The Ring

Chapter VII

“You’re healing nicely.” The doctor unwrapped a new lollipop and stuck it in his mouth. “In another couple days I’ll take the stitches out, but you shouldn’t have any noticeable scars.” He traced the stitches, seven in her shoulder and five across her toned stomach, amid a collection of other, smaller scrapes and scratches she’d earned in her attempted attack on Wesley.

Ellie mumbled incoherently. An inflatable pump gag completely filled her mouth, jacking her jaw painfully wide. Immobility had been the theme of her bondage while she recovered. Being strapped down to the gurney she was currently on was a huge improvement to the vacbed she had been stuck in since the doctor cleaned her wounds and stitched her up. The relative freedom of just being bound at her ankles, thighs, waist, shoulders, neck, upper arms and wrists was liberating compared to being compressed across her whole body by the tight latex.

Ellie had never suffered from claustrophobia before, but after what felt like an eternity and was in reality probably at least a few days, it got to her. The pump gag the doctor had put in her mouth was bad, but the added discomfort was a small price to pay to be able to breath air not sucked through a small tube jammed in her mouth, with each breath cut short as her lungs couldn’t physically expand all the way because of the tight latex sheet pressing down on her.

“I’ve got just the thing for you.” He snapped his fingers, summoning his personal slave.

Ellie was relieved the nurse had her mask up, covering her sewn shut mouth from view. It was all she had been able to think about while the doctor had stitched her up.

“Fetch 52375 here a straitjacket in her size.”

The nurse nodded and turned back to leave.

“Scratch that, grab one a size smaller. We’ll make her fit,” he called after her, smiling down at Ellie.

The agent groaned, staring fixedly at the ceiling. She tried to ignore his hands on her naked body while she waited for the nurse to bring back a too tight straitjacket to squeeze her into. She couldn’t imagine that it would be as awful as the vacbed, but she was prepared for the sadistic doctor to find a way to defy her expectations.

“We don’t want you to fall too far behind on your training,” he said, playing with her nipples.

She had no idea what her “training” entailed. She only was aware that Grace was going through it without her.

The click of heels announced the return of the nurse, and Ellie’s eyes flicked in her direction. It wasn’t the canvas affair she expected from her mental image of girls locked away in an asylum, but a black leather straitjacket, the shiny buckles glinting as they swung from the myriad of straps dangling from the restrictive garment. Ellie noted the two holes cut out of the front of the jacket at chest height. Compared to having her breasts uncomfortably squashed for such a long period of time, she honestly was alright with them being bared, even if it would surely come with unwanted attention and molestation.

“Let’s get you suited up,” the doctor said, beginning to loosen the many straps holding her immobile. As her arms were freed, Ellie thought of how easy it would be to reach up and slam the lollipop into the back of his throat while he was busy unbuckling the rest of her bonds. Would the nurse come to her aid while the man who kept her was choking? Would she defend the doctor who had sewn her mouth and pussy shut as a punishment, was she that broken? Or would she just watch on while the man who had stolen her freedom stepped out of Ellie’s reach and waited for more slavers to rush in and punish the impudent agent, still holding the waiting straitjacket?

Ellie wouldn’t find out. Striking out against the doctor wouldn’t accomplish anything she really desired, even if she got lucky and managed to kill the bastard. Wesley might be amused by her act of defiance, but she doubted he was the kind of man to take an attack on one of his henchmen personally. If she wanted his attention, she would have to wait for an opportunity to strike at him directly, and so she didn’t resist as she was pulled up into a sitting position, even stretching up her arms willingly so the nurse could pull the straitjacket over her head, curling her hands into fists at the ends of the sleeves. She seethed internally when he praised her for being a “good girl,” while he manhandled her boobs, forcing them through the frankly too small openings in the front of her jacket. The pump for her gag dangling between her bulging tits, and he gave it a few more squeezes, putting more pressure on her already aching jaw, muffling her involuntary whimpers further.

“Make sure it’s extra tight,” he told his nurse. The glassy eyed woman was already doing that without having been told, but she yanked on the straps even harder, cinching the leather clinging to Ellie’s naked body even tighter, forcing a pained groan from the helpless agent. Her arms were pulled across her stomach, under her breasts, forcing her to hug herself. Her breathing got quicker, sharp puffs through her nose, her nostrils flaring as her upper body was constricted and squeezed in the restrictive leather garment.

“On your feet.” He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her off the table. Ellie’s legs were weak from being immobile for so long, and it took everything she had to not crumple into his arms for support, relying on sheer force of will to keep her trembling legs under her while she stared into the face of her current tormentor.

“It’s a good look for you, 52375.”

Ellie wouldn’t have argued that her tits had rarely looked better, but she was more focused the one extra strap dangling between her legs, the metal buckles slapping against her knees. As uncomfortable as the straitjacket was, she knew the worst had been saved for last, and as she was spun around and bent over the exam table, she braced herself for the leather strap that was about to be threaded between her legs.

As she rested her head on the padded surface of the exam table, looking up at the wall, she noticed a poster she hadn’t seen before. It was a large image of a naked woman on her knees, scrubbing the floors, bound in a leather harness and ballgagged. Beneath it were the bold words, “Work Won’t Set You Free.” Ellie rolled her eyes. They were just leaning into how awful they were, and she had time to wonder if it was the Doctor’s personal touch to his office, or perhaps the twisted humor of Wesley himself, before she was very, very distracted.

She felt her butt cheeks being spread, and a greasy finger poking at her rosebud. The constrained agent couldn’t suppress a muffled squeal of surprise as she felt her back entrance penetrated. She buried her face in the leather padded table, breathing through the sudden discomfort through her nose.

“Go ahead,” she heard the doctor direct his slave. She braced herself, trying to relax to lessen the discomfort of what she knew was coming. The probing finger was pulled out, and something wider pressed against her asshole. Ellie closed her eyes, taking measured breaths through her nose.

The slippery object being shoved inside kept widening as it was forced deeper and deeper. Ellie was no stranger to ass play, and happily wore a plug on the right occasions, though it had been awhile since she’d had one of those. This was larger than anything she had experience with, she was sure, and it was going deeper than she was comfortable with. But she couldn’t protest, nor could she prevent it, so she focused on her breathing, trying to relax until finally her sphincter closed around what she assumed was the flared base. Opening her eyes, she prepared to be pulled back into a standing position so the strap could be pulled between her legs.

That never came. Instead a firm hand was planted on the small of her back, holding her down, and then her eyes shot wide as liquid gushed into her bowels.

The doctor tightened his grip on her, pinning her while she squirmed. “Settle down,” he told her, but his hand groping her ass between spanks seemed to indicate that he enjoyed watching her wiggle uncomfortably as the enema filled her.

Ellie looked back over her shoulder, her eyes darting around frantically until she focused on the nurse, standing next to a red bag dangling from a metal stand. The nurse was holding a valve on the tube hanging from the bottom of the bag, watching on as she allowed the liquid to flow from the bag into the helpless girl in the straitjacket.

“Just relax and let it fill you up,” the doctor whispered, spanking her playfully while she squirmed, climbing up onto her toes, but there was no escape.

The leather tightened around her, but it wasn’t tightening, she realized to her horror. Her belly was swelling, bloated as the contents of the enema bag coursed into her ass. It was agony, cramps wracking her guts as she was filled to what felt like the bursting point. Her time in the vacbed plus however long she was knocked out when Wesley had chloroformed made it hard for her to gage just how long she’d been a captive, but it had been days, multiple, and during that time she’d not had an opportunity to relieve herself in that way, and the enema was doing a great job of reminding her of that need.

“You’ve taken almost half of it,” he whispered in her ear.

Her eyes somehow widened even more. Only half of it?! She already felt ready to explode. Ellie strained her arms, trying to alleviate the pressure on her expanding belly, to no avail. She kicked her feet backwards, but the doctor stepped behind her, pinning her legs against the table. “Ah ah ah,” he chided, slapping her ass. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Nnnnnnph!” she grunted, the pump for her gag swinging back and forth as she shook her head wildly. Maybe it was the time spent locked in the vacbed, maybe this was just one indignity too many, but she was ready to fight even knowing it was futile. She struggled knowing full well there was no escape. Her discomfort grew as the enema rushed into her, the straitjacket squeezing tight her bloated stomach.

“Almost done,” the doctor informed her. The nurse even gave her the bag one last squeeze to ensure that the last of the liquid was emptied into the helpless, straitjacketed agent.

“Now you better clench,” the doctor told her, groping her cheeks while he slowly spun the enema nozzle still wedged inside her. “You better not make a mess on my floor.”

Ellie could barely focus on his words, but she was already very focused on doing just that. Reflexively she clenched, her sphincter holding onto the conical tip as it was pulled out of her. Ellie leg’s quivered as she squeezed them together, desperate to not lose control.

“Just hold it a little longer.”

She looked back over her shoulder to see him holding a hand pump that looked like the one attached to her gag. Her eyes followed the black rubber tube down to where the nurse was lubing up a fat, silicone plug.

“This will keep the enema in,” the doctor said, slowly pumping up the inflatable plug, demonstrating to his helpless patient just how big it could get. Squeeze after squeeze, Ellie’s eyes widened along with the fiendish instrument. There was no way. It was too big.

“Just keep holding it,” he instructed, deflating the plug back to its original, still quite intimidating size, with a hiss of air. The nurse lowered the plug, and it disappeared beneath Ellie’s field of view. Her breathing had gotten out of control, panicked gasps through her nose, and she was sweating profusely, the hot leather sticking to her wet flesh, making it feel even tighter. She was clenching so hard to keep everything in when she felt the tip of the plug press against her stressed asshole. Ellie panted faster, hearing but not processing the doctor’s voice giving instructions while he held her down. She was fighting a losing battle, and the nurse kept pushing. Once the tip penetrated her, it was over. Another wave of cramps washed over her and she was sure she was going to shit herself right then and there, but the plug was already driving deeper, holding everything uncomfortably inside.

Ellie was treated to a momentary sense of a relief, a brief respite from the assault as the plug slid all the way in and her sphincter closed around the fluted base.

And then it started to expand.

The helpless woman whined into her gag, wiggling her ass as if that might do something to alleviate her discomfort. She felt like she was going to be torn in half, split asunder by the monstrous intruder growing inside her, holding back what felt like an ocean that wanted out.

“Almost there,” the doctor said, slapping her jiggling ass. “We don’t want any leaks.”

Ellie buried her face in the hot, sticky, padded leather surface of the table and screamed in frustration. The inflatable gag in her mouth did as good a job at plugging her up as the one in her ass.

“Come on, on the table.” It was easy for him to grab the convenient D-rings on the back of her jacket and pull her to her feet. Fresh waves of cramps rocked through the thoroughly tortured agent and this time she did require his help just to stand, melting into her captor’s arms as he spun her around and lifted her onto the table. The pressure of the plug intensified a thousand fold as she sat down, and the moment the doctor let go of her she fell onto her back, nearly hyperventilating behind her strict gag.

Ellie glanced down at her body and had a moment of cognitive dissonance, so sure was she that her belly would look like it felt, and she had to look at least six months pregnant. But no, her stomach was impossibly flat, crushed under the restrictive black leather of her straitjacket beneath her bulging boobs. She leaned her head back, closing her eyes, trying again to regulate her breathing in an attempt to get the painful cramps under some sort of control.

They’d trained her in the FBI how to withstand torture, but it was nothing like this. She couldn’t imagine her teachers at Quantico telling her that if she got captured, she might be given a massive enema, and when her body overrode her willpower to not shit herself, a massive plug would prevent that from happening, and somehow that would be even worse.

But she could do this. She had to do this; it was just a matter of—

Another bout of cramps tore through her gut as her legs were lifted up. She looked down to see the nurse holding her legs up by her knees, and the doctor unfolding something large and white. Ellie realized that she was likely to be stuck like this for a long time as the nurse lifted her aching butt off the table for the doctor to slide the thick diaper under her. The nurse held her higher, and she could feel the tube to the pump on her butt plug wedged between her cheeks so it would still be accessible, whenever one of her captors deigned to deflate the monster inside her. Or worse, inflate it further.

Her legs were lowered and spread into the waiting stirrups, and the doctor pulled the diaper up over her crotch and taped it tightly across her hips. The diaper seemed about comparable to just peeing on newspapers and preferable to the catheter she’d had forced up her urethra while she was helplessly trapped in the vacbed, but when she considered the enema brewing inside her, the infantile garment taped between her legs seemed far more sinister. She needed to defecate so bad, and she held onto hope that the diaper was just in case something slipped by the massive plug, but deep down, she knew better. Everything they did was perfectly orchestrated to demean, dehumanize and degrade her. The worst part was, even knowing full well what they were doing, didn’t make it any better.

“Just to be sure there’s no leaks,” the doctor said as he pulled a tight fitting, clear rubber panty up her legs. He tugged it over her bulky diaper and tucked the way too tight waistband under the straitjacket, adding to her discomfort as just one more thing made her feel like she was going to burst.

They didn’t even try to stand her up again, merely rolling her onto her side so that the doctor could thread the crotch strap of the straitjacket between her legs and cinch it securely in the back. If she thought the diaper was going to offer her any sort of protection from the strap, she was sorely mistaken as the doctor used both hands to yank it tight, fresh waves of agony washing over her as the plug was driven deeper and the padding of the diaper dug into her pussy.

Ellie attempted to curl into a ball, but she was denied that too, as she was forced to sit up, again putting more pressure on the plug, to watch the nurse roll in a wheelchair. The thing looked like it was straight out of an old hospital, all dull metal and white leather, with built in canvas strap dangling from the backrest, seat, armrests and leg rests.

“Now even though you can’t move, you can still be taken around the facility,” the doctor told him.

A low whimper was all she could muster in response. She took it all back: the vacbed was better. Another fierce cramp hit her as she tried and failed again to expel the enema from her bowels, and she was certain anything was better than this.

She couldn’t stand at all on her own this time as the doctor pulled her up from the table. She hung limply in his arms while the nurse pushed the wheelchair under her, and then he laid her down in the newest instrument of her bondage. The cuffs on the armrests of course went unused, but straps held her to the chair at her ankles, calves, thighs, an excruciating one over her bloated stomach, and her shoulders.

“There we go,” the doctor said as he tightened the one around her middle another brutal notch. “You’re in no danger of tearing your stitches.”

That was what she was worried about. If anything she felt like they might burst from the inside as everything inside her found the easiest point of escape, and with the plug still inflated inside her, it certainly wasn’t getting out the way it was meant to.

“Chin up,” the doctor said, lifting her face to look up at him.

“Nnnmmph,” she groaned.

“We can help you with that, not that you’re in any danger of falling asleep with all the stimulants in your enema.”

Ellie couldn’t imagine a world where she got comfortable enough to fall asleep in her current predicament, but some sort of drug cocktail in the enema churning away inside her, was a new distressing fact to learn. She knew enough about the human body to know that drugs up the butt bypassed the kidneys, which processed out most harmful chemicals, and whatever she’d been dosed with would well and truly fuck with her. She could only hope that the doctor knew enough to not accidentally overdose her on something. He seemed to have a fair idea what he was doing in terms of torturing his victims, and she could only lament the number of poor girls he’d experimented on to gain such knowledge. She supposed she was one of them now, just another victim in an innumerable list, another number in a long string of numbers. Number 52375, the enema experiment.

The nurse produced a matching leather posture collar. The stiff leather hugged her neck, holding her chin up and keeping her from being able to do anything but stare straight ahead. She watched the doctor out of the corner of her eye while he finished doing up the set of buckles behind her neck. He was licking his lips, his tongue stained red from the lollipop he seemed to perpetually have in his mouth.

“All set.” He took a step back, throwing an arm around the nurse and pulling her close while he admired his handiwork.

Elli couldn’t move. She was perfectly restrained to the wheelchair, completely helpless. With the posture collar she couldn’t even move her head. As she looked down, she could see the tops of her heaving breasts and her knees, but the rest of her predicament was hidden from her. She couldn’t look at the straitjacket to assure her brain that the hideous things wasn’t tightening, slowly crushing her like it felt like it was doing.

Sitting was the worst position she could be in. She was trapped in a position where it was hard to not try to expel the enema trapped inside her, and even harder to try to keep it in. She couldn’t squeeze her legs together, and she couldn’t try to spread them. She couldn’t straighten out to relieve the pressure, nor could she hunch over more to deal with the cramping. She was in perpetual agony.

“Well done, Doctor.”

Ellie momentarily forget and tried to turn her head to look behind her, only for the posture collar to keep her facing forward. She didn’t need to see though. She may have been too distracted to hear the telltale click of the cane, but she knew that voice.

“Thank you,” the doctor said.

Ellie held her breath, for once something taking her focus from the turmoil raging inside her.

“Have you missed me?”

He was standing right behind her. She couldn’t look back and confirm, but she knew. She could picture his weathered hands on the handles of her wheelchair. She could imagine the smug smile on his face, the glint in his predatory eyes as he looked down at her. Her eyes darted back and forth and up, but he staid out of her field of vision.

She hadn’t seen him since she’d tried to attack him. She was trying to get his attention, to pull his focus from Grace to her, but she’d spent who knew how long locked up alone, and only god knew what he’d been doing with her partner while he’d been ignoring her.

She felt her wheelchair shift, and slowly she was turned around. Even immobile she had to move to face him, not the other way around.

Wesley stood before her, leaning casually on his cane. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, his free hand gently stroking his chin while he took her in.

“I know you have,” he said. He placed his cane between her feet and leaned in until he was face to face with her. “But don’t worry.” His breath in her face smelled too strongly of mouthwash. “Your friend has seen enough of me for both of you.”

Another cramp tore through her, and Ellie fought to keep silent, to keep him from thinking he was getting a reaction out of her. Her face betrayed her, and his widening smile said everything.

“Would you like to see her?”

Grace. She couldn’t begin to imagine what he might have done to her.

“I’ll show you. I’m in the mood for reunions today.” He stroked her puffed out cheek as he reached past her head and grabbed the handle of the wheelchair, spinning her back around.

“Do you need help?” the doctor offered.

“Of course not. Thank you though. I always appreciate everything you do,” Wesley told him as he started to push his helpless plaything out of the doctor’s office. Ellie winced, feeling every minuscule bump in the floor, every little motion magnified through the plug in her ass.

“Have you learned anything while in time out?”

Time out. She’d tried to kill him, and he was so unfazed by her actions that her punishment was reduced to that of a petulant child acting out. Swaddled up in the jacket and diapered, she couldn’t help but feel like a bratty baby.

“You knew that there was no way I’d let you cut me,” he continued. “You’re too smart for that. I wouldn’t dare underestimate you. And yet you clearly have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

Her breathing quickened, sharp puffs of breath coming through her nose. She tried to attribute it to the fresh wave of cramps, but it wasn’t that.

“You can’t manipulate me, Agent Harper.”

The use of her name, and her job title. It was meant to sting, and it did.

“You don’t blame her for your getting caught. You blame yourself, and you want to protect her. It’s noble. Noble and very useful. To me.”

Hearing him lay out her plan so simply made her feel absolutely foolish. Her motives had been so transparent, to think he’d have been tricked by her. Not tricked, necessarily, she had been trying to, well, she wasn’t sure what she had been trying to do. She’d wanted to kill him, but that felt like so long ago, and all she could think about was alternating between shitting herself and not shitting herself.

“You can’t protect her,” Wesley continued, turning down a corridor, pushing the wheelchair into darkness. Ellie tried to squint, but she couldn’t focus her eyes. “Because the best way to break a girl like you.” The wheelchair came to a halt, and he leaned forward, his mouth right next to her ear. “Is to break her.”

The lights turned on, illuminating the room he had brought them into. Ellie only saw the figure on the floor directly in front of them. The thick, white, viscous liquid that covered her body could only be cum, the not even begun to dry semen did nothing to hide the welts and bruises that covered her partner’s naked body.

“Gmmmmph!” Ellie couldn’t help but cry out upon seeing her friend.

Grace gingerly raised her head, blinking her deep green eyes against the light. “Ellie?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

“Yes, it’s Ellie,” Wesley said, locking the brakes on the wheelchair before stepping around in front, standing over the mess of the girl on the floor. “She wanted to come see you.”

“I’m sorry,” Grace said. Fat tears dripped from her eyes, mixing with the cum still smeared on her cheeks.

Ellie wanted to tell her it was okay, that it wasn’t her fault, that there was nothing to be sorry for. More than anything she wanted to assure her that it was going to be alright. But nothing was going to be alright, and they both knew it. Ellie could only whimper softly.

“Ellie I’m sorry,” Grace blubbered. She tried to crawl towards her friend, her hand slipping in the mess around her, and she collapsed in front of the wheelchair.

“Shhhh shhh shhh,” Wesley chided, hooking the tip of his cane under the redhead’s chin and lifting her face up to look at him. “Show her what you’ve learned.”

“Please,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“You know what to do.”

Ellie couldn’t watch, but she couldn’t turn away. Even when she tried closing her eyes, she could still picture it. Grace climbing shakily to her hands and knees in front of their captor, her arms reaching up, her fingers trembling as she unzipped his pants.

It was supposed to be her. Ellie knew she wouldn’t be able take seeing Grace like this, so she had tried to make it her role, and in doing so she’d only doomed her friend.

Wesley gripped the armrest of her wheelchair for support, his other hand, still clutching his cane, grabbing Grace by her sticky, matted hair. “Good girl 52374, show 52375 just how far you’ve come.”

Grace took him in her hands, cradling his balls and stroking his shaft while she started to suck the head of his dick.

She had no collar, no restraints keeping her in line. Wesley put his precious package between her lips without fear of reprisal. There was nothing to fear. His cocksure smile as he turned to look at Ellie while she helplessly watched on said everything.

His fingers tightened their grip on Grace’s hair, the handle of his cane pressing hard into the back of her head while he guided her, forcing his dick deeper into her mouth. Her slurping, gagging sounds filled the room.

“How does it feel?”

At first Ellie didn’t realize he was talking to her. Not that either woman was in any position to answer, their mouths both thoroughly occupied. But when Grace was not permitted to look up, Ellie cast her eyes upward to see Wesley staring down at her, waiting for her attention.

“True helplessness,” he said. Over Grace’s choked slurping, a soft hiss slowly pervaded her senses. Ellie’s stomach gurgled as her gut churned, and she realized that the pressure in her bowels was subsiding, at least a little. Her eyes cast downward and she saw his hand that had been on her armrest, now holding the pump to her buttplug, his thumb on the little silver dial that released the pressure.

Realization hit her as his smile widened. Reflexively she clenched down on the deflating plug, her deeply instilled decorum overriding her body’s desperate need to void her bowels, at least for the moment.

“You’re absolutely powerless here.” The hissing had stopped, the plug deflated to its smallest state. It was only her crumbling willpower and trembling muscles holding it in now.

“You think you know, you think you understand, but you have no idea yet just how helpless you are.”

Tears welled up in Ellie’s eyes as she fought to hold on, the image of Grace sucking their master’s dick doubling and tripling in her vision. Another cramp hit and she lost control. The deflated plug was pushed out, and she emptied her bowels into the waiting diaper.

Wesley started laughing. He threw his head back, deep belly laughs shaking his frame, while he kept Grace in her place between his legs.

It was hot and wet and sticky and gross and deeply humiliating. Once Ellie had started, she couldn’t stop. Tears ran down her swollen cheeks as she sobbed uncontrollably into her gag. She’d never felt so broken, bound up and completely helpless, literally stewing in her own shame and defeat while she was forced to watch her partner fellate their master.

Wesley’s laughter slowly subsided when his breathing started to quicken. He grabbed Grace’s head with both hands, aggressively fucking her mouth. Her gagging became more distressed as he rammed his dick down her throat, but she never once fought back against her rapist.

“That’s right! I own you! I took you and I made you mine!” he roared as he came, pumping his load down her throat.

Without needing to be told, a gasping, sputtering Grace did her best to lick him clean. She sat back on her haunches, cum still dripping from her full lips down her chin, dribbling onto her welt-covered breasts. She didn’t look at Ellie, her eyes deliberately averted from her helpless partner watching her.

“You’re getting better,” Wesley told her, tilting her head to look up at him.

Grace nodded, her head bobbing in quick jerks.

“I have a present for you.”

Ellie could barely hear her whispering “Please, no,” while Wesley reached into his back pocket and pulled something out.

“You’ll like it,” he assured her, dangling the black padded leather blindfold before her. “It’s a surprise.” Grace obediently bent her head forward, allowing him to strap the blindfold across her eyes. He clapped his hands twice and then walked behind the wheelchair, out of Ellie’s view. She couldn’t see him, but she could sense him right behind her, leaning over the back of her chair. She could feel his breath on her. “It’s not all punishment,” he whispered in her ear. “I believe in positive reinforcement,” he said, reaching around and gently stroking her left nipple. “Just as much as I believe in negative reinforcement.” His other hand wrapped around her and grabbed her right nipple, pinching it hard between his thumb and forefinger, digging his nails into her sensitive flesh, forcing a muted scream into the stifling gag from the helpless captive.

There were footsteps from across the room. A figure approached timidly out of the darkness. Grace turned her head blindly in that direction while Ellie was forced to look on.

“That’s right, come closer,” Wesley said, still groping Ellie’s chest.

The figure tottered forward, advancing slowly into the light. It was a woman, her skin pale and fair and unmarred and while she was thin, she didn’t look malnourished. She was naked save for a black leather hood covering her face. A shock of red hair had been pulled through a hole in the top of the hood in a high ponytail.

“Come say hello,” Wesley said.

She moaned, her hands held up, feeling along blindly as she took a few more tentative steps closer to the sound of his voice.

“Who’s there?” Grace asked.

The new girl stopped, frozen in place. “Graammph?” she mumbled questioningly under the hood into whatever gag surely stopped up her mouth.

Grace’s breathing quickened. She reached out blindly in the direction, her lips trembling, unable to form words.

Ellie could only watch on with the engineer of their torment behind her. She wanted to do something, needed to step in and put a stop to this, to say something, but she couldn’t. She was forced to sit in her own shame, helplessly watching the scene unfold before her. It couldn’t be happening. There had to be some sort of trick, but here it was. It wasn’t possible.

“Say hello to your sister.”

More than the vacbed, more than the super strict straitjacket, and the enema, this, this is what crushed her.

“Tanya!” Grace cried, falling forward as she blindly reached out for the equally blind girl feeling around for her.

All hope that she and Grace could endure whatever Wesley threw at them died when the two redheads embraced.