by Jennifer Harrison
Libbie Chapter 5
The officer who had barked the command at her threw a dirty orange overall at Libbie and stood back to watch. Libbie thought it was rather sleazy of them to have a male officer overseeing this part of the processing, but it didn't surprise her, and she proceeded to slip off her top, skirt and shoes. She pulled on the soiled garment, which was barely adequate - it finished above her knees and elbows, had a zipper at the front which only reached her rib cage, leaving her with a very wide cleavage, and it was too small. It also smelled as though someone had gone to the toilet in it.
The guard stood up and came over to her, placing heavy metal shackles around her wrists, at her elbows and around her ankles. He picked up her clothes and put them into a refuse sack, making Libbie suspect that that was the last she would see of them.
"Back against the wall and arms behind your back," the overweight, but still imposing, guard ordered. When Libbie complied, he pressed a button on the remote at his waist, and she felt her arms pulled back sharply, the shackles snapping together so that her forearms were inseparable.
At the same moment, a metal collar in two halves emerged from the wall and closed tightly around her neck, holding her in place. With an evil grin on his face, the guard approached her.
"There's a message from the chief upstairs," he said. Suddenly, his right fist flew at her and delivered a perfectly placed rabbit punch to her solar plexus, hitting her just below the rib cage.
Libbie reflexively doubled up in pain, gasping for the breath which had been driven out of her. But as soon as she moved, the band around her neck tightened as if to hold her in place. Moments later, it was so tight that her air supply was completely cut off, and her face turned red as she fought to cope with the pain in her stomach and straighten up. She was starting to see stars, and her vision was beginning to darken, before she managed to get her footing again and stand with her back straight against the wall. The collar slowly returned to its previous setting, and she gasped down a rasping breath.
"That’s for keeping us waiting, cunt," the guard said, before returning to his desk and sitting down.
Libbie was left standing there for over an hour before the door through which she had entered opened again and a second woman was pushed into the room. She looked scared, and it was obvious that she was also a prisoner to be processed. She went through the same routine as Libbie, although she didn't receive the punch, and pretty soon was standing alongside her. She was slightly older than Libbie, probably in her late twenties, but fairly attractive - the guard had certainly stared appreciatively at her large breasts and buttocks. Neither of them spoke, partly because they were afraid of the guard's reaction, but also because there was really not much to say.
Another hour and another girl arrived. She looked like a supermodel, very tall with impossibly long legs and big hair. The guard really enjoyed her, and held back her overall so he could examine her naked body in minute detail, forcing her to spread her legs and then to bend over and spread her buttocks for ‘examination’. He only relented when she started to cry, and watched with obvious glee as she struggled to get into the too-small outfit. When she was shackled and attached to the wall, he took the opportunity to cop a feel of her impressive breasts.
A fourth woman arrived soon after and was subjected to the same treatment. She was considerably older than the other three, possibly in her forties, and spent the whole time weeping and wailing, protesting her innocence, saying how it was all a big mistake. Libbie suspected that was a complete waste of energy, but felt desperately sorry for her – of the four of them, she was the one most likely to suffer the full penalty for her crime, with little likelihood it would be commuted so that she could be sold into slavery. No market for mutton when there was so much succulent lamb available…
It appeared that there were no more prisoners due to arrive, because the fat guard came over to the line of women and attached a tight-fitting steel collar to each before using a button on his remote to release them from the wall.
"Okay," he snarled, looking at them with disdain, "we're going to make our way down to the cells, and you aren't going to cause any trouble. Just so that you know, this is what happens if you do."
He pressed another button on the remote, and Libbie felt a searing pain coursing through her body, starting at the neck and spreading outwards. From the screams she heard around her, she knew that the others were receiving the same electric shock emanating from the collars. She staggered backwards, leaning heavily against the wall, her legs turning to jelly. The surge only lasted a few seconds, but it left her gasping for breath and gritting her teeth against the ache in her muscles, while she found swallowing incredibly painful. When she had recovered enough to raise her head and open her eyes, she saw that the other women were now in a state of extreme distress, all three of them weeping, while the supermodel had collapsed to her knees and the older woman was lying on the floor, twitching.
"Let's go," the guard said, kicking the prone woman until she was able to struggle to her feet. He led them through another door into a corridor and then into a small lift. As he squeezed in and the doors closed, he made sure that he was pressed up against the gorgeous young woman who, forced back against the wall, turned her head away from his grinning face. Libbie turned her nose up at the overpowering aroma of sweat and body odour.
The lift descended and, when it opened, they found themselves in another corridor, this one with bare breezeblock walls and a line of recessed doors, clearly cell doors. The guard led the way to one of the doors about halfway down the corridor and opened it. He grabbed the older woman and roughly pushed her into the cell, then seized the supermodel and forced her in there too, giving her behind a good feel as he did so. He pulled the door shut and moved on, with Libbie and the other woman following him.
Libbie found herself pushed into another cell, hard enough to make her trip and fall. When she looked up, she saw that the other girl was also inside the confined space and she just caught sight of the guard’s leering face before he slammed the door on them. At the same moment, the shackles holding her arms together behind her back sprang apart, allowing her to get to her feet and take a look around.
The accommodation was sparse, to say the least. There were two bunk beds on one wall, and the room was only slightly longer than those beds, while it was even narrower than it was deep, leaving very little room to move around. The only other item of ‘furniture’ was a crude toilet - basically a seat with a bucket underneath it. The door had no handle on this side, only a small slot where the guard outside could look in, and there were no windows, the bright, flat light provided by a sealed unit in the ceiling.
"Welcome to the Hotel Paradiso," Libbie said quietly, before turning to the other woman. "Hi, I'm Libbie." The other woman looked at Libbie suspiciously for a moment, then took her proffered hand.
"Hi, Kristin," she said, running her other hand through her short, black hair, "the staff here definitely need to work on their customer service skills." The two women smiled at each other - gallows humour, Libbie thought, nothing like it for breaking the ice.
"So, would madame prefer these excellent lower accommodations, or perhaps the magnificent view afforded by the upper tier?" Kristin laughed at this - it was fairly weak humour, but it was the effort that counted.
"I'll take the bottom bunk," she replied, "euw, no offence, but you stink!" Libbie looked sharply at her, but could see from her smile that she was joking.
"I'll just go take a shower then - oh no! We seem to have booked a room with no en suite!"
With nothing better to do, in fact nothing at all to do, the two women climbed onto the bunks and stared silently at the ceiling or, in Kristin's case, at the bottom of the bunk above.
"So, what have they got you in here for?" Libbie asked into the air above her.
"That's a good question," she heard Kristin’s voice from below, "I caught my husband in bed with his secretary, but I'm the one who ends up on a charge of adultery! What is this world coming to?"
"A sticky end, I think," Libbie responded, "that's a pretty tough break. Do you know if they have any evidence?"
"They have my darling husband's word," the woman sneered, "which wouldn't normally be a problem, his word against mine, except that he is pretty rich, and he’s friends with a senior judge. So, it's what they call an open-and-shut case. Probably swiftly followed by an open-and-shut coffin!"
Libbie heard the quiet sobs of the woman below her.
"Don't worry," she said in what she hoped was a reassuring tone, "you're young and good-looking, you'll just get slavery."
"Pardon me, but that doesn't sound too wonderful an option," Kristin said bitterly, "being sold to some other bastard to be used as a sex slave is not the career path I would have chosen." Libbie wanted to say something positive, but really couldn't think of anything, so they lapsed into an uneasy silence once again.
"What about you?" Kristin asked a little later, when she had recovered her composure.
"Well, I haven't exactly seen a charge sheet," Libbie responded, "but I think it's murder, something trivial like that."
"Geez," she heard from the bunk below, "should I be worried?"
"Not unless you intend to make my sister become a prostitute and then get her killed." Another awkward silence ensued as they each considered the bitter turns their lives had taken.
Their thoughts were interrupted a little later by the sound of the door being opened. The fat guard was back, and was carrying a tray containing two plates of some indeterminate brown slop, presumably their dinner, plus a bottle of water.
"Grub’s up," he growled, "who wants to earn it?" The women watched as he unzipped his fly and pulled out his semi-erect penis. They looked at each other, Kristin with an expression which combined disbelief and disgust, Libbie’s showing resignation.
"You have got to be kidding," Kristin said to the obese man, the revulsion clear in her voice, "we're not that desperate!"
"Suit yourself, cunt," he spat back angrily, "maybe you will be more cooperative tomorrow night." With that, he turned on his heel and left, taking the tray with him and slamming the door closed.
"Top marks for bravado," Libbie said quietly, "but maybe not the best idea, pissing off the guy with the food."
"Did you want to suck him off?" Kristin shot back accusingly.
"Not really," the younger woman replied, "but I am quite hungry. I'm pretty sure his hors d'oeuvre is going to look a lot more attractive tomorrow." As the two women looked at each other, contemplating the harsh realities of their situation, the light above went out, plunging them into total darkness.
"Well," Libbie said into the Stygian blackness, "I guess we won't be watching a little TV before bedtime then. Good night, Kristin." The only response was the sound of quiet sobbing from below.
* * * * *
Libbie was woken by the light snapping on, leaving her disoriented. The door clanged open and two guards stomped in.
"Stand by your beds!" one of them barked, "snap inspection!"
When Libbie complied, he grabbed her, roughly spinning her around and bending her over the bunk. He pulled her arm out across the bed and, with a loud click, the metal cuff around her wrist attached itself to the metal rail on the far side of the bed. He repeated this on her other arm and, pull as she might, she couldn't free her hands. The guard kicked her feet apart, and she heard two more loud clicks as the cuffs on her ankles attached to the metal rail near the floor, leaving her stretched out over the bunk, her rear end presented to the room.
She looked to her side and saw that Kristin was being similarly manhandled by the other guard. She was clamped to the bed like Libbie, except that she was bent over backwards across the bunk, putting a terrible strain on her back and leaving her front exposed and vulnerable.
"I think this calls for a strip search," the other guard said as he pulled down the zip on Kristin’s boiler suit all the way between her legs and up her back, baring her breasts and providing access to her exposed pussy. Meanwhile, Libbie felt her own uniform opened and yanked apart to fully expose her buttocks as well as her vagina.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Kristin screamed, but seconds later her cries were muffled. Libbie felt the guard behind her grab her hair and pull back her head painfully. But, as she opened her mouth to cry out, something was pushed into it, something small which immediately began to expand, quickly filling her oral cavity and forcing her jaws painfully apart.
"Let's see if you're hiding anything, cunt," the guard behind Libbie growled, and thrust his standard issue truncheon into her anus. He grinned as the young woman struggled uselessly against the bonds holding her in place and screamed ineffectually into the instant gag which had reacted on contact with her saliva, rendering her speechless.
Kristin was also screaming into her instant gag as her guard groped her breasts and pinched her nipples, pulling on them painfully. She tried to shut out what was happening to her, but when she felt thick, coarse fingers thrusting into her, she raised her head and shook it pleadingly at the grinning face before her. He did take his fingers out of her pussy, but only so that he could force them into her face, wiping them on her cheeks, laughing as he did so. Another muffled scream came from her packed mouth as she felt his erection slam into her, driving with such force that she was lifted off the bed with each animal thrust. Tears streamed down her face as the violent rape went on and on.
On the bed next to her, Libbie was suffering similar torments, the only difference being that she was anally raped, her sphincter stretched around the thick cock so tight that she was sure it would tear. The cell was filled with the sound of muffled cries, squeaking bedsprings and, eventually, the grunts and cries of the two men as they reached their climax and pumped their seed into the tortured women.
The slamming of the cell door signalled the end of their torment. Moments later, the cuffs released from the bed and the women slumped onto the floor, tears of pain and shame still burning their cheeks as they picked the gag material from between their lips. Eventually, they straightened their inadequate clothing as best they could and crawled back into the bunks to try and forget the nightmare which had just engulfed them and get some sleep.
* * * * *
“Okay, Parker, on your feet, you have a visitor!”
Libbie scrambled down off her bunk and looked at the guard with a mixture of astonishment, confusion and hope. Who would be visiting her? Was there a chance of release? Had Joe come up with something to get her out of here? The guard clipped what looked like a dog leash to her collar and then used his remote to lock her arms behind her back at the wrists and elbows.
"Any chance of some food?" Kristin piped up, "we've been here more than twelve h-"
"Meals are once a day," the guard barked, "you had your chance." He dragged Libbie out of the cell and slammed the door, leaving Kristin with her hunger and the uncertainty of whether she would see her cellmate again.
Libbie was taken down the corridor and led through a door with the legend "Interview Room" on it. Inside was a table and single chair facing a square black pillar. Her cuffs released and she was backed up against the pillar. Moments later, the cuffs dragged her arms backwards and locked on either side of the pillar, pinning her against the metallic surface. The cuffs around her ankles then activated, pulling her legs, and forcing her feet back in a similar position to her arms. Thus fully restrained, she watched as the guard removed the leash and walked out, leaving her alone. She struggled to free herself, but the cuffs seemed to be magnetised, and there was absolutely no give. After a few minutes, she gave up and waited to find out what would happen next.
She must have been left there for over an hour, and her biceps, hamstrings and calf muscles were all screaming in protest, when the door finally opened again. A young man in a cheap suit came in and sat at the table in front of her, consulting his tablet for several minutes without looking up at her.
"So… Oliver… Pinter?" The young man squinted at the screen in front of him, then looked up at the restrained woman, then back down of the screen again in confusion.
"I think you mean Olivia Parker," Libbie said in a slightly annoyed tone, "who are you?"
"My name is John Green," the young man responded, looking up at her again, this time allowing his eyes to roam over her body, "I am your court-appointed barrister." He gave her a smile, but she noticed it didn't reach his eyes, and the way he surreptitiously licked his lips gave away what was uppermost in his thoughts. After ogling her for an uncomfortably long time, he looked back down at his notes.
"So, Olivia, it says here that you murdered a man," he went on, "is that true?"
"Yes, but there were extenuating circumstances," she replied, "the man had caused the death of my sister."
"Be that as it may," Green said very firmly, "murder is murder, and the court doesn't want to hear your sob story, it will be taken as wasting the court’s time and probably result in a stiffer sentence."
"Stiffer than the death penalty?" Libbie responded sarcastically. She didn't like this man's attitude.
"I strongly recommend that you plead guilty and throw yourself on the mercy of the court," he said angrily, "I think I can get your sentence commuted to slavery as long as you don't rock the boat."
"Well, what a surprise!" she exclaimed, "is there any chance I could get a new barrister? You know, someone who might be interested in listening to my side of the story?" Green, looking exasperated, put down his tablet and came around to stand in front of Libbie.
"You're a feisty one, aren't you?" he remarked, the mirthless smile returning as he ran a well-manicured fingernail down across her chest and into her cleavage.
"Some people round here won't like that," he went on, whilst he slowly pulled the zip on her jumpsuit down across her stomach and between her legs, "they'll want to beat it out of you." When he said this, he slapped her hard across the face, banging her head back against the pillar. She felt a searing pain in her cheek and realised that his nails had gouged her skin. She felt as in trickle of blood running down to her jaw line.
"As your barrister, I would advise that you take a more respectful tone," he smiled, wiping her blood with his finger and sucking it clean, "you can start by addressing me as ‘Sir’." Libbie stared into his cold, cruel eyes and struggled in vain to keep the look of loathing from her face. It was obvious that the man was weak and pathetic, but she was hardly in a position to prove it to him, and realised that discretion was the better part of valour in this situation.
"Thank you for your valuable advice… Sir," she managed to say through gritted teeth.
"That's better," he purred, his smile widening, "I can be a good friend to you, Olivia." His hand slid down over her stomach, parting the flimsy prison garment and delving between her thighs. Despite herself, she gasped as his fingers penetrated her, his thumb rolling over her clitoris, sending unwanted sensations through her body.
"You see?" Green breathed into her ear as he pressed his body against hers, "it's called quid pro quo - I do something for you, you do something for me."
Libbie felt a downward pull on her arms and, despite her resistance, found herself dragged down by the cuffs until she was on her knees. She looked up at the barrister to see that he was holding a remote control in one hand, whilst the other unbuckled his trousers.
"Now, I know you are going to be very careful here, aren't you, Olivia?" As he said this, he pressed a button on the remote and Libbie screamed as a violent electric shock ran through her body from the collar.
"Call it enlightened self-interest if you like," Green said as he watched the woman squirm, her face twisted in agony and then, when the shock abated, gasp for breath, her skin glistening with sweat in a very alluring way. “But I know you’re going to be very careful not to hurt me, so I don’t hurt you anymore. And I’m sure you’re really going to try your hardest to please me, aren’t you, Olivia?”
By the time he had finished talking, his trousers and shorts were down around his ankles, and his fully erect penis was inches from her face. The smell of sex was pungent, and Libbie looked at the long, thick member with distaste.
“Open wide,” he cooed, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling back sharply. Libbie opened her mouth to cry out in pain, but found herself gagging on his cock as he thrust it in deep, choking her. There was little she could do to either control the blowjob or even enhance his experience as he fucked her mouth with no finesse, trying to force himself down her throat. All she could do was fight for breath and hope he would finish quickly.
The assault was deeply unpleasant, brutishly violent, but thankfully, short. Pretty soon, he was grunting and moaning, gripping her head tightly and thrusting wildly. Libbie felt his cock twitch in her mouth and was suddenly inundated by a flood of his hot semen. While she coughed and spluttered, forced to swallow some of his cum just so that she could breathe, he pulled out and deliberately aimed his final, convulsive spurts across her face and into her hair. He looked down at the mess he had made, the cum dribbling from her lips to join that already smeared across her cheeks, nose and eyelids, and smirked – he enjoyed the sight of her, helpless and filthied, on her knees before him. With a quick look at his watch, he pulled up his pants.
"Oh, one other piece of advice for free," he said, looking down at the kneeling girl. He pressed the button on his remote and smiled as he listened to the screams and watched her writhe in agony as the electricity coursed through her body once more.
"Don't ever believe anyone when they say they're not going to hurt you. See you in court!" With that, he left the interview room. Libbie panted as she tried to process the pain, sweat once again breaking out across her face and body. She slumped forward, head lolling on her chest, only held upright by her bondage.
She waited for what seemed like hours before a guard finally came into the room, released her and took her back to her cell, where she fell to the floor in front of Kristin.
"Jesus!" exclaimed the distraught woman looking at the state of her cellmate, "it looks like they gave you a pretty bad time!" She helped Libbie onto her bunk and tried to clean some of the gobbets of congealed semen from her face and hair with her sleeve. When she finally felt recovered enough to speak, Libbie explained what had happened to her, and how she had been forced to fellate her lawyer. Kristin gave her a sympathetic look, but then broke out into a smile, despite her best efforts to suppress it. Libbie looked at her questioningly.
"I was just wondering," Kristin said sheepishly, "as you were giving a blow job… whether you at least got dinner for it." The two women stared each other for a long moment, and then burst into laughter.
* * * * *
“Okay, Parker, let's go, court appearance.”
It had been three days since her rape by the barrister, three days of pure hell. They had eventually been fed, but only after blowing the guard. The two women took it in turns to perform this disgusting act on the fat night officer who was always the one to bring the food. After tasting it, they wondered whether it was worth the effort, but in the end they hungrily devoured every morsel.
At random times of the day and night, their cell was visited by groups of guards, and they were raped, violently, dispassionately, by two or even three men at a time. They seemed to delight in humiliating them at every opportunity, on one occasion making them perform oral sex on each other after they had already been raped, so that they were forced to lick the cum of the guards out of each other’s cunt, to the great amusement of the watching men. They also enjoyed torturing the prisoners, using whips and canes, which seemed to be standard issue.
"Strip," the guard ordered, causing Libbie to look up in consternation.
"Do I get something clean to wear to court?" she asked.
"What do you think?" he replied, with a sneer on his face. When she was naked, her wrists and elbows locked together behind her back, making her grimace at the sudden pain in her shoulders.
"Good luck, Libbie," Kristin said, giving her an encouraging smile, "give ‘em hell.”
"I'm not sure that would be the best approach," Libbie replied as she was led out of the cell, "but thanks for the sentiment."
She was taken down the corridor and into the elevator, which ascended rapidly. They exited into a much wider corridor, lined with large picture windows, giving the prisoner her first view of sunlight since she had arrived. The corridor was also thronged with people, some dressed in traditional wig and gown of the barrister talking to their clients, who were a mix of well-dressed and confident rich people, and others much more nervous of their chances of surviving the legal process. Some of them looked on Libbie with wide-eyed horror, some with contempt, while others ignored the naked, chained beauty in their midst.
She was led through a door and passed on to another guard, who hustled her up a flight of stairs. When she emerged at the top, she found herself looking out over a deserted court room, all polished wooden benches and panelling.
"Stand on the X," the guard gruffly ordered. Libbie looked down and saw the cross marked on the floor and moved over to stand on it. As soon as she did, a thick, transparent tube rose out of the floor, enclosing her as it continued up, sliding into a fitting on the ceiling. Immediately, the cuffs on her wrists and elbows released, and she placed her hands on the plexiglass material surrounding her, encasing her like some specimen. She balled her fist and pounded on the smooth surface, but it was clearly very secure.
She heard a noise and looked up to see people filing into the room. All in wigs and gowns, they appeared to be clerks and recorders. She noticed that the benches where the jury would sit remained empty. She saw her barrister, Green, walk in and settle at one of the tables, but he didn't look at her. After a few minutes, the door at the back of the judges’ bench opened and an elderly man in robes and wig entered.
"All rise," the clerk in front of the bench said and the half dozen or so people present stood up. The sound came to Libbie as if through a tannoy and, looking up, she saw a speaker on the ceiling above her.
"Kneel, prisoner," the guard beside her said. She looked around at him questioningly, only to see him level one of the dreaded remote controls at her. Instantly, she was screaming in agony, clutching at the collar around her neck. Her spasming body bounced off the plexiglass and she fell to her knees. The electric shock stopped, and she panted for breath.
“Having any trouble, usher?” the judge asked laconically as he took his seat.
“No, sir,” the guard responded, “just teaching the defendant a little court etiquette.” Libbie glanced around nervously and saw Green looking at her, an unpleasant smile on his face.
“Very well, let’s get on with it,” the judge said, looking down at the table in front of him, “charges?”
“Murder, m’lud,” the clerk read out, “as well as conspiracy to procure prostitutes, illegal abduction, and two counts of prostitution.”
"How does the defendant plead?"
"Not guilty, Sir," Libbie said clearly and firmly.
"Guilty as charged, m’lud," Green said. Libbie shot a glance at him and then at the judge, neither of whom were looking at her.
"I do not plead guilty!" she protested, her voice rising, "I'm innocent! I deserve the right to a fair trial! Hello? Can anybody hear me?!" She was shouting by now, but no-one was paying her any attention. She turned to the usher, to see an evil smirk on his face.
"They can't hear me!" she yelled, banging on the glass with her fists. "The sound isn't working! Do something, you fat fucking oaf!" She gesticulated, pointing to her mouth and then to her ears, shaking her head, but the man just turned away.
"Well, having reviewed the evidence," the judge went on, unperturbed, "I find the defendant guilty." Libbie looked on in horror, unable to believe that she had been condemned without even a chance to say a word, to put her side of the story.
"May it please the Court," her barrister began, rising to his feet, "given the defendant's cooperation in this case, we would ask for the court’s mercy in sentencing." The judge looked over at Libbie, seemingly for the first time.
"Present the defendant, usher," he ordered in a disinterested tone. The guard pressed a button on his remote and Libbie felt her arms shoot up above her head, her legs pulled apart, and she found herself splayed out in a spreadeagled position, her feet not even touching the floor. Very slowly, her body began to rotate, allowing the court to examine her naked form from every possible angle. She felt like she was on display in some perverse shop window as she turned like a rotisserie chicken and saw every pair of eyes fixed on her.
"Very well," the judge said eventually. At that moment, the force holding her up ceased, and Libbie fell to the floor. "Olivia Mary Parker, I sentence you to death for the heinous crime of murder, commuted to a lifetime of slavery. Should you attempt to escape the custody of your legal owner, the death penalty will be re-imposed with immediate effect. Case closed!"
Libbie felt the floor beneath her move and she was lowered into the darkness below.
* * * * *
Libbie awoke from the anaesthetic with a blinding headache. She reached up and touched her forehead, encountering the small silver disc which marked her as the slave she now was. She knew that it was just the visible manifestation of the web of electrodes which were now permanently wired into her brain, reaching into and controlling the centres of pleasure, and of pain. The operation could not be reversed, not without killing her. She was a slave for the rest of her life, however long or short that might be.
"Okay, this one's ready for shipping to market," the nurse standing over her said to her colleague, who began to wheel away the trolley to which Libbie was shackled.
"No, wait," the nurse went on, holding up her hand as she consulted her notes, "this one's a pre-order. And they want some custom work done on it before delivery. Bring it back and I'll prep it for surgery again."
"What? Wait! What's going on?" Libbie asked as she was brought back to the nurse. The uniformed woman ignored the slave before her and placed the clear plastic mask over her nose and mouth.
"Please! I don't understand…" Libbie's voice, already indistinct through the mask, quickly became slurred as she breathed in the gas, and then stopped altogether as she became unconscious.
* * * * *
Joe closed his apartment door, went into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of wine. He had seen that Libbie's case was scheduled to be heard today, and he would be able to check the court records tomorrow to find out the outcome, although he was already certain that she would be sentenced to slavery - she was young and pretty, it was inevitable. He had pulled together all of his finances, including a few unofficial accounts he had ‘liberated’ during his career, and he reckoned he could put in a winning bid. All he had to do now was to wait for the court auction which would be held at the end of the month. He took his wine into the sitting area and slumped down, flicking on the TV.
He switched to the BBC News channel for the 11PM bulletin, partly because he liked their coverage, but mainly for the anchor. Daniella Duchovny had been a cub reporter on local news. Now, a year and some radical surgery later, she was Danni D, her 38EE chest barely constrained by a bikini top comprising only enough material to cover her seemingly permanently erect nipples. He particularly enjoyed her incisive political interviews, in which she grilled some of the most powerful figures in the country, all shot from behind and low angle, showcasing her spectacular rear, her plump buttocks framed by a flimsy thong. Rumours abounded that she’d had cosmetic implants there too, but to Joe’s mind, it had been worth every penny.
Joe sat back and closed his eyes. But it wasn’t the pneumatic newscaster who danced before his mind’s eye. It was the young woman who had ignited his desire to rejoin the human race, the one who had made him think about someone other than himself, the one he had delivered up to the legal system to be enslaved, the one who, in less than a week, he hoped to own. It wasn’t a conventional path for true love, he knew, but in this fucked-up world, maybe it was the best he could do…
“And finally, London got a little safer, and a little richer, today as n0otorious criminal Olivia Parker was convicted of murder and sold to an unnamed foreign buyer for a record sum. As she was led away from the Central Criminal Court today, a spokesman said…”
Joe didn’t hear anymore, he was staring in horror at the image on the screen. He could tell that the naked woman being taken from the court building through a scrum of reporters was Libbie, but not as he had last seen her less than a week previously. He could see the silver slave disc on her forehead, but that was not what shocked him.
She was completely bald, and her bare scalp was covered by metal spikes about six inches long which looked as if they had been attached directly to the skull beneath as they protruded straight out. Her eyebrows had gone as well, replaced by a line of metal studs. Large, silver-coloured rings adorned her earlobes, the septum of her nose, and her nipples. Attached to the rings were weights which swung as she stumbled through the throng, pulling on the pierced flesh. There was also a weight hanging from her mouth, attached to a piercing in her tongue and pulling it out beyond her lips.
Her whole neck was encased in a steel collar, preventing her from turning her head, and forcing her chin up. Across the back of the collar, a steel bar was attached which extended horizontally on either side. Her arms were held out as if attached to the bar of a crucifix, what looked to Joe like barbed wire wrapped around her arms from shoulder to wrist. He could see that the barbs had drawn blood, which trickled down her arms.
Joe looked at Libbie’s bald crotch, and saw the glint of rings in her labia. These were smaller than the others, but as he froze the image and zoomed in, he identified four rings on each side, in pairs. Each pair was joined by a heavy padlock, preventing access to her sex by anyone except the keyholder.
He zoomed the image back out until he could see her whole, tortured body again, wondering who had done this to her, and why.
“Oh God, Libbie, I’m so sorry,” he breathed, shaking his head. As he ran the footage on in slow motion, he saw her twist her body and stare into the camera. He froze the image again and zoomed in on her eyes. He stared mutely at the look of abject terror he saw there, and he felt his own eyes filling with tears of regret, sorrow and guilt at what he had allowed to happen to this beautiful, wonderful girl.
At that moment he vowed that, whatever it took, he would get her back.
End of part 2
Copyright© 2014 by Jennifer Harrison. All rights reserved.