animals. The door was closed, but she could hear a faint stir outside.
Her memories started to come back. Melissa remembered waking up in the van during the night because of a sharp pain in her upper arm. Upon opening her eyes, she realized her right arm was extended outside the bars of her cage. Karel was there, gripping her arm near the elbow, injecting something into her. The needle was already embedded in her arm, and Karel was in the process of pushing down the plunger to deliver the substance.
Startled, Melissa attempted to retract her arm back into the cage, but Karel kept it firmly in place. He made a calming "shush" sound to reassure her. He explained that she had been crying out in her sleep and kicking and rattling the bars of her cage, causing the cage to shake.
Karel wasn't mad at Melissa; he understood that the prolonged and restrictive confinement was taking a toll on her. She had only recently been enslaved. As a free woman she would not have known restraints. If he was frustrated, it was with himself. He should have given her the sedative for the night, but she had begged him not to. A slave usually had no choice in such matters, yet looking at Melissa with her kind and innocent face, it was difficult for him to refuse her anything.
Karel spoke quietly, explaining that her restlessness was disturbing the other animals, and that the sedative he was administering was effective in keeping animals calm during transport.
At this point it was too late for her to protest, so she grudgingly calmed down and endured the injection. Karel stuck a small adhesive bandage on the injection site and left the cargo hold. Soon after, a warm, drowsy feeling began to spread through her.
Melissa deduced that she must have fallen into a deep sleep and Karel had delivered her to this room while she had been unconscious.
A chilling thought suddenly crossed her mind. Could Karel have exploited her while she was incapacitated? She had no memory of the journey following the injection or of how she ended up in this place; her mind was a void. With her cuffed hands, she reached down to her vagina and checked herself, feeling around for signs of discomfort or pain that might suggest non-consensual penetration. She proceeded to insert a finger into her vagina, careful that the chain of her handcuffs didn’t push against the catheter, exploring her vaginal walls for any signs of unusual tenderness. To her relief, there were none, indicating that Karel had not taken advantage of her.
Melissa waited in silence, with no one entering to explain the situation to her or what would happen to her next.
Eventually, she laid back down and waited. Her limbs were still feeling warm and relaxed from the aftereffects of the sedative.
7. Nala
Eventually, a young chubby black woman in a veterinary nurse uniform came into the room. She was pushing a trolley from cage to cage. She was tending to the animals, but from the vantage point of her cage Melissa couldn’t see what the nurse was doing.
As the nurse worked her way down the row, she was only two cages away from Melissa. Here, Melissa observed her unlock the sheep's cage, place inside a bowl of kibble and another of water, then lock the cage again.
Anticipating her turn, Melissa adjusted herself into a cross-legged position, waiting for the nurse to come to her.
The nurse continued her routine with the goat in the adjacent cage, performing the same task she had with the sheep.
As the nurse went about her tasks, she glanced over at Melissa. Their eyes met through the bars. With a warm smile, the nurse whispered quietly, "Hey, good morning over there!"
She had a kind face, seeming a few years younger than Melissa. Melissa noticed the name tag on her uniform: "N. Tadesse" with "Apprentice" written underneath. Unsure how to respond in such an odd circumstance, Melissa simply said, "Hello."
Then, it was Melissa's turn. The nurse unlocked her cage, swung the door open, and retrieved a bowl from her trolley, passing it to Melissa. "Where are you from?" she inquired.
Melissa lifted her chained hands to take the bowl from the nurse, which contained rice mixed with beans. The thought of finally eating something solid after a day without lifted her spirits.
"I'm from England," Melissa answered. Still seated with her legs crossed, she placed the bowl on her urine bag and the shackles of her ankles and let it lean on her pubic mound and lower abdomen for support.
The nurse then handed her a spoon, saying, "An English girl, huh. You're a long way from home!"
Melissa clumsily maneuvered the spoon with her cuffed hands, managing to scoop some food. The meal was plain, just rice and beans with no sauce, but to Melissa, who hadn't eaten for a day, it was a feast. She ate eagerly, making sure not to waste any of the precious sustenance.
"Mmmhmm," Melissa grunted in affirmation, her mouth full of food.
"How long have you been enslaved?" Nala inquired.
Melissa was concentrating on getting another spoonful of food into her mouth without spilling any, a challenge with her hands cuffed so closely together.
"I was enslaved yesterday," she replied, her voice tinged with sorrow and a touch of bitterness.
"Yesterday! So, you've only just lost your freedom!" the veterinary nurse exclaimed. "Wow. You were a free woman just yesterday. How did that happen?"
"My boyfriend convinced me to go along with a foolish plan. I didn't understand what I was agreeing to, and by the time I did, it was too late. They put a collar on me, stripped me, and locked me in this cage," Melissa explained, taking another mouthful of food.
"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry. You weren't even given a chance to prepare? You were just suddenly thrust into this?"
“Yeah. One moment I was a free woman, next I was a slave. I’m beating myself up about how I could have made such a stupid mistake,” Melissa said while chewing. “I had no idea what I was getting into.”
“Do you think you could take these off while I’m eating, Ma’am?” Melissa asked, lifting her cuffed hands carefully, making sure not to knock over the bowl perched on her lap.
The nurse paused, considering. "Hmm. If I unlock them, do you promise to behave?"
“Yes, Ma’am.”
"You won't resist, no struggling, and you'll do as I say, got it?"
“Yes, Ma’am. I won't make any trouble.”
The nurse rifled through her keychain, then leaned towards Melissa. Melissa raised her hands to be released from the cuffs. The nurse unlocked them, setting them down beside Melissa, the central chain resting over her bare thigh, causing a slight tickle.
“Thank you, Ma’am,” Melissa said. She picked up the bowl in one hand and spooned the food into her mouth with the other. It was a welcome relief.
The nurse placed a water bottle next to her and gave Melissa's leg a sympathetic pat before closing the cage door with a loud clang and locking it with a padlock. She then moved on with her trolley to the next cage, where the dog awaited.
Melissa gulped the food down and asked, ”What will happen to me here?”
“Someone will pick you up soon. I don’t know what exactly is planned for you but basically we do a bunch of health checks and make sure the livestock is up to code.”
Melissa eyed the bowl in front of her. "Is this traditional Grabesh food?”
The nurse laughed loudly, snorting at the end, “No, this is food specially prepared according to the latest nutritional guidelines from the Ministry of Health. It is low in fat, low in salt, low in sugar, low in taste, low in everything that makes food good really. And no meat, no spices and no sauces.”
"Oh, I'm sorry, I just thought, because my boyfriend promised to introduce me to authentic Grabesh cuisine just before I was enslaved that this might be it,” Melissa trailed off, not really complaining. After all, this was her first meal in a day, and given the circumstances, it wasn't at the top of her concerns.
Sensing Melissa needed consoling, the nurse continued, “I swear, this food is not some kind of unusual punishment. The government recommends that we all eat like this, not just slaves. But honestly, I don't know anyone who actually does. I bet even the people who made these guidelines don't eat this way. But we're obliged to provide nutritionally balanced meals to our animals, and this food checks all the health ministry's boxes.”
Melissa chose to ignore being grouped with animals in conversation again. Healthy food is the worst, she thought, but at least she was being fed, so she wouldn't complain.
"Look," the nurse said, as if reading her mind, "I can't help with your enslavement, but I can sneak you some real Grabesh food later if you're interested. How about some fruit, meat, cheese, and a slice of bread? What do you think? Sounds good, new girl from Germany?"
Melissa's face lit up with hope. "You'd do that for me?"
"Sure."
"Yes, please. That would be amazing, thank you, Ma'am."
The nurse stood up and returned to her trolley. "By the way, you can call me Nala. Or Nala-the-nurse-who-gets-you-real-Grabesh-food."
"Okay, thank you Nala-the-nurse-who-is-my-hero. I'm Melissa," Melissa said, and for the first time since being enslaved, she smiled.
"Nice to meet you, Melissa," Nala said as she continued down the line with her trolley.
8. Pick Up
After Nala departed, Melissa found herself once again alone with the caged animals. As they began to stir, the sounds of their movements and vocalizations filled the room. Additionally, the odor intensified, indicating that some of the animals were relieving themselves, making the atmosphere increasingly unpleasant.
Melissa stank and she knew it. She was covered in dried sweat from spending the day and night in the humid van. Her vaginal fluids had seeped on the floor from her frequent catheter-driven masturbation. The scent of masturbation also clung to her body, as she had been forced to sleep on the moist floor. She had been worried that whoever retrieved her from the cage would notice the telltale smell of her masturbation. The smell mixed with the dried sweat that had accumulated on her on her arduous trip in the humid cargo hold. But now it seemed like the heavy smell of the animals in the room might cover up her own odors.
After what seemed like half an hour, a male veterinary nurse came in. The windows at the end of the room had been tilted and he fully opened them. That improved ventilation a lot and after a few moments Melissa smelled the wave of fresh air from her cage, diluting the stench.
Melissa heard the man open a cage and a bit later she saw the nurse walking past her cage with a sheep on a leash, but he took no notice of her.
Every few minutes a nurse came in and did the same, and gradually the animals left the cages.
Finally, Nala came to retrieve her. She unlocked the cage, and Melissa cautiously made her way out. Her hands were still free of the handcuffs but her ankles were still shackled. She held her catheter bag, its tube still connected, in one hand and carried the shackles with the other.
She was relieved to exit her cramped cage and stand upright, after being confined for so long. She enjoyed being able to fully stretch her legs again. Melissa never wanted to see this cage again or think about what had happened in there.
Nala was unfamiliar with a catheter and Melissa had to explain to her what it was and that she couldn’t take it out herself.
Nala took the handcuffs from Melissa and closed them carefully around her wrists. “Don’t want to get into trouble with the Head Nurse,” she said apologetically.
Nala attached a numbered red tag to her collar, and led her out of the room. Nala led Melissa through corridors and they eventually entered a hall.
The floor and the walls of the hall were covered in white tiles. Numerous staff members were bustling about. Melissa observed several large workbenches along the walls, each accompanied by a sink. Veterinary nurses were attending to animals on these benches, and someone was hosing down the floor, the water running into drains in each corner. With a sinking feeling, Melissa noticed that each worker had a cattle prod attached to their belt.
Nala called for assistance, and soon a middle-aged, overweight woman with the stern face of a matriarch approached, her name tag reading “M. Kamau, Head Nurse,” and she held a syringe.
Melissa was led to one of the workbenches and climbed onto it with Nala’s help. The bench had a high backboard to which a chain was attached. Once Melissa was seated, Nala secured the chain to Melissa’s collar with a padlock, ensuring she couldn't leave the bench without being unlocked.
Then, Nala unlocked her transport chains.
Melissa felt a moment of relief when she was freed from the tight transport chains, but was unsettled as she found herself chained by her neck for the first time. Neck chaining was a practice she had considered solely for animals. She was not surprised, all things considered, but this was her first time and she now had to learn to deal with the feeling of being controlled like this. Her fingers instinctively went to the D-ring where Nala’s padlock was securing the chain to her collar.
Freed from her travel chains, Melissa felt the urge to stretch. She knelt on the table, stretched her arms upwards and even extended her fingers. Though in the back of her mind she was aware that from the perspective of the two veterinary nurses in front of her, her posture might appear obscene, the need to stretch was overwhelming. She arched her spine side to side and then backwards, relishing the release.
The feeling of a complete body stretch after prolonged constriction was gratifying. However, once the pleasure of the stretch subsided, she felt exposed to her captors, and she quickly returned to a modest kneeling stance and hid the catheter between her legs. She didn’t like seeing her neck chain hanging down from her, so she draped it over her shoulder.
The veterinary nurses recognized Melissa's need to stretch and waited for her to finish. Melissa knelt and covered her vagina with her hands from view.
The head nurse told Melissa to sit on the table and recline against the wall. Melissa adjusted her chain to drape over her front to avoid any discomfort while leaning back. She was then asked to lift her knees, spread her legs apart, and grip her ankles, positioning herself to remain exposed. This gave the nurse unobstructed access to Melissa's genital area. The room was full of people working and Melissa wished she would at least be shielded by any curtain from view.
While removing the catheter, the nurse explained the procedure to Nala so she would be able to do it in the future. Melissa felt an uncomfortable tickling in her as the tube slid out of her. With the catheter removed, Melissa was relieved. Finally the hated catheter was out! She couldn’t stop a small amount of urine escaping her and trickle onto the table.
The nurse took a hose that was attached to the faucet from the adjacent sink and sprayed off the workbench and also sprayed over Melissa’s vagina and legs. Melissa turned her face away to protect her eyes from the splashes from the hose.
Melissa shut her legs and wrapped her arms around them, hiding her intimate regions from further exposure. Her collar chain draped to her side and behind her where it was fastened to the ring on the headboard.
With the catheter removed, the head nurse left Melissa in Nala’s care.
Melissa observed as Nala produced both handcuffs and ankle restraints. Understanding they were meant for her, Melissa decided to comply.
She detested the feeling of her hands being bound. Ever since her enslavement just a day ago, her hands had been in chains for most of her waking time. Nala had only just taken off her travel restraints, and now she was facing the prospect of being cuffed once again. And Melissa never knew for how long she would be shackled.
But she recalled the agonizing experience with tasers from the day before, administered by officers for the slightest misstep. The staff here carried cattle prods. Unsure of how cattle prods might compare, she had no desire to experience that pain again. Nala seemed to be nice and Melissa trusted that Nala wouldn't punish her without reason, and her strategy for avoiding pain was to be cooperative. She hoped Nala would take pleasure in managing her, rather than passing her to someone less restrained with their use of force.
So when Nala took the handcuffs, Melissa proactively extended her wrists together, ready for the cuffs to be applied, making it easy for Nala to secure them. She did the same with the ankle cuffs.
Nala did not detach the chain from her collar with which she was tethered to the backboard. Instead, Nala unlocked the chain from the backboard and used it as a leash to lead Melissa to her next station.
The white hall had a pulley on one wall with a large, J-shaped hook hanging at chest level. The hook had a long upward-pointing bend.
Nala guided Melissa's hands around the hook, positioning it between her bound wrists. She then cranked the pulley, lifting the hook and Melissa's arms with it, stopping when Melissa's arms were raised but not fully extended.
Glancing up at the hook suspending her arms, Melissa was reminded of the hooks used by butchers to hang animal carcasses.
“Can you get off the hook?” Nala inquired.
Melissa tried to slip her cuffs past the hook's bend, even rising on her toes, but it was futile. She couldn't escape even with her utmost effort. This realization was upsetting, and though she tried to suppress her distress, she felt trapped. Melissa settled back onto her heels, allowing her arms to dangle from the hook.
"No," she said, "I can't, Ma'am."
"Okay. Are you comfortable otherwise? No strain?" Nala asked, caringly stroking Melissa's raised arm.
Melissa nodded, acknowledging Nala's concern, though she was far from comfortable.
Nala fixed Melissa's hair, pulling some strands that had fallen over her face back and letting them cascade down her back. She then adjusted Melissa’s collar, ensuring the D-ring with her leash was positioned in the center. “Great. Someone will come soon and take care of you, Melissa. See you later!”
Melissa nodded once more. While she appreciated Nala's attentiveness to her well-being, she couldn't overlook the ongoing degrading treatment. This inner conflict kept her from responding to Nala with the same casual friendliness that Nala showed her.
9. First Treatment
Melissa felt like she had been waiting for nearly an hour. No one came to check on her or explain what would happen next. She stood naked, her wrists cuffed and her arms hoisted above her head by the hook with a long, upward-pointing end, making escape impossible even when she went on tiptoe. The hook was part of a pulley system, and a chain from her collar hung down to the floor, locked with a padlock. She felt the chain’s weight pulling down on her neck. Her ankles were shackled, but with enough chain to move comfortably.
Eventually a worker attended to her. He checked the number on her tag and compared it with the notes on his clipboard. Then he put the clipboard away and started spraying her with a brown foul smelling liquid. He began with her hair, now drenched, causing the liquid to cascade down her body. He methodically sprayed her from head to toe, instructing her to spread her legs wide for the treatment to reach her pubic area. From the back, he spread her buttocks to spray her anal area.
The spray's intrusion between her legs, touching her in her most intimate places without regard for her as a person, felt like a violation of her body. Yet, alongside the indignity, she was disturbingly aware of an involuntary arousal stemming from the power this stranger exerted over her and her lack of control.
Once he turned off the spray, Melissa coughed, trying to hold back a gag as he circled her, examining his work. She managed to ask, "What is this stuff?"
“A delousing agent,” the worker answered. “It’s standard procedure for all mammals. It needs to stay on for ten to sixty minutes to work. Someone will come to rinse it off later.”
With that he left, leaving Melissa standing with her arms hanging from the hook and dripping brown fluid onto the white tiles below.
Melissa focused on controlling her breath to stave off nausea. She shook her head vigorously to dislodge some of the fluid from her hair, then pressed the sides of her head against her arms in an attempt to wring more out, all the while coughing. Her attempts to shake off the liquid were futile. The stench of the brown fluid remained on her.
She looked around. The hall was full of activity. Veterinary nurses were actively transferring animals between kennels and treatment tables, where they received care. There was a constant flow of employees navigating the area.
—
While she waited, thoughts of Arbek occupied Melissa's mind. Where was he? She clung to the hope that he was aware of her situation and was planning to pick her up once the health authorities released her. It had been more than a day since they were parted, she reflected as the foul-smelling liquid continued to seep from her. She needed to be sure he hadn't abandoned her. Melissa didn't truly believe Arbek would leave her, but she desperately needed confirmation. Couldn't he contact the Health Office and leave a message for her? Perhaps she could even speak to him on the phone. She needed the comfort of knowing she wasn't alone. Arbek was her only connection in this foreign land, and the last time she had seen him was at the airport, expecting a quick reunion after some formalities with the airport police.
He was her sole hope for liberation from this nightmare of slavery.
—
A loud buzzing sound echoed through the room, signaling the start of their morning break. The workers halted their tasks and began to exit the tiled room. As they walked by, some glanced at her, inspecting her body with curiosity, but no one said anything to her. When Melissa looked at employees, her eyes were inevitably drawn to the cattle prods hanging on the workers' belts. These tools were there to inflict pain on her and ensure her obedience. The animals they had been attending to were fastened to a wall by a chain or confined to a transport cage. Meanwhile, Melissa remained attached to the hook.
—
The buzzer sounded again and the workers slowly filled the room again, resuming their work.
Melissa's arms throbbed uncomfortably after being suspended for an extended period. She longed to lower them to allow some blood flow, even briefly. The hard steel of the handcuffs was hurting her as it pushed into the back of her palms. She attempted to ease the pressure by straightening her arms, but she could not do this for a prolonged period of time. Soon, she had to let her hands fall back, and the cuffs would again press into her hands, creating a persistent discomfort.
She hung there, abandoned to her own thoughts. The wait for what might come next was both terrifying, but there was also a twisted sense of anticipation, even if she would not have admitted it. She knew these were medical professionals and even though she was at their mercy, they would not hurt her. Her life was not in any danger.
Melissa wondered if she had been forgotten. But eventually a worker came to attend to her. He hosed her down from head to toe with lukewarm water, rinsing off the delousing chemical.
Then he left her hanging there and no explanation what would be done to her next or when.
10. Killian
Melissa felt the need to use the restroom. The bland but filling meal she had in her cage, combined with the bottle of water she had glugged down to replenish her fluids after sweating in the van, had caught up with her.
When the head veterinary nurse, Mrs. Kamau, walked by with her arms full of test tubes and paperwork, Melissa called out, "Mrs. Kamau? Mrs. Kamau!"
Mrs. Kamau, preoccupied, assured Melissa that she would arrange for someone to assist her.
Shortly afterward, a young Black man approached. He seemed to be around Melissa's age, dressed in plain clothes without a uniform or name tag. He was casually swinging his cattle prod as if it were a toy.
Standing in front of her, he inquired, "You need to use the toilet?"
Melissa nodded, having preferred if a female had been sent for this discrete task, yet here she was, exposed and with her arms raised, facing the man who would take her there.
The young man gave her an appraising look from head to toe, then back up.
"Okay," he said, as if granting her a favor. "I'm Killian, by the way."
“Melissa,” Melissa said, followed by “Ouch!”
Killian had zapped her with the cattle prod. Unlike the tasers she had experienced the day before, which were agonizing, this was just a sharp, quick pain in her leg that faded rapidly. Melissa looked at him, puzzled, until their eyes locked and she recalled the proper etiquette.
“I’m Melissa, Sir,” she corrected herself.
Killian smiled approvingly, nodded and went to the crank. As he passed her, he playfully gave her a double tap on her buttock with the cattle prod. Melissa winced, but there was no electric jolt this time. He started to turn the crank, easing the tension on Melissa's wrists as the hook lowered.
Killian didn't lower the hook by much. Once the hook was low enough for Melissa to potentially remove her handcuffs from the hook, he stopped and looked at her. “Can you get off from here?”
Melissa tried to lift her cuffed hands over the hook, stretching up on her toes, but the end of the hook's curve was out of reach. Why wouldn't he lower it further?
"Lower it more. I can't reach," Melissa said, and quickly added, "Sir," recalling the recent shock.
"Oh, come on," Killian sighed, stepping in front of her, cattle prod still in his grip. He prodded Melissa's upper leg, causing her to desperately reach higher to free herself before he could use the prod again. This action inadvertently thrust her breasts upward, almost as if presenting them to Killian. As she wrestled with the hook, it turned slightly, forcing her to align her body so that her armpit was uncomfortably close to his face, a reminder of her lack of hygiene after the previous day's long, sweaty journey.
Alas, her efforts were in vain. The hook’s bend was just a bit too high.
"It's too high... I can't... Ouch!" Melissa exclaimed as Killian zapped her leg. She was incensed that he would shock her for something beyond her control. He had intentionally set the hook too high, and now he was punishing her for being unable to free herself.
Melissa shot Killian a look of frustrated helplessness. She tried stretching up again, this time lifting as high as she could on her toes, even pushing off from the balls of her feet for added reach. It was close, but not close enough.
"Ouch!" she yelped again as Killian zapped her backside. He had moved to her side. "Stop that!" she demanded, only to receive another mild shock on the other side.
In a desperate move, Melissa attempted to crouch down, though with her arms raised, she couldn't lower herself much. From there, she tried to jump, adding extra momentum with her calves for extra height.
To her relief, this was enough to get her handcuffs over the hook. As she landed, she lost her balance and stumbled forward, managing to break her fall with her hands. The chain around her neck clattered against the tiled floor.
"See, I knew you could do it!" Killian chuckled. "You just needed the right encouragement! I bring out the best in people."
Melissa glared at him in frustration. She quickly got back to her feet. "Can we go now, Sir?"
“Sure. Give me your leash,” Killian instructed, extending his hand.
Reluctantly, Melissa took hold of her leash with her cuffed hands and placed it in his. Killian stretched out his arm, pulling the leash to guide Melissa in front of him. "Let's go," he said, giving her rear a playful tap with the cattle prod, though without activating it.
Startled, Melissa moved forward but was abruptly halted as the leash tightened and her collar yanked her back. Killian had a firm grip on the leash, causing the collar to choke her. Melissa instinctively brought her cuffed hands to her neck, gripping the leash to cushion the harsh pulls.
Killian followed behind her, and Melissa tried to keep pace while maintaining as much distance from him as possible, which wasn't much.
He occasionally tapped her buttocks with the cattle prod, causing her to flinch. When it grazed her skin, it was as if her nervous system focussed on that point of contact. Her skin, which was already sensitive from being naked, reacted with a shiver, when it touched her. She'd turn to face him while walking backward to keep an eye on the dreaded device, but found it too awkward to continue, so she'd turn back to face forward and watch where she was going.
Killian led her out of the white hall, down a corridor to a bathroom just around the corner. The bathroom was large, featuring both a toilet and a shower, all on tiled flooring. He allowed her to use the toilet but stayed in the room, dashing any hope Melissa had for privacy, which by now, didn't surprise her.
Melissa sat on the toilet with Killian standing in front of her, amusing himself with the cattle prod, watching it spark with apparent fascination. His proximity meant he could easily reach out and touch her with it. It was hard enough for her to have to relieve herself naked in front of this man. But each time she saw the sparks, it brought back the memories of the shocks she had received from it in the white hall, making her tense and unable to get a urine stream going.
"Killian, could you please give me some privacy, Sir?" she pleaded. "I can't do this with you standing in front of me, Sir."
Killian looked at her with a disinterested gaze, and to her relief, he stepped out into the corridor, though he left the door open.
He returned when he heard the toilet flush. Killian instructed her to step into the shower. He grabbed a hose connected to a faucet and started rinsing her down. The water was cool, yet bearable. He directed the spray at her vagina first, then had her turn around, spread her legs, and bend over. Melissa complied, spread her legs as far as her hobble allowed, and placed her cuffed hands on the wall for support. He then spread her buttocks with one hand to clean her anus, before moving the water stream down her legs to her feet.
Once done, he told her to turn back around and pass him her leash once more. After she did, the leash felt like an extension of Killian’s will over her and she was at his mercy. He turned and walked away, giving the leash a sharp tug. Melissa yelped as the collar pulled painfully, stumbled forward, nearly tripped over her ankle chains, quickly regained her grip on the leash with her cuffed hands, and hurried after him.
After exiting the bathroom, Killian pulled Melissa’s chain to direct her in front of him again. As before, he intermittently tapped her buttocks with the cattle prod. These light touches on her bare skin sent waves of anticipation through her. Her naked body tensed and relaxed in a rhythm set by his taps. Melissa tried to keep up with his pace, staying as far ahead as possible without being choked by her collar.
Eventually Killian became somewhat disappointed to see that Melissa no longer reacted with the same level of anxiety. Her responses to his taps were less pronounced than before. Bored by her reduced reaction, he decided to add some excitement by setting the cattle prod to a low shock and zapping her buttocks.
Melissa yelped and turned to face him, walking backward. She bent forward in an attempt to move her body away from him, but the collar kept her close, so she ended up walking backward while leaning towards him, clutching the leash close to her collar. She pleaded with him, "Please, Killian, stop! These shocks hurt!"
Killian was grinning, playfully twirling his cattle prod.
"Killian!" Melissa heard a voice from behind her. She turned to see Nala, who was carrying lab equipment. Nala shouted something in Grabesian that Melissa couldn't comprehend. They exchanged a few words, and eventually, Killian responded in a tone suggesting he was giving in. He then attached the cattle prod to his belt and resumed walking. As he passed Melissa, he gave her a friendly slap on the buttocks. Melissa silently mouthed "Thank you" to Nala, pressing her hands together in gratitude. Nala smiled and nodded in acknowledgement. Melissa felt the leash tighten and quickly followed Killian back into the white hall.
Once they were back in the white hall, Melissa approached the hook. Killian adjusted the hook to a slightly lower position, and Melissa, following his lead, raised her bound wrists, the metal cuffs clinking softly, so that the hook nestled between her wrists. After that, Killian operated the crank on the pulley system, elevating the hook once more, securing Melissa in place again.
Killian continued to crank, and as he did, the slack in Melissa's arms disappeared, stretching them upward. Alarm surged through Melissa as Killian kept turning. She was forced onto her tiptoes.
“Stop!” she exclaimed. “Too high! Please, Sir!” Melissa desperately pulled at the handcuffs as if she could bring the hook back down this way. But it was futile, the hook didn’t budge.
Killian walked up to her, positioning himself right in front of her tense, stretched body.
The increased tension created an acute angle where the cuffs met her wrists. Where the cuffs had been loose around her wrists before, the metal was now pressing into her at an angle, the cuffs acting like wedges driven into her flesh by the opposing forces of the hook pulling her up and gravity. The cuffs were biting into her from the force of her weight against the cuffs' unyielding shape.
On the other side of her wrists, the cuffs exerted an outward force, pushing her hands apart, causing her hands to be pushed outward. Her palms formed a V, as if she were trying to reach for something just out of grasp.
Using the back of his hand, Killian softly traced a path along Melissa’s taut upper arm, past her armpit, and over the side of her breast. His touch continued down her abdomen, gently brushing over her pubic area. He did the same on her other side. Each time savoring the process.
Their eyes met. Melissa's breath was labored, strained by the discomfort and the effort to remain on her tiptoes.
Killian unhooked the cattle prod from his belt. He grazed Melissa with it, but didn’t activate it.
"Killian, please, don't," Melissa whispered, her voice shaky with fear and dread of the impending shock. “...Sir.”
“Oh, come on,” he said. “Just one more for old times’ sake.”
He traced the cattle prod lightly over her stomach, its tip gliding up to the base of her breasts before skimming the soft undersides. Melissa's breath shortened, her muscles tightening with the anticipation of a possible shock. She looked into his eyes, trying to discern his next move.
Killian then drew the prod down from her chest, past her navel, and towards her vagina, gently brushing through her pubic hair towards her clitoris.
Melissa's panic escalated. "Killian, no, please!" she begged. Attempting to evade the prod, she arched her back, trying to shift her most sensitive spot away from danger, but her stretched position allowed only the slightest movement. Killian adjusted his aim with the prod, following her, and Melissa twisted slightly, still trying to shield her clitoris from contact.
Killian chuckled and went back to the pulley, cranking it slightly to lift.
Melissa, now balancing on the tips of her toes, felt the cuffs biting into her wrists painfully. Overwhelmed by this, she pleaded with Killian, her voice filled with urgency, "Let me down, please! This really hurts!"
She was on the edge of despair. Turning the crank was as simple for Killian as turning the dial on a radio. All it took was a quick pull on the crank for her world to shift from discomfort to agony. Her heart sank with the weight of her own powerlessness.
Melissa begged, her voice a mix of desperation and plea, "Please, let me down!" She looked into his eyes and saw his displeasure.
“Oh, come on. You're always complaining. Don’t be such a drama queen,” he commented. “Fine. I’ll be merciful today.”
He eased the crank back a notch, letting her settle onto the balls of her feet, still on tiptoes. The relief was immediate, like a breath of air after being submerged for too long. The cuffs continued to pinch her wrists, but the pain had lessened to a tolerable level. But Melissa was shaken by the experience. The episode had been a stark demonstration of her subjugation. She knew that Killian could have left her at the higher setting had he wanted. And there would have been nothing she could have done about it.
“How about this,” Killian said. “You take one more shock from this,” and he held up the cattle prod, “and you get to stand flat-footed again. Deal?”
All Melissa wanted at this moment was to relieve the strain on her calves and have the biting pressure in her wrists go away. She closed her eyes and nodded. She realized this was just a cruel game to him; he didn't need her consent to deliver painful shocks to her. He could do it at his whim.
She felt the cattle prod trace over her body. When it paused at one of her nipples, she held her breath. The tip of the cattle prod traced the areola around her nipple. Then it drifted to the other and did the same there. Melissa shook her head, hoping to redirect him. He continued. The prod's tip edged closer to her vagina, parting her labia.
"No, Killian, please," she whispered in a plea, her eyes still closed.
Then the shock came - not where she had feared, but on her buttocks. She yelped, startled, and sucked in a breath. Killian's laughter rang out. Opening her eyes, Melissa watched as he turned the crank, alleviating the tension on her wrists. Now she could stand comfortably on her feet, and her arms had some slack. She sighed with relief.
Killian smiled at her, “Ok, I’ve got to go now. It was great to meet you, Melissa. Call me if you need anything else!” he said and walked away, giving her another friendly double slap on her butt cheeks as he walked past her.
11. Second Treatment
Melissa stood there for what felt like another ten minutes. Then, another veterinary nurse approached her. Melissa’s wrists were still sore but she was in no pain. He checked the tag on her collar and seemed satisfied.
The nurse was a tall and strong man. He had a bucket with soapy water and a sponge in it. He placed the bucket near Melissa and used the sponge to apply shampoo, meticulously massaging it into her hair with his hands, then her ears, and around her face. When covering her face with lather, he made sure not to block her nose, allowing her to breathe.
The worker was not wearing any protective gloves, directly touching her with his bare hands.
He lathered the exposed portion of her neck above the collar. After that, he lifted the collar to access and treat the area of skin that had been concealed by it.
He applied more shampoo, gently massaging it into her armpits and along her arms. Grooming was important to Melissa and she shaved her armpits regularly. But with the recent chaos in her life she had not found the time. The last time had been over a week ago and now she had some stubbly regrowth.
Though the worker was tender with his touch, the feeling in her armpits prompted Melissa to instinctively try to lower her arms to protect them. However, the handcuffs prevented this, pressing the already sore area of her hands harder against the metal restraints.
He then moved down, carefully kneading her breasts with his sudsy hands, delicately twisting her nipples to work the soap in, and then attending to the undersides of her breasts. Melissa again pulled at her restraints in a reflex in which she would have slapped his groping hands away.
Melissa had long anticipated this moment of cleanliness, imagining she would be in a shower, cleaning herself. Instead, a clothed stranger was doing the job. She appreciated the relief from the dried sweat. The sensation of her breasts being kneaded felt like a massage; in a different context with her boyfriend, she would have enjoyed it. However, here, restrained and exposed, with a stranger who was now stimulating her, she felt conflicted. Her body reacted with involuntary shivers of arousal, especially when her nipples were gently manipulated. Suppressing any sign of pleasure, she tried to appear indifferent.
Shampoo from her hair flowed down, irritating her eyes. Melissa shut them, rubbing her face against her restrained arms to clear away the soapy water, then reopened them.
The man proceeded downwards, lathering her abdomen before attending to her pubic hair with soap.
Melissa squirmed, attempting to shield herself from his groping hands by squeezing her legs together and hunching forward, as much as her bound wrists permitted. The man then held her left nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, pinching it just enough to make his point without applying harsh pressure. He instructed her, “Relax, Miss Maurer. Spread your legs.” Frightened by the threat of his pinch, Melissa tensed. The pinch, though not cruel, was a reminder that she was vulnerable, that she could afford to resist. Her legs, trembling with the dual urge to clamp shut and yield, spread apart under his directive in a reluctant concession to his will.
He carefully inserted his fingers between her labia, both outer and inner, cleaning her private parts thoroughly, reaching up to her clitoris. He then took each labial fold between his fingers, gently pulling them apart to wash the surface, which sent waves of arousal through Melissa. He then used his sudsy fingers to circle and cleanse the area between her inner labia with gentle pressure. At last, he gently glided his soap-lathered fingers across her clitoris, manipulating the clitoral hood to reveal the sensitive area beneath, and circled his fingers to cleanse it thoroughly.
Melissa felt violated by this cleaning of her most private area. Yet, given the degrading experiences she'd faced since being enslaved just a day ago, it didn't shock her as much as it might have. The worker was gentle, and despite her desire to remain detached, the stimulation caused her to breathe heavily. She still could not prevent moaning multiple times. The man, hearing her, commented, “Good, Miss Maurer. Relax.”
Melissa's world narrowed to the point of contact between her skin and his fingers, each touch a violation wrapped in the guise of care. As she felt his fingers intrude, a cold dread mixed with an unwelcome warmth spread through her. She was a captive to his touch, her own flesh responding in ways her mind recoiled against. Arousal, like an uninvited guest, crept in on the heels of his meticulous 'care', leaving Melissa feeling both alien and betrayed by her own body.
The man, standing next to her, tapped her inner thighs to indicate she should spread her legs wider, and she complied. He then started massaging soap into her perineum in circular motions. Melissa was overwhelmed with the instinct to close her legs but the man had once again preemptively pinched her nipple between his fingers, a quiet warning that resistance would be met with instant pain. She resisted her impulse and kept her legs parted, allowing the man to proceed with his task.
Her mind screamed for an escape, for the dignity she knew she deserved. Her chest heaved with shallow breaths from her internal chaos.
From behind her, he parted her buttocks and used soap on her anus. He tried to insert the tip of this soapy finger into her anus.
This was too much for Melissa. The shame overwhelmed her and in a desperate attempt she tried to evade the finger intruding into her, but her suspension from the hook overhead left her with limited mobility. She twisted her body into an arch, managing to move her buttocks away from his probing finger, and turned to her side.
However, the worker brought the bucket closer to Melissa. Then he reached around to her vagina and grabbed her labia with his fist. Melissa inhaled sharply in both shock and pain as the skin of her labia was pulled taut in his clenching grip.
Her inner labia naturally extended beyond the outer ones, so when he grabbed them, a significant amount of the delicate inner tissue was caught in his fist. The sensitivity there made the pulling excruciating. Did this man not understand how tender that area was? Melissa was taking short, shallow breaths, overwhelmed by the stress of her predicament.
Movement now brought her intense pain, so Melissa stopped struggling. The worker adjusted his hold, bringing her back to her initial position, and Melissa adjusted herself to keep her vagina aligned with his fist to prevent any further stretching. Her breath was ragged, each inhalation a conscious effort to keep from sobbing, from screaming out the indignity of it all.
With her labia firmly in his control, he went into a half-kneeling position on her side. With his other hand he once again introduced his fingertip into her anus, Melissa exhaled sharply with indignation, but she stayed still and kept her legs spread. She did not want to give the worker an excuse to tighten his grip. Melissa did not dare imagine how painful that would be.
Melissa gazed upwards at the ceiling, attempting to dissociate from the fact that this was occurring in a room full of people. She hid her face by pressing it against her right arm and pushed the fingernail of her thumb into her index finger, hoping the pain would distract her from the humiliation she felt from the intimate cleaning.
A colleague passed by in front of Melissa and asked the nurse tending to her something. Melissa couldn’t understand what they were talking about because they were speaking Grabesian. The colleague seemed to be asking him something work related and they had an exchange. During their talk, he paused his activity on Melissa, yet he kept his finger inserted in her anus and maintained his grip on her labia.
After the matter was settled, the worker resumed his task with Melissa. As if he had forgotten where he had been interrupted, he repeated the process by applying additional soap to her anal cleft, moving in circles around her sphincter before inserting his fingertip into her once more and twisting it around.
Finally, the nurse was done with that area. Melissa exhaled a sigh of relief. He continued by washing her legs and she lifted each of her feet in turn so he could clean the soles of her feet. She felt the weight of the ankle chain when she lifted her feet but it never went taut.
The worker rinsed her off with a hose starting with her hair and her arms working herself downward and diligently attending to her private parts until Melissa stood there fully cleaned, dripping with water.
The worker put his working gear back, made some notes and then walked away, leaving Melissa tethered to air-dry.
Melissa gradually stirred from her groggy slumber. She found herself on her back and, resisting the pull of sleep, she maneuvered to sit up. This proved challenging; she was once again secured in full travel restraints. Her wrists were cuffed again, and she realized that the catheter was also still in her. She was in a quiet room, save for the rattle of her chains and the occasional clucking of a nearby chicken.
Where was she? Melissa tried to make sense of what she was seeing. The last thing she remembered was the van and the endless journey.
The room was faintly lit through a window by the weak sunlight of early dawn. She glanced around; on one side of her she saw the cages with the dog and the cats that she remembered from the van. Karel had picked them up from the port, and they had been next to her in the van. They appeared still and were breathing steadily under sedation. She observed goats and sheep as well, noting with a touch of resentment that their cages were larger than hers.
Unlike the animals, she alone was in chains. The air was heavy with the scent of animals. The door was closed, but she could hear a faint stir outside.
Her memories started to come back. Melissa remembered waking up in the van during the night because of a sharp pain in her upper arm. Upon opening her eyes, she realized her right arm was extended outside the bars of her cage. Karel was there, gripping her arm near the elbow, injecting something into her. The needle was already embedded in her arm, and Karel was in the process of pushing down the plunger to deliver the substance.
Startled, Melissa attempted to retract her arm back into the cage, but Karel kept it firmly in place. He made a calming "shush" sound to reassure her. He explained that she had been crying out in her sleep and kicking and rattling the bars of her cage, causing the cage to shake.
Karel wasn't mad at Melissa; he understood that the prolonged and restrictive confinement was taking a toll on her. She had only recently been enslaved. As a free woman she would not have known restraints. If he was frustrated, it was with himself. He should have given her the sedative for the night, but she had begged him not to. A slave usually had no choice in such matters, yet looking at Melissa with her kind and innocent face, it was difficult for him to refuse her anything.
Karel spoke quietly, explaining that her restlessness was disturbing the other animals, and that the sedative he was administering was effective in keeping animals calm during transport.
At this point it was too late for her to protest, so she grudgingly calmed down and endured the injection. Karel stuck a small adhesive bandage on the injection site and left the cargo hold. Soon after, a warm, drowsy feeling began to spread through her.
Melissa deduced that she must have fallen into a deep sleep and Karel had delivered her to this room while she had been unconscious.
A chilling thought suddenly crossed her mind. Could Karel have exploited her while she was incapacitated? She had no memory of the journey following the injection or of how she ended up in this place; her mind was a void. With her cuffed hands, she reached down to her vagina and checked herself, feeling around for signs of discomfort or pain that might suggest non-consensual penetration. She proceeded to insert a finger into her vagina, careful that the chain of her handcuffs didn’t push against the catheter, exploring her vaginal walls for any signs of unusual tenderness. To her relief, there were none, indicating that Karel had not taken advantage of her.
Melissa waited in silence, with no one entering to explain the situation to her or what would happen to her next.
Eventually, she laid back down and waited. Her limbs were still feeling warm and relaxed from the aftereffects of the sedative.
7. Nala
Eventually, a young chubby black woman in a veterinary nurse uniform came into the room. She was pushing a trolley from cage to cage. She was tending to the animals, but from the vantage point of her cage Melissa couldn’t see what the nurse was doing.
As the nurse worked her way down the row, she was only two cages away from Melissa. Here, Melissa observed her unlock the sheep's cage, place inside a bowl of kibble and another of water, then lock the cage again.
Anticipating her turn, Melissa adjusted herself into a cross-legged position, waiting for the nurse to come to her.
The nurse continued her routine with the goat in the adjacent cage, performing the same task she had with the sheep.
As the nurse went about her tasks, she glanced over at Melissa. Their eyes met through the bars. With a warm smile, the nurse whispered quietly, "Hey, good morning over there!"
She had a kind face, seeming a few years younger than Melissa. Melissa noticed the name tag on her uniform: "N. Tadesse" with "Apprentice" written underneath. Unsure how to respond in such an odd circumstance, Melissa simply said, "Hello."
Then, it was Melissa's turn. The nurse unlocked her cage, swung the door open, and retrieved a bowl from her trolley, passing it to Melissa. "Where are you from?" she inquired.
Melissa lifted her chained hands to take the bowl from the nurse, which contained rice mixed with beans. The thought of finally eating something solid after a day without lifted her spirits.
"I'm from England," Melissa answered. Still seated with her legs crossed, she placed the bowl on her urine bag and the shackles of her ankles and let it lean on her pubic mound and lower abdomen for support.
The nurse then handed her a spoon, saying, "An English girl, huh. You're a long way from home!"
Melissa clumsily maneuvered the spoon with her cuffed hands, managing to scoop some food. The meal was plain, just rice and beans with no sauce, but to Melissa, who hadn't eaten for a day, it was a feast. She ate eagerly, making sure not to waste any of the precious sustenance.
"Mmmhmm," Melissa grunted in affirmation, her mouth full of food.
"How long have you been enslaved?" Nala inquired.
Melissa was concentrating on getting another spoonful of food into her mouth without spilling any, a challenge with her hands cuffed so closely together.
"I was enslaved yesterday," she replied, her voice tinged with sorrow and a touch of bitterness.
"Yesterday! So, you've only just lost your freedom!" the veterinary nurse exclaimed. "Wow. You were a free woman just yesterday. How did that happen?"
"My boyfriend convinced me to go along with a foolish plan. I didn't understand what I was agreeing to, and by the time I did, it was too late. They put a collar on me, stripped me, and locked me in this cage," Melissa explained, taking another mouthful of food.
"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry. You weren't even given a chance to prepare? You were just suddenly thrust into this?"
“Yeah. One moment I was a free woman, next I was a slave. I’m beating myself up about how I could have made such a stupid mistake,” Melissa said while chewing. “I had no idea what I was getting into.”
“Do you think you could take these off while I’m eating, Ma’am?” Melissa asked, lifting her cuffed hands carefully, making sure not to knock over the bowl perched on her lap.
The nurse paused, considering. "Hmm. If I unlock them, do you promise to behave?"
“Yes, Ma’am.”
"You won't resist, no struggling, and you'll do as I say, got it?"
“Yes, Ma’am. I won't make any trouble.”
The nurse rifled through her keychain, then leaned towards Melissa. Melissa raised her hands to be released from the cuffs. The nurse unlocked them, setting them down beside Melissa, the central chain resting over her bare thigh, causing a slight tickle.
“Thank you, Ma’am,” Melissa said. She picked up the bowl in one hand and spooned the food into her mouth with the other. It was a welcome relief.
The nurse placed a water bottle next to her and gave Melissa's leg a sympathetic pat before closing the cage door with a loud clang and locking it with a padlock. She then moved on with her trolley to the next cage, where the dog awaited.
Melissa gulped the food down and asked, ”What will happen to me here?”
“Someone will pick you up soon. I don’t know what exactly is planned for you but basically we do a bunch of health checks and make sure the livestock is up to code.”
Melissa eyed the bowl in front of her. "Is this traditional Grabesh food?”
The nurse laughed loudly, snorting at the end, “No, this is food specially prepared according to the latest nutritional guidelines from the Ministry of Health. It is low in fat, low in salt, low in sugar, low in taste, low in everything that makes food good really. And no meat, no spices and no sauces.”
"Oh, I'm sorry, I just thought, because my boyfriend promised to introduce me to authentic Grabesh cuisine just before I was enslaved that this might be it,” Melissa trailed off, not really complaining. After all, this was her first meal in a day, and given the circumstances, it wasn't at the top of her concerns.
Sensing Melissa needed consoling, the nurse continued, “I swear, this food is not some kind of unusual punishment. The government recommends that we all eat like this, not just slaves. But honestly, I don't know anyone who actually does. I bet even the people who made these guidelines don't eat this way. But we're obliged to provide nutritionally balanced meals to our animals, and this food checks all the health ministry's boxes.”
Melissa chose to ignore being grouped with animals in conversation again. Healthy food is the worst, she thought, but at least she was being fed, so she wouldn't complain.
"Look," the nurse said, as if reading her mind, "I can't help with your enslavement, but I can sneak you some real Grabesh food later if you're interested. How about some fruit, meat, cheese, and a slice of bread? What do you think? Sounds good, new girl from Germany?"
Melissa's face lit up with hope. "You'd do that for me?"
"Sure."
"Yes, please. That would be amazing, thank you, Ma'am."
The nurse stood up and returned to her trolley. "By the way, you can call me Nala. Or Nala-the-nurse-who-gets-you-real-Grabesh-food."
"Okay, thank you Nala-the-nurse-who-is-my-hero. I'm Melissa," Melissa said, and for the first time since being enslaved, she smiled.
"Nice to meet you, Melissa," Nala said as she continued down the line with her trolley.
8. Pick Up
After Nala departed, Melissa found herself once again alone with the caged animals. As they began to stir, the sounds of their movements and vocalizations filled the room. Additionally, the odor intensified, indicating that some of the animals were relieving themselves, making the atmosphere increasingly unpleasant.
Melissa stank and she knew it. She was covered in dried sweat from spending the day and night in the humid van. Her vaginal fluids had seeped on the floor from her frequent catheter-driven masturbation. The scent of masturbation also clung to her body, as she had been forced to sleep on the moist floor. She had been worried that whoever retrieved her from the cage would notice the telltale smell of her masturbation. The smell mixed with the dried sweat that had accumulated on her on her arduous trip in the humid cargo hold. But now it seemed like the heavy smell of the animals in the room might cover up her own odors.
After what seemed like half an hour, a male veterinary nurse came in. The windows at the end of the room had been tilted and he fully opened them. That improved ventilation a lot and after a few moments Melissa smelled the wave of fresh air from her cage, diluting the stench.
Melissa heard the man open a cage and a bit later she saw the nurse walking past her cage with a sheep on a leash, but he took no notice of her.
Every few minutes a nurse came in and did the same, and gradually the animals left the cages.
Finally, Nala came to retrieve her. She unlocked the cage, and Melissa cautiously made her way out. Her hands were still free of the handcuffs but her ankles were still shackled. She held her catheter bag, its tube still connected, in one hand and carried the shackles with the other.
She was relieved to exit her cramped cage and stand upright, after being confined for so long. She enjoyed being able to fully stretch her legs again. Melissa never wanted to see this cage again or think about what had happened in there.
Nala was unfamiliar with a catheter and Melissa had to explain to her what it was and that she couldn’t take it out herself.
Nala took the handcuffs from Melissa and closed them carefully around her wrists. “Don’t want to get into trouble with the Head Nurse,” she said apologetically.
Nala attached a numbered red tag to her collar, and led her out of the room. Nala led Melissa through corridors and they eventually entered a hall.
The floor and the walls of the hall were covered in white tiles. Numerous staff members were bustling about. Melissa observed several large workbenches along the walls, each accompanied by a sink. Veterinary nurses were attending to animals on these benches, and someone was hosing down the floor, the water running into drains in each corner. With a sinking feeling, Melissa noticed that each worker had a cattle prod attached to their belt.
Nala called for assistance, and soon a middle-aged, overweight woman with the stern face of a matriarch approached, her name tag reading “M. Kamau, Head Nurse,” and she held a syringe.
Melissa was led to one of the workbenches and climbed onto it with Nala’s help. The bench had a high backboard to which a chain was attached. Once Melissa was seated, Nala secured the chain to Melissa’s collar with a padlock, ensuring she couldn't leave the bench without being unlocked.
Then, Nala unlocked her transport chains.
Melissa felt a moment of relief when she was freed from the tight transport chains, but was unsettled as she found herself chained by her neck for the first time. Neck chaining was a practice she had considered solely for animals. She was not surprised, all things considered, but this was her first time and she now had to learn to deal with the feeling of being controlled like this. Her fingers instinctively went to the D-ring where Nala’s padlock was securing the chain to her collar.
Freed from her travel chains, Melissa felt the urge to stretch. She knelt on the table, stretched her arms upwards and even extended her fingers. Though in the back of her mind she was aware that from the perspective of the two veterinary nurses in front of her, her posture might appear obscene, the need to stretch was overwhelming. She arched her spine side to side and then backwards, relishing the release.
The feeling of a complete body stretch after prolonged constriction was gratifying. However, once the pleasure of the stretch subsided, she felt exposed to her captors, and she quickly returned to a modest kneeling stance and hid the catheter between her legs. She didn’t like seeing her neck chain hanging down from her, so she draped it over her shoulder.
The veterinary nurses recognized Melissa's need to stretch and waited for her to finish. Melissa knelt and covered her vagina with her hands from view.
The head nurse told Melissa to sit on the table and recline against the wall. Melissa adjusted her chain to drape over her front to avoid any discomfort while leaning back. She was then asked to lift her knees, spread her legs apart, and grip her ankles, positioning herself to remain exposed. This gave the nurse unobstructed access to Melissa's genital area. The room was full of people working and Melissa wished she would at least be shielded by any curtain from view.
While removing the catheter, the nurse explained the procedure to Nala so she would be able to do it in the future. Melissa felt an uncomfortable tickling in her as the tube slid out of her. With the catheter removed, Melissa was relieved. Finally the hated catheter was out! She couldn’t stop a small amount of urine escaping her and trickle onto the table.
The nurse took a hose that was attached to the faucet from the adjacent sink and sprayed off the workbench and also sprayed over Melissa’s vagina and legs. Melissa turned her face away to protect her eyes from the splashes from the hose.
Melissa shut her legs and wrapped her arms around them, hiding her intimate regions from further exposure. Her collar chain draped to her side and behind her where it was fastened to the ring on the headboard.
With the catheter removed, the head nurse left Melissa in Nala’s care.
Melissa observed as Nala produced both handcuffs and ankle restraints. Understanding they were meant for her, Melissa decided to comply.
She detested the feeling of her hands being bound. Ever since her enslavement just a day ago, her hands had been in chains for most of her waking time. Nala had only just taken off her travel restraints, and now she was facing the prospect of being cuffed once again. And Melissa never knew for how long she would be shackled.
But she recalled the agonizing experience with tasers from the day before, administered by officers for the slightest misstep. The staff here carried cattle prods. Unsure of how cattle prods might compare, she had no desire to experience that pain again. Nala seemed to be nice and Melissa trusted that Nala wouldn't punish her without reason, and her strategy for avoiding pain was to be cooperative. She hoped Nala would take pleasure in managing her, rather than passing her to someone less restrained with their use of force.
So when Nala took the handcuffs, Melissa proactively extended her wrists together, ready for the cuffs to be applied, making it easy for Nala to secure them. She did the same with the ankle cuffs.
Nala did not detach the chain from her collar with which she was tethered to the backboard. Instead, Nala unlocked the chain from the backboard and used it as a leash to lead Melissa to her next station.
The white hall had a pulley on one wall with a large, J-shaped hook hanging at chest level. The hook had a long upward-pointing bend.
Nala guided Melissa's hands around the hook, positioning it between her bound wrists. She then cranked the pulley, lifting the hook and Melissa's arms with it, stopping when Melissa's arms were raised but not fully extended.
Glancing up at the hook suspending her arms, Melissa was reminded of the hooks used by butchers to hang animal carcasses.
“Can you get off the hook?” Nala inquired.
Melissa tried to slip her cuffs past the hook's bend, even rising on her toes, but it was futile. She couldn't escape even with her utmost effort. This realization was upsetting, and though she tried to suppress her distress, she felt trapped. Melissa settled back onto her heels, allowing her arms to dangle from the hook.
"No," she said, "I can't, Ma'am."
"Okay. Are you comfortable otherwise? No strain?" Nala asked, caringly stroking Melissa's raised arm.
Melissa nodded, acknowledging Nala's concern, though she was far from comfortable.
Nala fixed Melissa's hair, pulling some strands that had fallen over her face back and letting them cascade down her back. She then adjusted Melissa’s collar, ensuring the D-ring with her leash was positioned in the center. “Great. Someone will come soon and take care of you, Melissa. See you later!”
Melissa nodded once more. While she appreciated Nala's attentiveness to her well-being, she couldn't overlook the ongoing degrading treatment. This inner conflict kept her from responding to Nala with the same casual friendliness that Nala showed her.
9. First Treatment
Melissa felt like she had been waiting for nearly an hour. No one came to check on her or explain what would happen next. She stood naked, her wrists cuffed and her arms hoisted above her head by the hook with a long, upward-pointing end, making escape impossible even when she went on tiptoe. The hook was part of a pulley system, and a chain from her collar hung down to the floor, locked with a padlock. She felt the chain’s weight pulling down on her neck. Her ankles were shackled, but with enough chain to move comfortably.
Eventually a worker attended to her. He checked the number on her tag and compared it with the notes on his clipboard. Then he put the clipboard away and started spraying her with a brown foul smelling liquid. He began with her hair, now drenched, causing the liquid to cascade down her body. He methodically sprayed her from head to toe, instructing her to spread her legs wide for the treatment to reach her pubic area. From the back, he spread her buttocks to spray her anal area.
The spray's intrusion between her legs, touching her in her most intimate places without regard for her as a person, felt like a violation of her body. Yet, alongside the indignity, she was disturbingly aware of an involuntary arousal stemming from the power this stranger exerted over her and her lack of control.
Once he turned off the spray, Melissa coughed, trying to hold back a gag as he circled her, examining his work. She managed to ask, "What is this stuff?"
“A delousing agent,” the worker answered. “It’s standard procedure for all mammals. It needs to stay on for ten to sixty minutes to work. Someone will come to rinse it off later.”
With that he left, leaving Melissa standing with her arms hanging from the hook and dripping brown fluid onto the white tiles below.
Melissa focused on controlling her breath to stave off nausea. She shook her head vigorously to dislodge some of the fluid from her hair, then pressed the sides of her head against her arms in an attempt to wring more out, all the while coughing. Her attempts to shake off the liquid were futile. The stench of the brown fluid remained on her.
She looked around. The hall was full of activity. Veterinary nurses were actively transferring animals between kennels and treatment tables, where they received care. There was a constant flow of employees navigating the area.
—
While she waited, thoughts of Arbek occupied Melissa's mind. Where was he? She clung to the hope that he was aware of her situation and was planning to pick her up once the health authorities released her. It had been more than a day since they were parted, she reflected as the foul-smelling liquid continued to seep from her. She needed to be sure he hadn't abandoned her. Melissa didn't truly believe Arbek would leave her, but she desperately needed confirmation. Couldn't he contact the Health Office and leave a message for her? Perhaps she could even speak to him on the phone. She needed the comfort of knowing she wasn't alone. Arbek was her only connection in this foreign land, and the last time she had seen him was at the airport, expecting a quick reunion after some formalities with the airport police.
He was her sole hope for liberation from this nightmare of slavery.
—
A loud buzzing sound echoed through the room, signaling the start of their morning break. The workers halted their tasks and began to exit the tiled room. As they walked by, some glanced at her, inspecting her body with curiosity, but no one said anything to her. When Melissa looked at employees, her eyes were inevitably drawn to the cattle prods hanging on the workers' belts. These tools were there to inflict pain on her and ensure her obedience. The animals they had been attending to were fastened to a wall by a chain or confined to a transport cage. Meanwhile, Melissa remained attached to the hook.
—
The buzzer sounded again and the workers slowly filled the room again, resuming their work.
Melissa's arms throbbed uncomfortably after being suspended for an extended period. She longed to lower them to allow some blood flow, even briefly. The hard steel of the handcuffs was hurting her as it pushed into the back of her palms. She attempted to ease the pressure by straightening her arms, but she could not do this for a prolonged period of time. Soon, she had to let her hands fall back, and the cuffs would again press into her hands, creating a persistent discomfort.
She hung there, abandoned to her own thoughts. The wait for what might come next was both terrifying, but there was also a twisted sense of anticipation, even if she would not have admitted it. She knew these were medical professionals and even though she was at their mercy, they would not hurt her. Her life was not in any danger.
Melissa wondered if she had been forgotten. But eventually a worker came to attend to her. He hosed her down from head to toe with lukewarm water, rinsing off the delousing chemical.
Then he left her hanging there and no explanation what would be done to her next or when.
10. Killian
Melissa felt the need to use the restroom. The bland but filling meal she had in her cage, combined with the bottle of water she had glugged down to replenish her fluids after sweating in the van, had caught up with her.
When the head veterinary nurse, Mrs. Kamau, walked by with her arms full of test tubes and paperwork, Melissa called out, "Mrs. Kamau? Mrs. Kamau!"
Mrs. Kamau, preoccupied, assured Melissa that she would arrange for someone to assist her.
Shortly afterward, a young Black man approached. He seemed to be around Melissa's age, dressed in plain clothes without a uniform or name tag. He was casually swinging his cattle prod as if it were a toy.
Standing in front of her, he inquired, "You need to use the toilet?"
Melissa nodded, having preferred if a female had been sent for this discrete task, yet here she was, exposed and with her arms raised, facing the man who would take her there.
The young man gave her an appraising look from head to toe, then back up.
"Okay," he said, as if granting her a favor. "I'm Killian, by the way."
“Melissa,” Melissa said, followed by “Ouch!”
Killian had zapped her with the cattle prod. Unlike the tasers she had experienced the day before, which were agonizing, this was just a sharp, quick pain in her leg that faded rapidly. Melissa looked at him, puzzled, until their eyes locked and she recalled the proper etiquette.
“I’m Melissa, Sir,” she corrected herself.
Killian smiled approvingly, nodded and went to the crank. As he passed her, he playfully gave her a double tap on her buttock with the cattle prod. Melissa winced, but there was no electric jolt this time. He started to turn the crank, easing the tension on Melissa's wrists as the hook lowered.
Killian didn't lower the hook by much. Once the hook was low enough for Melissa to potentially remove her handcuffs from the hook, he stopped and looked at her. “Can you get off from here?”
Melissa tried to lift her cuffed hands over the hook, stretching up on her toes, but the end of the hook's curve was out of reach. Why wouldn't he lower it further?
"Lower it more. I can't reach," Melissa said, and quickly added, "Sir," recalling the recent shock.
"Oh, come on," Killian sighed, stepping in front of her, cattle prod still in his grip. He prodded Melissa's upper leg, causing her to desperately reach higher to free herself before he could use the prod again. This action inadvertently thrust her breasts upward, almost as if presenting them to Killian. As she wrestled with the hook, it turned slightly, forcing her to align her body so that her armpit was uncomfortably close to his face, a reminder of her lack of hygiene after the previous day's long, sweaty journey.
Alas, her efforts were in vain. The hook’s bend was just a bit too high.
"It's too high... I can't... Ouch!" Melissa exclaimed as Killian zapped her leg. She was incensed that he would shock her for something beyond her control. He had intentionally set the hook too high, and now he was punishing her for being unable to free herself.
Melissa shot Killian a look of frustrated helplessness. She tried stretching up again, this time lifting as high as she could on her toes, even pushing off from the balls of her feet for added reach. It was close, but not close enough.
"Ouch!" she yelped again as Killian zapped her backside. He had moved to her side. "Stop that!" she demanded, only to receive another mild shock on the other side.
In a desperate move, Melissa attempted to crouch down, though with her arms raised, she couldn't lower herself much. From there, she tried to jump, adding extra momentum with her calves for extra height.
To her relief, this was enough to get her handcuffs over the hook. As she landed, she lost her balance and stumbled forward, managing to break her fall with her hands. The chain around her neck clattered against the tiled floor.
"See, I knew you could do it!" Killian chuckled. "You just needed the right encouragement! I bring out the best in people."
Melissa glared at him in frustration. She quickly got back to her feet. "Can we go now, Sir?"
“Sure. Give me your leash,” Killian instructed, extending his hand.
Reluctantly, Melissa took hold of her leash with her cuffed hands and placed it in his. Killian stretched out his arm, pulling the leash to guide Melissa in front of him. "Let's go," he said, giving her rear a playful tap with the cattle prod, though without activating it.
Startled, Melissa moved forward but was abruptly halted as the leash tightened and her collar yanked her back. Killian had a firm grip on the leash, causing the collar to choke her. Melissa instinctively brought her cuffed hands to her neck, gripping the leash to cushion the harsh pulls.
Killian followed behind her, and Melissa tried to keep pace while maintaining as much distance from him as possible, which wasn't much.
He occasionally tapped her buttocks with the cattle prod, causing her to flinch. When it grazed her skin, it was as if her nervous system focussed on that point of contact. Her skin, which was already sensitive from being naked, reacted with a shiver, when it touched her. She'd turn to face him while walking backward to keep an eye on the dreaded device, but found it too awkward to continue, so she'd turn back to face forward and watch where she was going.
Killian led her out of the white hall, down a corridor to a bathroom just around the corner. The bathroom was large, featuring both a toilet and a shower, all on tiled flooring. He allowed her to use the toilet but stayed in the room, dashing any hope Melissa had for privacy, which by now, didn't surprise her.
Melissa sat on the toilet with Killian standing in front of her, amusing himself with the cattle prod, watching it spark with apparent fascination. His proximity meant he could easily reach out and touch her with it. It was hard enough for her to have to relieve herself naked in front of this man. But each time she saw the sparks, it brought back the memories of the shocks she had received from it in the white hall, making her tense and unable to get a urine stream going.
"Killian, could you please give me some privacy, Sir?" she pleaded. "I can't do this with you standing in front of me, Sir."
Killian looked at her with a disinterested gaze, and to her relief, he stepped out into the corridor, though he left the door open.
He returned when he heard the toilet flush. Killian instructed her to step into the shower. He grabbed a hose connected to a faucet and started rinsing her down. The water was cool, yet bearable. He directed the spray at her vagina first, then had her turn around, spread her legs, and bend over. Melissa complied, spread her legs as far as her hobble allowed, and placed her cuffed hands on the wall for support. He then spread her buttocks with one hand to clean her anus, before moving the water stream down her legs to her feet.
Once done, he told her to turn back around and pass him her leash once more. After she did, the leash felt like an extension of Killian’s will over her and she was at his mercy. He turned and walked away, giving the leash a sharp tug. Melissa yelped as the collar pulled painfully, stumbled forward, nearly tripped over her ankle chains, quickly regained her grip on the leash with her cuffed hands, and hurried after him.
After exiting the bathroom, Killian pulled Melissa’s chain to direct her in front of him again. As before, he intermittently tapped her buttocks with the cattle prod. These light touches on her bare skin sent waves of anticipation through her. Her naked body tensed and relaxed in a rhythm set by his taps. Melissa tried to keep up with his pace, staying as far ahead as possible without being choked by her collar.
Eventually Killian became somewhat disappointed to see that Melissa no longer reacted with the same level of anxiety. Her responses to his taps were less pronounced than before. Bored by her reduced reaction, he decided to add some excitement by setting the cattle prod to a low shock and zapping her buttocks.
Melissa yelped and turned to face him, walking backward. She bent forward in an attempt to move her body away from him, but the collar kept her close, so she ended up walking backward while leaning towards him, clutching the leash close to her collar. She pleaded with him, "Please, Killian, stop! These shocks hurt!"
Killian was grinning, playfully twirling his cattle prod.
"Killian!" Melissa heard a voice from behind her. She turned to see Nala, who was carrying lab equipment. Nala shouted something in Grabesian that Melissa couldn't comprehend. They exchanged a few words, and eventually, Killian responded in a tone suggesting he was giving in. He then attached the cattle prod to his belt and resumed walking. As he passed Melissa, he gave her a friendly slap on the buttocks. Melissa silently mouthed "Thank you" to Nala, pressing her hands together in gratitude. Nala smiled and nodded in acknowledgement. Melissa felt the leash tighten and quickly followed Killian back into the white hall.
Once they were back in the white hall, Melissa approached the hook. Killian adjusted the hook to a slightly lower position, and Melissa, following his lead, raised her bound wrists, the metal cuffs clinking softly, so that the hook nestled between her wrists. After that, Killian operated the crank on the pulley system, elevating the hook once more, securing Melissa in place again.
Killian continued to crank, and as he did, the slack in Melissa's arms disappeared, stretching them upward. Alarm surged through Melissa as Killian kept turning. She was forced onto her tiptoes.
“Stop!” she exclaimed. “Too high! Please, Sir!” Melissa desperately pulled at the handcuffs as if she could bring the hook back down this way. But it was futile, the hook didn’t budge.
Killian walked up to her, positioning himself right in front of her tense, stretched body.
The increased tension created an acute angle where the cuffs met her wrists. Where the cuffs had been loose around her wrists before, the metal was now pressing into her at an angle, the cuffs acting like wedges driven into her flesh by the opposing forces of the hook pulling her up and gravity. The cuffs were biting into her from the force of her weight against the cuffs' unyielding shape.
On the other side of her wrists, the cuffs exerted an outward force, pushing her hands apart, causing her hands to be pushed outward. Her palms formed a V, as if she were trying to reach for something just out of grasp.
Using the back of his hand, Killian softly traced a path along Melissa’s taut upper arm, past her armpit, and over the side of her breast. His touch continued down her abdomen, gently brushing over her pubic area. He did the same on her other side. Each time savoring the process.
Their eyes met. Melissa's breath was labored, strained by the discomfort and the effort to remain on her tiptoes.
Killian unhooked the cattle prod from his belt. He grazed Melissa with it, but didn’t activate it.
"Killian, please, don't," Melissa whispered, her voice shaky with fear and dread of the impending shock. “...Sir.”
“Oh, come on,” he said. “Just one more for old times’ sake.”
He traced the cattle prod lightly over her stomach, its tip gliding up to the base of her breasts before skimming the soft undersides. Melissa's breath shortened, her muscles tightening with the anticipation of a possible shock. She looked into his eyes, trying to discern his next move.
Killian then drew the prod down from her chest, past her navel, and towards her vagina, gently brushing through her pubic hair towards her clitoris.
Melissa's panic escalated. "Killian, no, please!" she begged. Attempting to evade the prod, she arched her back, trying to shift her most sensitive spot away from danger, but her stretched position allowed only the slightest movement. Killian adjusted his aim with the prod, following her, and Melissa twisted slightly, still trying to shield her clitoris from contact.
Killian chuckled and went back to the pulley, cranking it slightly to lift.
Melissa, now balancing on the tips of her toes, felt the cuffs biting into her wrists painfully. Overwhelmed by this, she pleaded with Killian, her voice filled with urgency, "Let me down, please! This really hurts!"
She was on the edge of despair. Turning the crank was as simple for Killian as turning the dial on a radio. All it took was a quick pull on the crank for her world to shift from discomfort to agony. Her heart sank with the weight of her own powerlessness.
Melissa begged, her voice a mix of desperation and plea, "Please, let me down!" She looked into his eyes and saw his displeasure.
“Oh, come on. You're always complaining. Don’t be such a drama queen,” he commented. “Fine. I’ll be merciful today.”
He eased the crank back a notch, letting her settle onto the balls of her feet, still on tiptoes. The relief was immediate, like a breath of air after being submerged for too long. The cuffs continued to pinch her wrists, but the pain had lessened to a tolerable level. But Melissa was shaken by the experience. The episode had been a stark demonstration of her subjugation. She knew that Killian could have left her at the higher setting had he wanted. And there would have been nothing she could have done about it.
“How about this,” Killian said. “You take one more shock from this,” and he held up the cattle prod, “and you get to stand flat-footed again. Deal?”
All Melissa wanted at this moment was to relieve the strain on her calves and have the biting pressure in her wrists go away. She closed her eyes and nodded. She realized this was just a cruel game to him; he didn't need her consent to deliver painful shocks to her. He could do it at his whim.
She felt the cattle prod trace over her body. When it paused at one of her nipples, she held her breath. The tip of the cattle prod traced the areola around her nipple. Then it drifted to the other and did the same there. Melissa shook her head, hoping to redirect him. He continued. The prod's tip edged closer to her vagina, parting her labia.
"No, Killian, please," she whispered in a plea, her eyes still closed.
Then the shock came - not where she had feared, but on her buttocks. She yelped, startled, and sucked in a breath. Killian's laughter rang out. Opening her eyes, Melissa watched as he turned the crank, alleviating the tension on her wrists. Now she could stand comfortably on her feet, and her arms had some slack. She sighed with relief.
Killian smiled at her, “Ok, I’ve got to go now. It was great to meet you, Melissa. Call me if you need anything else!” he said and walked away, giving her another friendly double slap on her butt cheeks as he walked past her.
11. Second Treatment
Melissa stood there for what felt like another ten minutes. Then, another veterinary nurse approached her. Melissa’s wrists were still sore but she was in no pain. He checked the tag on her collar and seemed satisfied.
The nurse was a tall and strong man. He had a bucket with soapy water and a sponge in it. He placed the bucket near Melissa and used the sponge to apply shampoo, meticulously massaging it into her hair with his hands, then her ears, and around her face. When covering her face with lather, he made sure not to block her nose, allowing her to breathe.
The worker was not wearing any protective gloves, directly touching her with his bare hands.
He lathered the exposed portion of her neck above the collar. After that, he lifted the collar to access and treat the area of skin that had been concealed by it.
He applied more shampoo, gently massaging it into her armpits and along her arms. Grooming was important to Melissa and she shaved her armpits regularly. But with the recent chaos in her life she had not found the time. The last time had been over a week ago and now she had some stubbly regrowth.
Though the worker was tender with his touch, the feeling in her armpits prompted Melissa to instinctively try to lower her arms to protect them. However, the handcuffs prevented this, pressing the already sore area of her hands harder against the metal restraints.
He then moved down, carefully kneading her breasts with his sudsy hands, delicately twisting her nipples to work the soap in, and then attending to the undersides of her breasts. Melissa again pulled at her restraints in a reflex in which she would have slapped his groping hands away.
Melissa had long anticipated this moment of cleanliness, imagining she would be in a shower, cleaning herself. Instead, a clothed stranger was doing the job. She appreciated the relief from the dried sweat. The sensation of her breasts being kneaded felt like a massage; in a different context with her boyfriend, she would have enjoyed it. However, here, restrained and exposed, with a stranger who was now stimulating her, she felt conflicted. Her body reacted with involuntary shivers of arousal, especially when her nipples were gently manipulated. Suppressing any sign of pleasure, she tried to appear indifferent.
Shampoo from her hair flowed down, irritating her eyes. Melissa shut them, rubbing her face against her restrained arms to clear away the soapy water, then reopened them.
The man proceeded downwards, lathering her abdomen before attending to her pubic hair with soap.
Melissa squirmed, attempting to shield herself from his groping hands by squeezing her legs together and hunching forward, as much as her bound wrists permitted. The man then held her left nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, pinching it just enough to make his point without applying harsh pressure. He instructed her, “Relax, Miss Maurer. Spread your legs.” Frightened by the threat of his pinch, Melissa tensed. The pinch, though not cruel, was a reminder that she was vulnerable, that she could afford to resist. Her legs, trembling with the dual urge to clamp shut and yield, spread apart under his directive in a reluctant concession to his will.
He carefully inserted his fingers between her labia, both outer and inner, cleaning her private parts thoroughly, reaching up to her clitoris. He then took each labial fold between his fingers, gently pulling them apart to wash the surface, which sent waves of arousal through Melissa. He then used his sudsy fingers to circle and cleanse the area between her inner labia with gentle pressure. At last, he gently glided his soap-lathered fingers across her clitoris, manipulating the clitoral hood to reveal the sensitive area beneath, and circled his fingers to cleanse it thoroughly.
Melissa felt violated by this cleaning of her most private area. Yet, given the degrading experiences she'd faced since being enslaved just a day ago, it didn't shock her as much as it might have. The worker was gentle, and despite her desire to remain detached, the stimulation caused her to breathe heavily. She still could not prevent moaning multiple times. The man, hearing her, commented, “Good, Miss Maurer. Relax.”
Melissa's world narrowed to the point of contact between her skin and his fingers, each touch a violation wrapped in the guise of care. As she felt his fingers intrude, a cold dread mixed with an unwelcome warmth spread through her. She was a captive to his touch, her own flesh responding in ways her mind recoiled against. Arousal, like an uninvited guest, crept in on the heels of his meticulous 'care', leaving Melissa feeling both alien and betrayed by her own body.
The man, standing next to her, tapped her inner thighs to indicate she should spread her legs wider, and she complied. He then started massaging soap into her perineum in circular motions. Melissa was overwhelmed with the instinct to close her legs but the man had once again preemptively pinched her nipple between his fingers, a quiet warning that resistance would be met with instant pain. She resisted her impulse and kept her legs parted, allowing the man to proceed with his task.
Her mind screamed for an escape, for the dignity she knew she deserved. Her chest heaved with shallow breaths from her internal chaos.
From behind her, he parted her buttocks and used soap on her anus. He tried to insert the tip of this soapy finger into her anus.
This was too much for Melissa. The shame overwhelmed her and in a desperate attempt she tried to evade the finger intruding into her, but her suspension from the hook overhead left her with limited mobility. She twisted her body into an arch, managing to move her buttocks away from his probing finger, and turned to her side.
However, the worker brought the bucket closer to Melissa. Then he reached around to her vagina and grabbed her labia with his fist. Melissa inhaled sharply in both shock and pain as the skin of her labia was pulled taut in his clenching grip.
Her inner labia naturally extended beyond the outer ones, so when he grabbed them, a significant amount of the delicate inner tissue was caught in his fist. The sensitivity there made the pulling excruciating. Did this man not understand how tender that area was? Melissa was taking short, shallow breaths, overwhelmed by the stress of her predicament.
Movement now brought her intense pain, so Melissa stopped struggling. The worker adjusted his hold, bringing her back to her initial position, and Melissa adjusted herself to keep her vagina aligned with his fist to prevent any further stretching. Her breath was ragged, each inhalation a conscious effort to keep from sobbing, from screaming out the indignity of it all.
With her labia firmly in his control, he went into a half-kneeling position on her side. With his other hand he once again introduced his fingertip into her anus, Melissa exhaled sharply with indignation, but she stayed still and kept her legs spread. She did not want to give the worker an excuse to tighten his grip. Melissa did not dare imagine how painful that would be.
Melissa gazed upwards at the ceiling, attempting to dissociate from the fact that this was occurring in a room full of people. She hid her face by pressing it against her right arm and pushed the fingernail of her thumb into her index finger, hoping the pain would distract her from the humiliation she felt from the intimate cleaning.
A colleague passed by in front of Melissa and asked the nurse tending to her something. Melissa couldn’t understand what they were talking about because they were speaking Grabesian. The colleague seemed to be asking him something work related and they had an exchange. During their talk, he paused his activity on Melissa, yet he kept his finger inserted in her anus and maintained his grip on her labia.
After the matter was settled, the worker resumed his task with Melissa. As if he had forgotten where he had been interrupted, he repeated the process by applying additional soap to her anal cleft, moving in circles around her sphincter before inserting his fingertip into her once more and twisting it around.
Finally, the nurse was done with that area. Melissa exhaled a sigh of relief. He continued by washing her legs and she lifted each of her feet in turn so he could clean the soles of her feet. She felt the weight of the ankle chain when she lifted her feet but it never went taut.
The worker rinsed her off with a hose starting with her hair and her arms working herself downward and diligently attending to her private parts until Melissa stood there fully cleaned, dripping with water.
The worker put his working gear back, made some notes and then walked away, leaving Melissa tethered to air-dry.
I'm glad it feels more intense now.
Google Docs catches quite a bit, but the spellchecker still pointed out lots of problems.