Prisoner 4053 Ch. 06

The next days went by much the same: long hours caged alone, then, after Nate had gotten home, an hour or two of play and sex. He was the only person she saw, other than the cleaners, until the sixth day, when the door opened far earlier than it ought to have.

Four-oh-five-three had no clock, but she had a sense of how long the day was. Once she had fallen asleep and woken up disoriented in time, convinced it was far later than it was, but now her stomach and her bladder told her how much time had passed, even if her circadian rhythm did not.

The cleaners had already come and gone, and at first 4053 thought that Nate had come back early. She had spent a full weekend with him, which was exhausting in a way that made her want to thrust her head in a bucket of ice water when he was finished with her, she was so tapped out. It was the mental exertion more than the physical -- the ever-present hyperawareness she had to have around him, the trauma she knew was building every time he turned his attention on her. She had thought she could just go along, but being used in the manner she was required much more of her than bored inattention, and not only because he demanded her presence in the moment. Her body and the lower parts of her brain thought they were keeping her alive.

She didn't know whether or not to be relieved when strangers came in the room. She had fought him this morning, and he had chained her sitting up, with her wrists clipped to a ring above her head. He had acted powerless to spare her, as though the discipline he imposed was not his whim but a natural law. This was what happened when she struggled, he said. He had sounded so reasonable that she had nearly agreed, to herself, that she ought to know by now not to stumble away when he reached down to put his fingers inside her. She was immobile, now, at the mercy of these new people, whoever they were, wearing an anal plug that was so big it hurt, and otherwise nude. Her nipples were hard and sensitive in the air conditioning, and she had tried to kick the blanket over her chest, but hadn't had any success.

It was a woman and two men. The men wore the same clothing that Nate did at work; the woman wore a lab coat. She began to speak at once, and her tone was warm. "Hi. I'm Dr. Rhodes. I'll be visiting once a week. Did your leaser tell you I was coming by this afternoon?"

Four-oh-five-three, embarrassed to be caught undressed, afraid of what this woman was going to do to her, gave the barest shake of her head.

"Okay, well, what we're going to do is look you over for injuries and take some blood samples. We're also going to get a weight. Let's get you out of there," she said. She sounded for all the world like any doctor 4053 would have seen on the outside, in her former life.

The men opened the cage, and one came in to unclip her wrists from where they were attached to the wall. He bent her forward at the waist and clipped them behind her back, and then he steered her past the cage door, to where the other man stood waiting. They led her to the middle of the room, and unclipped her wrists again, to attach them to a chain that they pulled down from the ceiling. One stepped back to give the doctor room.

It was not dark in the room, but she had a small flashlight she clicked on, and she used it to inspect 4053's body. "Has he left you all day with your hands like that before?"

Four-oh-five-three shook her head.

"Does anything hurt, like maybe the skin might have been broken? Does anything feel wrong inside? I see some bruises," she said, this last part to either the men or herself. She paused. "Anything painful?"

Four-oh-five-three shook her head again.

They stood her on a scale and recorded her weight, and took a urine sample, and then the men helped her onto a padded table that Nate had not yet used and strapped her down. Cowed and frightened, 4053 cooperated with them. The doctor examined her nose and throat, her eyes and ears, listened to her heart and lungs, and she let her hand linger on 4053's body in a way that managed to not be sexual or clinical at all, but comforting. It brought 4053 closer to tears than she had been in days.

"This is the part you probably want a break from," she said, and the men slid 4053 down the table so her back end hung off the edge. She laid quietly while they strapped her legs into a pair of stirrups. The doctor continued to talk to her. "I'd spare you if I could, but I have to check that you're not injured inside. I'm going to remove this plug," she said, and (to 4053's abject horror) after some careful tugging the anal plug, mercifully, was gone, "and put a speculum in, okay?" She slid it inside 4053 and opened it, and told her what she was doing as she did it: a visual examination, a swab to check for infection. Her rectum received a similar examination. "I think we can leave the plug out," the doctor said. "Sit her up for me, Carlos."

Four-oh-five-three sat, unrestrained now, on the edge of the table. The doctor wrapped one of the blankets from her cage around 4053's shoulders, and pulled her hair free of it. It was a gesture that seemed to say, you poor thing. I'm so sorry. The room blurred, and a moment later the tears began to fall.

"I know, honey," the doctor said, and gave her a little one-armed squeeze. "You're going to get through this. A lot of awful things are happening right now, but it's going to get easier, and then one day it's going to be over." She stood there a moment longer, with her arm around 4053's shoulders, and then withdrew it. "We need to get you back inside, all right? Can you walk in by yourself, or do you want some help?"

Four-oh-five-three shook her head. She slid off the table, clutching the blanket tightly around her, and walked with the doctor back to the cage. Hot tears slid down her cheeks, and she wiped them away with her fingers, rough and ashamed.

Later, alone, she wondered if the doctor's kindness had been a good thing. It had left her chest raw and achy. When Nate came home and took her out, it only made his treatment seem that much filthier. She had preferred it when she had less perspective.

He didn't remark on finding her in a different position than the one in which he had left her; he seemed to have expected it. "Come on," he said, "off with that," and he pulled the blanket from her shoulders and led her with her hands behind her back to the shower. He had washed her that morning, and now, as he said, "Down on your knees," it was clear that he was after something else.

The shower had few points to clip her restraints to in the bottom, but he made do with a spreader bar between her knees, and then he bent her forward over the floor until her head lay against it. "I don't want to see your shoulders rise from the floor," he said, and he waved his crop in her field of vision. Her legs were spread so wide, she was sure it would be easy work for him to crop her vulva dead center; he had done that the other night, and she knew how painful it was. While she listened, unable to see, he put on gloves, and then his finger pressed, firm and cold, against her anal sphincter.

Her time with the plugs had taught her that pushing against an object made it slide in more easily, and she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction -- but he didn't ask for it. Without her cooperation, he pushed in and circled his finger inside her. His voice went gentle in the way it often did. "There we go. Just relax." There was the sound of more lubricant from a bottle, and another finger joined the first, thick and inescapable. They massaged her inside, pushing in and out, and with his other hand he toyed with her clitoris. She couldn't help it; she moved her hips, whose position she was suddenly unsure of. Was she going to fall? Was she upright? She didn't dare move her head to check.

The fingers in her anus went deeper and deeper, in and out, until she felt his knuckles against her perineum. He withdrew them all and pushed them in again, this time joined by a third finger, and 4053's breath caught in her throat.

"No, no -- relax," he said, and held his hand still until she did. He continued to finger-fuck her. It was not a terrible feeling, but it was an uneasy one, like sliding into a too-hot bath or a too-cold pool; less care, too fast, and it would hurt. "You're doing well," he said, and he kept going. Four-oh-five-three, her cheek pressed uncomfortably to the shower floor, thought about her body's overwhelming need to feel a penis inside it, and how much she, herself, would rather just be in her cage, ignored.

Nate's fingers went away, leaving her feeling empty, but moments later he pushed something else in: another plug, but this one with less girth than the one she had worn this morning. It went deeper than she was used to, and there was a different feeling, a warm one, deep in her bowels --

She strained to see. Nate, now sitting up on his knees, was doing something with plastic, she could hear it, and when she saw his arm tense, as though he was squeezing it, she realized what she was feeling inside her.

He was giving her an enema.

Just when she thought she couldn't be further violated, something new happened to prove her wrong. This was not something she had ever experienced before. There was a lot she had never experienced before, and in her short week and a half of slavery, she was already twice as sexually experienced as she had been before. Twice? She thought about it while he filled her bowels, so she wouldn't have to think about her bowels being filled. How would one measure such a thing? She tried to come up with a metric.

The filling was slow but relentless. Something made a growling sound deep in her intestines, and her gut was seized with the sort of urgent feeling that one gets pre-diarrhea. Oh god, she thought, having sudden visions of being unable to control how this... well, to put it delicately, how it ended. How angry would he be with her? Please don't make me poop in front of him, she thought, and her gut cramped then, and she broke out in a cold sweat.

He stopped filling her, then. The bag was crinkled and flat. She held her breath through a wave of cramps.

"You're okay," Nate said. His fingers brushed her vulva, and found her clitoris. He pinched and toyed with it, while she tried to stay still. Right now, it was doing nothing for her; it was an annoyance, not a distraction from the uncomfortable roiling in her bowels but an extra sensation, unwanted by even her body as it contended with its discomfort. "In fact, if you wind up at the dairy, this is how you defecate. They'll clean you out a couple times a day. What do you think of that?"

Four-oh-five-three did not think very much of it. God. Was that going to be her fate? She would be lucky to escape it. Perhaps she would be one of those women who didn't lactate, despite the hormones. She felt Nate reach beneath her and find a nipple. He tugged on it. She was a puddle of sweat, dripping now, and she wished he would stop touching her.

"You might like it," he continued. "Hooked up to a machine, every day the same, not at the whim of a private citizen. Once in awhile maybe visitors pay for a fuck while you're in the machine, and sometimes the workers take you out to play with, but for the most part, you know what's going to happen when. You don't have to think about how you're going to get out of something, because there is no getting out of it. The dairy does what's good for its shareholders."

Four-oh-five-three squeezed her eyes shut and rode out another wave of cramps.

"My last lease went to the dairy. Didn't even go to auction. The need was that high. I took her back to the facility and after a medical check, she was on the next truck. I think it took a week, with the new drugs. It was pretty sexy, seeing her in there. Helpless with all those chains and tubes." He gave her clitoris a hard little rub, and then withdrew. "Okay, get up."

Slowly, shaking, 4053 pushed herself up into a kneel. Nate unhooked the spreader bar. "Go sit on the toilet," he said.

He left her alone while she found relief on the toilet, humiliated and close to tears. She shivered as her sweat evaporated in the cool air of the bathroom.

He made her do it twice more, until he was satisfied with what came out of her. Four-oh-five-three was almost relieved when he took her to the horse and chained her to it, face down, with her legs spread wide and her head strapped down to the cushion. He used a dildo to get her started, and she tried to relax into it, aware from her previous encounters with the anal plug that it would hurt less if she wasn't so tense. He talked to her, gentler this time, encouraging as he brought her to tingling arousal with two bare fingers on her clitoris and two gloved ones circling the sensitive flesh inside her sphincter. "That's it," he said. "This doesn't need to hurt."

She heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper and lay still, calm and resigned, as he prepared himself. The tip of his penis was shockingly cold when he touched it to her, and she realized that he must have put a dollop of lubricant on the end. He pushed in slowly with a groan, and when he had the tip in, he took her hips in his hands and drove himself deeper, gently but inexorably.

It didn't hurt until it did.

She felt it deep inside, and her breath hitched. Nate stopped pushing into her. He stood there behind her, filling her, and stroked her hips and her rear. "Jesus," he said. "That feels amazing."

Four-oh-five-three thought it felt less than amazing, but the violation had driven her to a state of arousal that she didn't know what to do with. She tried to relax. After a moment, he pushed again, and he was suddenly in a deep, internal space that had never been touched before, that she had never expected to be touched --

He withdrew, and that sensation was almost as astounding. A penis was difficult to feel deep inside one's vagina, but here, she was aware of the length of him from her sphincter to her -- well, wherever he ended. Her large intestine? She didn't know. It hurt and it didn't, and she wished he would slow down and let her breathe, but once he got moving, he seemed unstoppable. And he made noises. They were unlike anything she had heard from him before: deep, guttural noises, almost animalistic. As though he might tear her throat out when he finished.

He was clearly getting more out of this than he had with vaginal sex, and it was more intense for 4053 as well. She couldn't not focus on it. It wasn't painful, but it wasn't comfortable, and she was so tense she discovered that she was holding her breath only when she felt on the edge of passing out. There was nothing she could do about it. She felt so fragile, and he was relentless. If something tore, would he notice? Would he believe her if she started to struggle? She couldn't even scream.

He finished with a few thrusts so violent that they scared her. Then his weight was on top of her as he spent himself, his face on her back just breathing at first, and then kissing her vertebrae as he recovered and withdrew. The feeling of his penis sliding out of her was both horrible and exquisite, and the sensation stayed with her long after he was gone.