Strange Queens Ch. 03

'Shortly, my love. Let me get these sent out.'

Stepping out the door, the powerfully built Gloria placed her trays of warm drink on the tables and black clad guards came to collect them, her overbearing demeanour and thick, bulked arms clearly visible. Each was delivered to a dorm, one cup per girl, tray by tray. When the guards returned for the last trays, they could already hear the screaming from the other side of the swinging door. They didn't need to look, both because they knew what was happening and because it was keeping their mistress busy. Good opportunity to grab breakfast.

Jordan took her mug and sipped lightly. Rachel didn't bother with hers. In fact she hadn't moved from her laying position since last night when she had mentioned her plans of escape. Jordan still sat, silent, gently sipping her mug, watching the big girl. She couldn't help but admire the strong woman's firm, well-built legs and arms, and her powerful, but not obvious six pack. She was a woman of strength, and her short hair made her look even more like it.

Jordan wasn't exactly sitting straight on her bed, since, when you lie down on the metal frame, your ankle harness magnetises to the surface. Hence she was bent one leg on, one leg hanging off the metal platform, splayed wide, hair-strewn groin only blocked from total view by the padded belt. Rather dreary, she flopped back, imagining how she'd look if her belt wasn't there, and how hot it would be if her guards could see her, naked, wide for them. Absently, her fingers swirled about on the metal over her pussy, the digits swirling about her clit in her mind. Abandoned, her mug slipped from loose fingers and the remainder of its contents spilled across the hard ground, her wonders forgotten as her mind melted and her pussy started to pulse and thrum in time with her strokes.

Rachel wasn't so absent from the real world. In fact, she was very, very awake, and very calm. If one was to listen and watch closely, they might see the girl's fingers, hidden beside her hips, hidden from the door and from Jordan, tapping lightly.

"Forty six, forty seven, forty eight, forty nine..."

The countdown was only part of the show, but she had it planned out. As she tapped past seventy five, she felt her ankle loosen as the magnetic bond disappeared, and swung her legs over the bed in moments. She stood with one motion and quickly stepped beside the door, her hand still tapping gentle rhythm on her stomach. With one leg, she raised her foot and wiggled it against the bed frame, tensing her muscles. Then she lifted the other, her feet pressed against the edge of the metal that was her pillow. In a wall-sit now, her thighs bulging, her tap counted ninety six. Slipping her open hand down her leg until her chains went taut, she tensed and relaxed, ready.

"One hundred and one, one hundred and two..."

Curling her fist into a ball, she prepared to swing it up, reading her legs to push herself off the bed and raise her hip and thigh high enough to give her fist just enough chain to slam it up and into the face of anyone who would enter the room, just as the key clicked about in the lock and the bolt clicked home and the door swung open-

-And a black clad guard peered in, a second behind him, seeing the delirious Jordan slumped against the wall, one hand clasping her metal bra, the other making tight movements, pressing back and forth across the closed cap on her chastity belt, gentle sighs coming from her open mouth, hey eyes closed in dreams. The guard's Black mask swung to the right to see Rachel perched in her wall sit, eyes closed, fists balled by her sides.

Reaching in, the guard gripped Rachel's arm and hauled her from her position. Pulled off balance she had no time to react before she was out the door and it swung shut behind her, locked tight by the second guard, leaving Jordan alone in her daze.

Dragged out stumbling, Rachel was through the stark cell hall and in the cafeteria by the time she had caught balance. Before she could look around, the guard's gloved hand gripped her neck and bent her down, threatening her with the choice of toppling her or getting to her knees. She picked the latter automatically and found herself head down beside another set of female legs. With the firm arm now aided by the guard's weight, she wouldn't be looking up, and so remained hunched over, legs bent under her, red E6 tattoo facing up into the open. Before her, dress shoes stepped closer, their owner peering over her.

The shoes were joined by knees as the surveyor eyed her over. With a sudden lurch the hand pulled back and its counterpart found her shoulder, now bending her back awkwardly, off balance. The hand remained on her neck, holding her from dropping to her back, the hand on her shoulder stopping her from lifting herself upright. Though she could now see, it didn't help her much, and not because of the odd angle. Her captors, both the guards and the suited man, wore full black facemasks. Indeed, their only distinguishing feature between them was that the man before her wore a suit rather than the guard's close blacks. Another girl, in black gloves and tights but with a shining chastity belt like Rachel's own, also had a head clad fully in black, hands on hips, standing further away from the group. Rachel couldn't tell properly, but she could have sworn the girl was panting slightly.

Thrown back forwards to her original bow of shame, her view of the world reset to her own knees and a small selection of the cafeteria floor, the inspector moved behind her, eyes drinking in details, before she felt the scrutiny leave her as he stepped on to the second girl. The same process was then repeated for her. The gloved grip on Rachel's neck never let up for a moment. After he had finished, he stepped back and pointed, though Rachel couldn't see where he indicated.

'That one.'

Both girls were hauled to their feet, and as she was yanked away, Rachel just caught the man's profile as he turned to face the woman and pulled his mask off. But it was gone in an instant as she was man-handled back to the hallway. As she went, she could hear the other girl make a sound behind her. It sounded pained. Shocked. Desperate.

Then the door was closed behind her and the cafeteria was gone, only metal door left.

* * * * *

Jordan woke, groggy and woozy, as she often did. One hand was resting on her metal cupped breast while the other was draped over her groin. Confused, she sat up in a daze, her hands going to her head. Why did she wake up like this? Must have been the bad food here. For the past four days she'd eaten the sloppy shit they served here, and it was little more than nutrient sustenance. Perhaps that explained the hands, too - perhaps she had been clutching herself in her sleep from a stomach ache and they had ended up there afterwards.

Sitting up, Jordan tried to remember her past time here, but it was all a fog of grey walls and grey food. How long now? Four days? That sounded right. Drearily she opened her eyes to look about and noticed for the first time that Rachel wasn't there. Starting, she made to move, but felt her stomach and her whole groin region feel strangely heavy, pulling her down and nearly off her bed. She could hardly move.

As she dragged herself back up, her body weak and somehow weighing a ton, the door crashed open and Rachel, arms bent behind her, was thrown in by a guard. She toppled to the ground, her chained ankles unable to spread far enough to catch herself. As she fell she caught herself awkwardly on her bent wrists, spraining her right one. Her cry of pain fell on deaf ears as the barred door swung shut behind her.

Jordan didn't say anything for a few moments while Rachel got herself to her feet, only moving to help when she saw the girl struggle even more than usual in her chains under the pained wrist. Helping Rachel back to her metal bed, she only felt the strange pull in her body when she stepped back from her friend. She sat back heavily on her own bed, her chains clinking, her head foggy.

'Thank you...' Rachel breathed, sitting on her metal bed heavily. Her wrist panged as she made to move herself about to get the belt comfortable between her cheeks. Cursing in her head, she began to think. She'd been taken to the cafeteria where her and another girl were inspected, but for what? Rachel had seen girls inside this place one day and gone the next, but she'd never seen where they'd gone or why they'd left. If this was a clue, then this meant someone - the suit might be a clue, someone important - was personally choosing which ones are taken. That was good information to know, even if she didn't know why just yet.

'Rachel?' Jordan asked, her soft voice gently piercing her thoughts. Rachel had been sitting in silence for thirty seconds, Jordan watching intently. 'You're thinking of something. What happened this morning? Why were you taken out?'

Rachel took a few seconds to look at her friend, and to take a breath. Explanations were due, and perhaps Jordan needed to know the truth she hadn't been told yet. Rachel mentally shrugged and spoke.

'I didn't see too much. I was taken out by the guards and held down while I was inspected. Another girl was there, a big girl like me. He chose her, I don't know what for, presumably to be sold or traded or whatever it is that happens to us after this.' She gestured about with her good hand. 'Then I was hauled back here.' Rachel took a breath. 'As for the man who picked between us, well... I think it was the big one, the high up. The same man who ran the operation back at the shipping yard.'

Jordan took a slight breath. 'You mean he comes here? Often? I mean, if you're right, if he does come here to pick the right female for his... Sale, that might mean we have a real chance of getting to the top of this operation.' Jordan seemed hopeful, her back straight, her eyes glinting. 'Progress, Rachel! And so soon after getting in here. It's almost like destiny, isn't it? I told you back in that container that we'd get out of here, and we will.' Jordan reached out and put her arm on Rachel's knee, the most she could do in the wristlets chained to her hips and legs. But Rachel didn't respond to Jordan's positivity. Instead, she just watched the brown haired girl, looked into her eyes. Jordan saw her gaze and retracted her hand.

'Rachel?'

'Jordan... How long have we been here?' Rachel's voice was level, her tone even. But her eyes never left Jordan's. Sitting back now, concerned, Jordan took a moment to appraise the big girl's attitude before replying.

'Four days. Why?'

Rachel took a breath. 'You're wrong. We haven't been here for four days, Jordan. We've been here just over two months.'

Jordan took a second to look at her. 'You're kidding, right?' She felt her heart pounding at the other girl's words.

'No, Jordan, I'm not. I've been counting the nights. We left the truck sixty-five days ago. We've been here for two months, and four days in they started bringing us hot chocolates. You wake up early every morning the same way you go to sleep, sitting up. You keep watch some nights. You stay alert. And then, bright and early, they bring you a warm drink with a sedative in it that turns you into a frothing, horny vegetable for half an hour or so. They don't do it every day, but it must be stronger after a spell without. By the end, you're so dazed you can't stand straight for a few hours, and after every single morning this happens you tell me the same thing; that you think you almost have a plan, four days in to our capture.

You're sure that in a day or two you'll have worked it out. You reassure us all, tell us to stay positive, and then the next morning you wake up and sip your cup and I have to watch you slump against the wall and fuck your chains till your brain tells you you came and then listen to the same speech again, and the only thing I get to do about it is watch and listen and try not to drink my own drugged mug. I can't get off my bed and if I manage to you fight me deliriously. It just gets worse. I've been tipping some of mine into yours as many days as I can, to try to make it look like I've had mine too, but I can only do that when they release the magnets. You're already dripping by the time that happens, already long gone.' She paused, seemed to have an afterthought that wasn't really relevant. 'I guess it's also how they keep us in shape.'

Jordan was shocked. She looked at Rachel with open mouth. Rachel, seeing the effect her words had had on Jordan, and realising she might have let her words pour a little unhindered after so long not talking, stood and sat beside her friend. She put an arm around Jordan's waist.

'Jords, look... I know it's hard to believe, but it's true. I've been working on my own plan, though. I have an idea, but I'll need your help to-' As Rachel spoke, Jordan caught her off guard, grabbing her face and sucking onto her lips. The soft pillows caught Rachel off guard for a moment and she only just managed to push the other girl off her before her tongue slid right past her lips and into her mouth.

Jordan rose up, tongue still out, chest heaving. Her eyes had glassed and she was tensing. Rachel squirmed backwards, but Jordan was kneeling now, going for her crotch front. She pressed against the metal, her cheek hard against the surface. Rachel shuffled back on her butt, trying to move along the ground, her wrist burning with fierce pain as she moved. Jordan was clawing at her belt now and Rachel could feel the girl's fingertips pressing under the soft fabric inside of the casing, trying to pry underneath and gain access to Rachel's smut. Sensing the girl was in a drug rush, she flicked one leg up to roll her off but only found her chains going taut at her ankles, uselessly holding her foot a few inches off the ground away from the other leg pinned under the hallucinating female. Clearly In a sort of aphrodisiac heat Jordan was tonguing the tube that was the only port of entry to Rachel's pussy, a tiny one at that, a pee hole.

Rachel had to move, and soon, or Jordan would never stop until she had worn herself out, an event that could take hours. Quickly thinking of the options she had and her relative position she had only one choice. Forcing her hips up, she pushed Jordan's face back harshly with her metal clad crotch and then twisted her back, rolling her legs around in an arc. Catching her friend and attacker with the cross-work of chains stringing from ankle to ankle, thigh to groin and back to ankle again, she swung Jordan to her side and off balance. The girl fell sideways and Rachel swung herself up, tucking her legs under her and rising to her knees. This would have worked if her chains hadn't caught around two that connected Jordan's wrist clamp to her belt, yanking her forwards again. Yelping in pain she crashed into the girl, knocking Rachel back onto her back, her chest harness digging painfully between her shoulder blades.

Outside in the hallway all was quiet. Two black clad guards stood, their arms folded, small, compact dart pistols held loosely in their hands or sitting in holsters by their sides. At a crash from a nearby cell to their left, the two gave each other a look and a nod before moving into their formation -- one in front, the other aside and behind, backing up -- the lead guard slid the lock back, undid the electronic pad and swung the cell door open. Inside two of the inmates, red group members, had their chains caught and were trying to pull apart unsuccessfully. One seemed to be suffering from monoideism withdrawal, making approaches on the other, while she seemed to be trying to get her under control.

Gesturing behind, the guard pounced forwards, gripping Rachel's arms tightly in both hands. Within moments she was flying backwards away from Jordan, black-clad arms sliding around her chest, tightening under her metal cupped breasts. With the reinforced metal of the harnessing, there was no slipping room, and the guard manhandled her easily backwards. Her leg chains pulled painfully away from Jordan's as the second guard entered past the first and knelt, leaning on her shoulders and holding her back. As Rachel was spun around and forced stomach first against the wall under her oppressor's weight, she strained to turn her head and look at her friend.

'Jordan!' she choked past her collar. 'You have to help me! We have, to go... Now!'

Jordan struggled for a moment with her guard bearing over her, his hands tight against her shoulders. From her position, Rachel couldn't see her properly, but she didn't seem to have heard what she'd said, or chosen not to register with her words. Realising in her mind that she would have to go alone, she gritted her teeth and pushed her cheek into the smooth wall of her cell.

"Okay, Rachel, breathe. He's leaning on your chest harness. If you can tense those ankle chains you can shin him and maybe his weight will hold you up in the harness long enough to push his leg out with both of yours. Okay. Set. Count. One... Two..." Rachel ticked down in her mind, focussing, calming, channelling herself like she'd done years ago in her martial arts classes back in school. She saw her movements in her mind, saw how it would play out.

With a grunt, Rachel jammed her face against the wall and struck out with both heels up and out. With one leg between his and the other outside, her ankle chains went taut around the guard's leg. Leaning as he was on her upper body, his weight was more forward than it needed to be. As she forced his ankle backwards he lost balance slightly, and that was enough. His heel kicked out from under him and Rachel spun, raising her opposite arm to push him over with. It was crude, and unattractive as far as disabling moves go, but it did the trick and that was all it needed to do. He fell sideways, landing awkwardly half on Rachel's metal bedframe. With a quick hop she got her legs over his and knelt, her leg chains cutting into his side, and dropped her breast cup against his cheek.

It was a stunner, not the knockout she might have been hoping for, but she couldn't do much more with the very limited range of movement her chastity offered. Rocking back she channelled her momentum and dived out the door before anyone else could ruin the escape. Nearly tumbling over from her speed, she quickly spun and kicked the door shut behind her.

And all of a sudden, all was silent.

* * * * *

Rachel would have bolted down the corridor, but her chains still held her from anything more than a shuffled walk. It wasn't that there was a long distance to cover -- it was only a short hall with cells along its sides, a thirty second walk -- rather that she had no time to risk another guard finding her free. "Free. Right..." Rachel's mind scoffed. She was, even if not locked in her cell, still in chains, belts, straps and harnesses. Some freedom. Then again, chains could be removed -- a cell room could not.

Moving as quickly and as quietly as she could, pulling herself along the wall, Rachel was about two thirds of the way to the only exit door, the cafeteria door, when a dull thud came to her through the wall. Then, a moment later, another thud accompanied her cell room door swinging open, a black clad individual with a small, stub nosed hand gun hanging from one limp arm slumping through it and onto the ground. The guard's helmet clapped against the hard floor under their fall. Turning sharply, Rachel caught sight of the black clad person on the floor and turned, shuffling back quickly. As she rounded the corner and saw in the cell, she couldn't help but crack a tiny little smile at what she saw. There, on her back, legs bent, a small micro-hypodermic round casing clinging to her shoulder, lay Jordan, evidently having just kicked her attacker into the door to knock him out and, whether deliberately or otherwise, open it for her. She gave a lop-sided grin to Rachel when she saw her friend framed before her.