Don't Drink and Drive 02

This is the second part of the story of Sofia and Miguel. I intend to have 3 or 4 more parts that will deal with the mutual discovery of Sofia and Miguel and their relationship, Sofia's integration into school and society but with the status of a slave, the execution of the sentence of 500 lashes, and its implementation. -------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------- "Click, clack."

The sound of the collar closing around my neck echoed the words I had spoken seconds before, and all the people staring at me in the courtroom, were a weight I couldn't bear. I let the tears stream down my face.

"I declare this trial closed! I thank everyone who has been present for their time", he banged the gavel, and after a few seconds, he descended from his podium, spoke with the bailiff, who then spoke to my 'owner' and my lawyer.

I've known Dr. Meireles for over 20 years; he was my college colleague and later dated one of my cousins. Now, he was here, watching me naked and on my knees with a slave collar. I think of all the persons who saw naked me today, he was the one who embarrassed me the most.

"Sofia, Mr. Miguel, we now have to go through the bureaucratic and technical part. The bailiff said we should accompany him to the technical department", Dr. Meireles said in his deep voice.

The bailiff said something to my master, and he then looked at me and said, "Stand up, So...slave, come with us.' His voice wasn't like Dr. Meireles's; it was nasal, and he didn't sound sure of what he was saying or doing.

The four of us walked through the courthouse corridors until we reached a room in the basement.

"Ministry of Justice, Department of Sentence Execution. 1st section."

"We entered a brightly lit room with fluorescent lights and white walls. Seated at a desk was a woman in a white coat. The bailiff handed her a dossier, and after a quick examination, she looked me up and down. She typed something into the computer, then aimed an electronic scanner at my slave collar, which emitted a beep. Afterward, she handed a document to my owner.

"Mr. Miguel Mourato, this pen contains all the information regarding your slave's collar, and an electronic version of the Judicial Slave Guide, 4th edition, revised and annotated. I advise you to take the time to read it."

My owner read the document for a few minutes and then inquired, "What data will be collected, and what are the incentives and benefits mentioned here?"

"The Judicial Slave program is relatively new, and the Ministry of Justice has a protocol with the University of Lisbon and a multinational corporation to enhance the functionality and security of the program. It collects sensory and motor information from your slave and her interactions with the environment. This information is then utilized to calibrate the slave collars." she explained

"Understood, but does the document also mention various benefits and incentives?"

"Of course, data collection must be rewarded. Therefore, in addition to a monthly payment of €500, you will receive health insurance for your slave, and you are also entitled to all new software updates for the Collar completely free of charge."

He reread the document and then signed it, handing it over to the technician. It's strange how they talked about collecting my data without seeking my opinion, and even stranger is my lack of reaction.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Miguel. Your slave will be ready for you no later than tomorrow at 1 pm. If there are any changes to the schedule, we will get in touch with you."

"The bailiff bid farewell to Dr. Meireles and my owner."Until tomorrow, gentlemen. Have a good rest of the day." Afterward, they led me to another adjoining room."

"This new room was more spacious than the first. In addition to two women and a man in white coats, it had a counter with computers and various medical and electronic instruments, some of which I didn't recognize. My gaze was drawn to something resembling a mix between a gynecological examination table and a gyroscope, with multiple Velcro straps clearly intended to restrain me. The terror on my face must have been evident.

"Allow me to introduce myself; I am Professor Nuno, and these are my assistants, Cecila and Elizabete," he said, pointing to the two women. "I'm sure you're anxious and frightened, but I assure you that nothing harmful will happen to you, Mrs...?"

"I am Sofia..., sorry... but may I ask what you're going to do to me?" I looked fearfully at the bailiff and the Professor.

He read my file and resumed: "I see that you are a person with higher education; it's rare but makes the explanation easier. As you may have noticed, you are not handcuffed, and neither I nor my assistants have weapons."

"The bailiff has a baton," I said.

"Yes, he has a baton, but not all convicts are middle-aged history teachers who have enough intelligence to know that fighting or fleeing would be futile acts. And even you are in a high-stress state. Tell me, was not your first instinct to escape from this room?"

I responded fearfully, "Yes... I wanted to escape... I'm sorry... will I be punished?"

"Of course not," he said with a smile. "Bzzzzzzzm, Bzzzz," I felt a tingling sensation on my neck and head.

"But if you had tried to escape or harm any of us, or even yourself, you would have felt a much stronger shock than the one you just experienced," he said.

And he continued, "Your collar has various functions. At the moment, they are only the most basic ones. Besides providing electric shocks, it records your position and vital functions. However, after we prepare you, it will have more advanced functionalities that not only protect you but also others. Additionally, it will contribute to the continuous improvement of the program."

"And in addition, you will also receive a medical and gynecological examination. That's the only purpose of the observation harness that caused you so much dread. Its sole function is to allow us to work on your body while you remain immobilized, but apart from a few pricks, no harm or pain will come to you."

I took a deep breath and suppressed an instinctive reaction. In a polite and courteous manner, the professor made it clear that any form of resistance would only worsen an already unpleasant situation.

One of the assistants, a woman somewhat older than me, placed her hand on my back and gently led me to a part of the laboratory that resembled a washroom or hygiene area.

"Hello! I'm Elizabete, but everyone calls me Bete. You are very beautiful; we don't usually have people as beautiful as you."

"Thank you..." It was a weak consolation. The cleaning area had an stainless steel structure, clearly intended for immobilizing prisoners.

From the wall, several hoses with showers and nozzles hung. The assistant put on a pair of blue nitrile gloves.

The cleaning station consisted of a stainless steel structure, comprising two sets of vertical bars, each about a meter tall. The bars were connected in pairs by a horizontal stainless steel bar. One of the horizontal bars had a U-shaped curve, presumably designed to fit around my neck or head, while the other was meant for support.

"Please bend over and place your neck here, supporting your hands on the bar." Bete then placed a small U-shaped bar over the back of my neck.

Next, she spread my legs until my knees were close to the vertical bars and then placed an L-shaped metal support on the vertical bars. This way, I couldn't close my legs again nor move my torso, but I wasn't tethered to the structure in any strict sense. The support merely played the role of maintaining a gentle restraint, allowing my body to stay comfortably in place, ensuring easy access for the cleaning process.

The technician read something on her tablet.

"This part may be a little uncomfortable but I'm going to use the thin cannula for you, and not the big one I use on sluts, but in any case an enema with 1.5 liters of oil and soap is always unpleasant" despite the empathy and delicacy of the words I felt the technique applying a greasy substance In my perianal area she lubricated and explored my anus with her fingers Then I felt something cold and metallic sliding inside me.

I felt my guts burning as the liquid flowed from the container into me, but I didn't say anything. It would be humiliating and uncomfortable for both me and Bete. She was just doing her job and had even shown her consideration.

"Your owner gave somewhat peculiar instructions. Most owners want slaves to have all body hair removed, and some even the hair, but yours said that your pubic hair should be kept. If I were your owner, I wouldn't shave this cute little thing either," she commented. I got the impression that Bete liked her job more than she should.

I noticed that the enema reservoir was empty, and the mixture of castor oil and soap was causing me cramps and an urgent need to expel not only the contents of my intestines but also my own guts. However, I couldn't bring myself to defecate in front of another person, not to mention on the floor. As I contemplated my situation and whether I should say something, she ran her hand down my back, eventually caressing my buttocks, gave them two pats, and removed the cannula from my anus, placing it in a container with bleach. Then she positioned herself next to me and felt my distended belly.

"Please stop... it hurts, I...I can't handle it... I'm going to make a mess... please." But she didn't say anything and continued massaging my belly in circular motions.

"Don't hold back, dear; it's okay; this room is equipped for that. And don't be ashamed; I've cleaned a lot of things in these years of work, vomit, urine, feces, semen, snot, I've seen it all," she chuckled softly and increased the intensity of the massages.

SPLASH BOOM, I emptied my intestines onto the floor. Brown water and pieces of feces covered the room. I felt relieved, but then I heard Bete's voice as she turned on a hose and, with a powerful stream of water, cleaned the floor. Anyone entering wouldn't know that just a few seconds before, the floor looked like a street in Bombay.

"You see, after all, it wasn't that hard. Now, only two more to go, and these will be just with plain water; they won't hurt as much." What else would these people do to me?

I felt the cannula again, and the warm water entering me. Bete continued massaging my belly; sometimes her hand went lower than I would have liked, touching my pubic hair. The scene repeated twice, and finally, the liquid that came out of my anus was clean water, but it was a very unpleasant experience.

"Do you want a glass of water to regain your strength before we move on to the rest?"

"Yes, please." I drank the glass of water eagerly.

"Thank you," I said, only then realizing that the water probably came from my gut.

I spat frantically while Bete laughed heartily. "Hahaha, sorry, but I just can't help it. The water came from this bottle," she showed me, "but it always happens; defecation makes you thirsty. Haha, and you all always drink, and the scene is always the same. Hahaha."

I laughed too, perhaps a nervous laughter or a realization that this situation was starting to mess with my mind.

Now let's wash your vulva and vagina, but this part isn't unpleasant. In fact, some of my "clients" even climax during this" she was still laughing from the previous prank.

She chose a hose and placed a 20cm long tube with a sphere of about 1.5cm at the tip. It was hollow on the inside, and blue liquid gushed from openings on its surface. Bete placed her left hand on my labia and, with her fingers, opened my vagina. With her right hand, she positioned the cannula at the entrance to my vagina, and I felt the sphere moving inside me. I felt the liquid gushing out, and the sphere entered my vagina until it touched the cervix of my uterus. The intensity of the flow increased, and the liquid ran down my thighs.

Bete removed the gloves and applied gel to her hands. She spread the gel on my vulva and began massaging my major and minor labia. It was true what she had said--some women could have an orgasm with the combination of the liquid flowing from the vagina and the vulva massage. However, I just found it not unpleasant, and it was much better than the triple enema from before.

Bete, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying herself. After removing the cannula from my vagina, she replaced it with her fingers. While they were an improvement, they didn't yield the result she anticipated. Despite this, my labia were dilated, though my clitoris not as much. Perhaps if I were more sexually inclined or into women, it might have made a difference. However, I didn't voice any objections or observations. I simply assumed that this would be my life, or at least a significant part of it for the next seven years, being used to fulfill the sexual desires of others.

She stopped playing with my lady bits and grabbed a hose with a shower, starting to give me a cold water shower. It was clearly a small revenge for my lack of reaction to her advances. My breathing became faster.

She grabbed a sponge and applied gel all over my body, washing me efficiently. As expected, my breasts were washed several times. Finally, she applied shampoo to my head and turned on the shower again, this time with warm water.

After rinsing me, she freed me and handed me a microfiber towel. "Dry yourself and follow me back to the lab." The towel was small, but it absorbed all the water from my body and hair. When I dried my neck, I felt the collar. During this "cleaning session", I had forgotten about it, even though the purpose of my stay here was related to its programming.

"The slave is clean and ready to be used and programmed, Professor. Is there any other task you need from me, or can I go home?"

"Thank you, Bete. You can go home. Give my regards to your husband. What do you think of the slave?"

"I found her to be very sexually repressed but obedient and submissive. In my opinion, she will be an obedient but unhappy slave. I recommend psychological support to help her understand and cope with the conflicts between her physical reactions and emotions, along with an additional calibration of the collar, would be beneficial for the slave."

I understood that what I initially interpreted as a form of abuse was, in fact, a test, and that these people are constantly evaluating me. I shouldn't be surprised; after all, I was a teacher, and my life involved assessing students not only in exams but also in their daily lives.

The observation table, as I mentioned earlier, was like a common examination table, similar to the others. What made me uneasy was the structure above it, resembling an exoskeleton, where I would be secured by various Velcro straps. This exoskeleton wasn't directly connected to the table but rather to a kind of fork, similar to that of a bicycle, allowing it to rotate completely around the table.

Cecilia looked at me, assessing my appearance and size. She handed me an elastic band and instructed me to tie up my hair, which I did. She then positioned the frame vertically.

"Place your body on the frame, feet on the bars, and please stay still," Cecilia was more stern than Bete, a shorter and stockier woman who appeared to be around 60 years old.

Then she began tightening the Velcro straps, first on my feet, then on the ankles, knees, and thighs. After that, the waist and chest, and under the arms.Each of my fingers received two small strips, as did my wrists, arms, elbows, and forearms.

I was getting anxious, almost entering a panic. On one hand, my rational mind knew that escape was impossible, and I had Professor Nuno's assurances that I wouldn't be harmed. On the other hand, my primal brain was urging me to flee and get out of there. Of course, that was now impossible. I was like a fly caught in a spider's web--quite literally, trapped on a articulated frame by more than twenty straps.

The last two straps were placed around my neck and head. I wanted to scream, not knowing what or why, but when Cecilia asked, "I hope they're not too tight?" what came out of my mouth was, "It's okay, thank you."

She lifted my body and placed it on the examination table. The fact that I was strapped to the frame made it really easy for them to move me around.

Then she lifted my legs and spread them wide. It felt like I was on a gynecological exam table, just more exposed. Unable to move my head, my view of what was happening around me was limited; the ceiling was the only part of the room I could see well.

"To keep you from getting too anxious, I'll explain what we're going to do at each step. First, I'll perform a basic gynecological exam and insert an IUD. Your owner requested that this be the chosen method of contraception. It's unusual since it doesn't stop menstruation, and in the case of a beautiful woman like you, most men usually ask for the use of NORPLANT. However, since he is a pharmacist, he must know what's best."

I felt something cold and viscous running down my labia, and then fingers spreading them apart, opening my vagina.

"Speculum number 4, please." I felt a cold object entering my vagina and then dilating it. "Swab."

I felt fingers separating my labia and then pressing on my lower abdomen. "Any pain or discomfort?"

Only the discomfort of this situation. "No, I just feel the touch," I replied."

"I will now proceed to palpate your breasts," said the professor. I felt his hands palpating the sides and then the entirety of my breasts. He compressed them externally and then in horizontal and vertical motions. I looked at his face; he was a professional. He made no comments, and I didn't see any thoughts in his gaze. If Professor Nuno is not homosexual, he is a very rare professional.

I felt the speculum being removed and then I felt the viscous liquid again. "This part may be uncomfortable, but it's necessary. I need to feel if your uterus and ovaries are healthy.' Fingers... no, a hand was entering my vagina and touching my uterus and ovaries. It was more than uncomfortable, it was painful, but I gritted my teeth and said nothing. "It seems that everything is fine with you, Sofia. I'm now going to insert the IUD. This part will be somewhat painful, as I can only use a local anesthetic."

His hands inserted something to the base of my uterus, probing until reaching the entrance. Then, pressure followed by an intense sharp pain. I couldn't control the pain.

"HAAAAAII..." My breathing was rapid; my muscles pressed against the restraints, but it was futile. Then, just as it had come, the pain vanished.

"Pending the laboratory results, for now, I can tell you that your overall sexual health is excellent. Your breasts show no lumps or masses; they are firm and full. Nipples and areolas are symmetrical and respond well to stimuli. Ovaries and uterus are completely healthy, and your vagina has no lesions, maintaining good tone. We can now move on to the most critical phase of collar programming."

"Cecília, please prepare Sofia for the exam. Apply the sensors to her. I'm going to stop by the cafeteria. Do you want me to bring you anything?"

"Ah, thank you. I'll have a ham and cheese sandwich. Are you going to do the full test or just the security one?"

"The full one, please. I want to ensure that Sofia is programmed properly."

What were they about to do to me? It was strange. Observing the natural and unperturbed way they behaved in front of a naked, completely bound, and defenseless woman was disturbingly cold and professional.

I felt tickling on my feet, a very uncomfortable sensation when my body was immobilized. Next came the impression of cold, accompanied by the characteristic smell of ether. She was applying something to my feet, repeating the operation at least seven or eight times on each of them. Then, she moved to the inside of my thighs.