Lara Swift is Colonized Ch. 02

Chapter 2: Regulatory Capture

It only took the threat of more tattoos to get Lara to offer her body willingly to the nurses when they came back to finish their work on her first set.

In the following sessions, they didn't even bother restraining her. Instead, they just ordered her to remain still. For Lara, it was a subtle blow to her independence, like she was starting to acquiesce to their demands. She knew that acquiescence was a bad path to go down, and would only lead to more bold requests, but she didn't have a lot of options here.

They finished her unwanted tattoos, complete with their names in Hindi and Mandarin text, and left her alone. She used her healing to track the amount of time she had been there, along with things such as hair growth and feedings. Those were her best markers since the lighting in her cell was always the same. The only thing that broke up the monotony of her day-to-day life was her feeding and toileting.

It made Lara groan to think about the toileting.

To her dismay, Nurse Cerys expected her to use the bedpan each time she needed to relieve herself. Solid and liquid waste both, and she wasn't even allowed to wipe herself afterwards! Even after they had released her from the straitjacket, Nurse Cerys insisted on wiping Lara clean. As much as she wanted to fight back, she remembered the incident with the tattoos, and it squelched any urge to assert herself. She had no doubts that they did the tattoos to show her the "short sharp shock."

Lara's tattoos were fully healed when she learned what Nurse Cerys meant by "amative ink."

She discovered it accidentally one day when she was stroking the marking on her left ring finger. As she brushed it, she felt a pleasant shiver run down her spine, and it made her give a little inhalation of pleasure. At first she couldn't believe it, but further experimentation confirmed her worst suspicions: each one of those artful tattoos on her body were some kind of erogenous zone now!

Lara thought it was best if she didn't play with them, but this resolve didn't last long. The first problem was that no matter how she lied on her bed, one or more of her tattoos would brush against the feathery pink fabric or against another part of her body. They never allowed her to sleep for very long; four hours at most she guessed, and each time the fabric touched some of her ink it would give her some much-needed stimulation.

She was strong-willed to begin with, but the boredom eventually got the best of her, and she found herself stroking the ink-blot feather that rested on her breast with curiosity. Mostly she did this to pass the time, but it also provoked within her a girlish thrill, and reminded her of having a crush on someone. The stocking-shaped one on her upper thigh created a different sensation; more urgent and sexual. She tried not to play with that one very much; the more she touched it, the more she wanted to masturbate to pass the time. The one on her back was unique in that it gave her a sense of security and well-being. Altogether it was confusing, and there was literally no one for her to ask about any of these things. Nurse Cerys would smile at her, but kept the conversation to a minimum - she was lucky if she got to say how she was doing that day.

Lara was reminded of a rat in a cage, that would choose to press a button whose sole purpose was to administer an electric shock just to have something to do. She was spending more and more of her days stroking her tattoos, and it definitely shaped her daydreams more than she cared to admit.

Nurse Cerys would give Lara a sort of sponge bath once every few days, rubbing her entire body with hot, moist towels and using a sort of dry shampoo on her hair. It didn't escape Lara's notice that having another person touch her tattoos provoked a much stronger reaction - she nearly gasped each time the blonde would rub a confident hand across her delicate flesh. Like everything else, Lara was not permitted to do this herself; she merely offered different parts of her body to the young nurse, who had a very firm and comforting touch. The nurse would finish by rubbing some kind of cream on Lara's tattoos that seemed to speed the healing process immensely, frustrating her efforts to track time that way.

After what she guessed to be the second week, it was time for her intake interview.

Nurse Cerys came into the room, and eased Lara into another straitjacket, complete with her usual white micro panties and sleek crotch strap. Lara became truly excited as she realized she was about to leave her cell for the first time! She could feel her heart beat in her temples as she stepped one bare foot over the threshold of her prison into a narrow hallway.

The only thing new here was the floor; it was tile rather than whatever padded material that made up her home for these past several weeks. Lara was desperate for new sensations, but the tile was warmed to be room temperature, so the only difference was the hardness of it. Even such a minor thing was cause for joy, though. For the first time in her life, Lara was mindful of every sensation of her feet touching a hard floor.

The walls were uniformly padded, and the long hallway was so undifferentiated that it gave her no idea of how many other cells there were like hers. That same pink light filled this place too, and Lara made sure to count her steps to at least have some idea of the size of this place.

She was hoping to see more of the facility to being making a map in her mind, but she was disappointed. As soon as she and Nurse Cerys got to the end of the hallway, a door opened and lead to some kind of psychologist's office. All of the details of this place were a breath of fresh air for the girl; an actual wooden desk! Books on shelves! A color scheme of emerald and oak! Unfortunately, the large windows located behind the desk were frosted glass so she could not see outside, but she was ecstatic to have all these new sights after so long in that horrid, bland room.

Her excitement eclipsed her anger at these people for all that they had done to her - she was a far cry from making demands to talk to her solicitor now. In the back of her mind, she knew this was probably Stockholm Syndrome kicking in, but she would do almost anything to get out of that spirit-breaking cell. In so many ways, she had learned her best bet was to be compliant, at least in the short-term.

She took a seat on the little wooden stool and remained still as Nurse Cerys attached the leather cuffs to her ankles again, latching them on to a rather sturdy-looking metal eye that was fastened into the ground. There was no way she was repeating her last trick, that was for sure.

After a little bit, a short Asian woman came into the room. She was carrying a paper coffee cup, and the rich aroma of the stuff filled the room and made Lara's mouth water - coffee was one of her favorite things. The woman took a seat behind her desk, and addressed Lara.

"This is only an intake interview," the woman began in a cordial, almost dismissive tone, "so we will keep it very short, then you can return to holding."

Already, Lara felt her spirits fall. She was so desperate to talk to someone! Anyone, about anything! The woman seemed to pick up on this.

"Well, or we could make it a full session! It just depends on your level of disclosure. I understand that you have been violent and short-tempered in the past. Are you willing to cooperate today?"

Lara nodded her head, causing the doctor to smile. She sipped her drink, and Lara was green with envy as she watched the woman enjoy the delicious beverage.

"Very good! Let's do this get-to-know-you exercise. Why don't you pretend that you are a character in a television program that I've never seen before. And you describe yourself to me; what your goals are, your likes and dislikes, a brief history.

"Oh, and nurse, loosen her ankle bindings and get her a real chair! She seems like she is better-behaved today."

"Yes, Doctor."

Lara was smart enough to see this supposed act of kindness for what it really was. These people had been tormenting her for weeks, she wasn't about to be taken in by a softer chair! But as her bare thighs touched the seat that Nurse Cerys had offered her, she noticed that it had the same texture as her solitary cell; frilly and slightly too yielding. Her fear of being sent back to that room grew immensely, and Lara was a little more forthcoming.

"I am Lara Abington," she began,

"I am the sole heir to the Abington fortune. My father..."

She couldn't bring herself to mention him. Hoping the doctor wouldn't prod her, she changed the subject.

"I am an accomplished athlete; I like rock climbing, horseback riding, and tennis. I was lonely growing up. Most of my classmates had... a different way of seeing the world. I am constantly disappointed by their contempt for people who have less money. It's uncomfortable for me to have someone do something for me, whereas my friends expect someone else to do their laundry, wash their cars, prepare their food, everything."

The doctor made a note of this. Lara knew this was a police tactic: let someone stew for a while, and they would be more willing to talk about themselves even if it resulted in self-incrimination.

"Do you have any living family?" the doctor asked.

Lara didn't like that leading question, and she didn't have much time to think of a response. Did she dare bring her "Uncle" Errol into this?

"Why do you ask?" Lara countered.

The doctor sighed, and put her pen down.

"Listen, if you are going to be evasive, we can try again a few days from now. You are facing very serious charges; the artifact you attempted to steal from Mrs. Liao is valued at several million dollars. Nurse, please help Lara back to-"

"No!" Lara shouted, shaking her head pathetically.

"I'm sorry... I have an Uncle Errol. Well, he says he is my uncle, but I don't think so. I think he's just trying to take some of my inheritance."

"Tell me more about him," the doctor prompted.

"He's awful. He is piggish and rude, and he has abhorrent ideas about the way women should behave. I consider myself a tolerant person, but I could not stand him. He thinks I should just keep my mouth shut, and do whatever he says. He even said that once he was my guardian, he would put me in my my place, whatever that means. Well, my place is nowhere near him!"

"What do you mean when you say, 'once he is your guardian'?" The doctor asked.

Lara explained the legal battle for her inheritance.

"You might not like what I am about to say," the Asian woman began,

"But Mrs. Liao's legal team has frozen your assets. You crossed country lines to attempt grand theft, then assaulted the mental staff trying to help you. The judge reasonably believes that you are a flight risk. That's why your location is not being disclosed - you could hire goons to just spring you from any prison. Also, the prosecutor is arguing that you have used your family fortune to fund similar crimes around the globe. As such, you will probably remain in this institution until the trial begins, and Mrs. Liao is deliberately seeking continuations in order to get you to accept a plea bargain."

Lara's heart dropped at this next part.

"The trial is not even set to begin for another sixteen months. It could easily be much longer, though."

The thought drove all others from her mind. She gazed at the doctor with her saucer eyes, unable to comprehend how unfair and absurd this all was. Even assuming it was true, it sounded like the most corrupt legal proceedings she had ever heard of! It had to be lies, all of it! Her assets were frozen? She was an international criminal? Sixteen months in this place!?!

"I- I don't understand," Lara said. "There must be something... what about my solicitor, Mr. Edwin Montgomery?"

The doctor shook her head, and explained that he was under investigation for his participation in her scheme. And even if he were somehow cleared of that, he had several rumors about sexual misconduct circling him that would demand his full attention for quite some time. Lara felt the earth falling away behind her, leaving behind only a very narrow and unpleasant path forward.

"What does the plea bargain look like?" Lara asked.

"You would not like it," the woman responded, "Mrs. Liao is a serious Anglophile, and she has always dreamed of holding a title. But, as you know, they are hereditary: more valuable than any amount of money, and they can only be transferred in the rarest of circumstances. Especially yours, which goes back quite a ways."

The doctor paused, to allow the horrible implication to sink in. It worked - Lara felt like she might faint.

"Mrs. Liao is willing to forgive your crime. But in return, she wants your noble title. You would no longer be the Lady of Abington - that honor would belong to her family henceforth. It's a little more complicated than that, because to give up your title you would technically have to become a stateless person, but that's the basic gist of it."

Lara stared at the woman, shaking her head weakly. The doctor wasn't finish twisting the knife, though, and added:

"Mrs. Liao has also offered to sponsor you for a work visa, in the event you accept her plea bargain. You would work as her family's domestic attendant, and in return they would help you navigate immigration. It might entail a change of names, among other things."

"I refuse. The offer is an insult," Lara said, resolutely.

It truly was, and there was no way the doctor didn't realize this no matter how sweetly she had presented it to Lara. For Lara to surrender her title would be to betray her heritage - to give away some part of her deepest self that she could literally never get back. There had been other men and women who gave up their titles, and the media always had a field day with it. People loved to dog-pile on those unfortunates and their lives were, without exception, worse for the exchange. The fact that this awful Mrs. Liao actually expected Lara to work as some kind of menial for her afterwards as part of the the 'bargain' made it all the more egregious.

"Well then, you need to reach out to this Uncle Errol. You've had your problems with him, sure, but he seems to be the only one who can help you right now."

Even though she knew it was better than Mrs. Liao's sadistic offer, Lara couldn't bear the idea. Putting aside how much it would wound her pride and her sense of independence, it would be legally ruinous!

She imagined Uncle Errol's delight as he listened to her beg for his help. She pictured his smug face as he processed the news, smoking a cigar as his awful team of lawyers told him exactly how much this would help his legal case against her. How much more leverage would he have over her if Lara had depended on him to get her out of a mental institution?! It was practically a thrice-notarized confession that she needed him as her guardian! Couldn't she reach out to her friend Fiona Ashford, or someone less connected to all this?

Apparently not. Only a family member or legal advisor had visitation rights here, wherever this place was. This was dreadful - they were roadblocking every one of her plans, lording it over her that their corrupt authority was unquestionable.

"I can't," Lara whispered, her beautiful face contorted into a mask of despair.

"I understand," the doctor responded, "Well, my only other option is to return you to your cell. My schedule is very busy, so I won't have time for another meeting until next month. It is a shame - with your uncle's help, we could at least get you out of there and into other parts of the facility."

That softened her up. Lara saw the trick being played on her, but was helpless to resist it, and that just made it worse. It was madness or surrender, and Nurse Cerys was already approaching to cart her away.

"Wait," Lara said.

"I will contact Errol."

The doctor assured her she was making the right decision, and brought over an old-fashioned corded telephone and held it up to Lara's ear. Lara dictated the man's cell phone number; which she had memorized because of how often he would call and text her about arranging a visit to her estate.

Her mouth went dry as she heard the ring tone. Was it worse if he answered, or didn't answer?

"Hello?" came a gruff voice - maybe it was early where was. He sounded hungover. She struggled to find the words.

"Hello, Uncle Errol?" Lara said. Her voice sounded meek and fragile.

"Lara? What do you want? It's pretty damn early for this."

Lara tried to say something, but she kept stumbling over the words.

"Come on, spit it out," Errol said, taking an abusive tone. Normally, this is where Lara would snap back at him, and shut him down. But now...

"I need your help."

There was a pause, and the sound of a match being struck.

"Help with what? And why would I WANT to help? You've been a right bitch to me for the past few months."

Lara exhaled sharply - she hated being called a bitch and she would never permit someone to take that tone with her before. But everything rested on this one call, and she knew it would be necessary to flatter his ego.

"I'm sorry," Lara said, and dove right into an explanation of what had happened.

"Well, that's a lot to take in," Errol said at the end of her speech. She could tell from his voice that he was smiling.

"I'm honestly a little shocked. Did you think you were playing a video game or something? You can't go sneaking around like some cat burglar - you're lucky it wasn't worse. Think about it, Lara, you could have been shot."

"I know," Lara muttered.

She could tell that he was emboldened by this new, submissive side of her - taking the exact tone he had always wanted to use on her except for the fact that she wouldn't stand for it.

"I've never been more convinced that you need supervision. Your mother and father gave you far too much leeway, and we see where that landed you. In a mental asylum!"

He laughed at his own joke while she just fumed at his complete lack of reverence for her late parents. This was always the drive of his chauvinistic argument - that her wild spirit needed to be brought to heel.

"Anyway, how am I supposed to help you? You sued me for using the family's resources, and now the resources are off-limits anyway!"

"There's a safe," Lara began.

She could practically hear his ears prick up at this revelation. Even though she realized the danger of giving him this information, it was her only option.

"It's hidden in my room. Behind the painting of the girl en pointe. The combination is... 34-18-42. There should be enough cash there to tide you over, and pay for any expenses you have."

Lara shuddered to think what else was in that safe: her birth certificate, several years of tax filings, deeds to much of her property, and many bank account numbers. There were also things of more sentimental value: jewelry and antique photos. Only now did she see the foolishness of keeping it all in one place. She was taking a calculated risk, though, and even with all these documents Uncle Errol didn't have the thing he needed the most.

She kept the original copy of her father's last will and testament somewhere else.

As long as he didn't have access to the will, she stood a fine chance of winning out in the end. This was a necessary sacrifice, then, or strategic surrender. She would allow him squander a few thousand pounds on booze and gambling, and kick him out when she was in control of her own affairs again.

"I'm not sure," Errol said, "you still seem like you have that pride about you. Even calling from an insane asylum, you sound like you're the lady of the manner. You haven't even said 'please' - you know I have a busy life, too?"