The Kingdom Ch. 16

I shifted weakly in my restraints, hoping to find a more comfortable position on the bed I was restrained to. For the past several hours, I'd been lying on my back, immobilized by a latex straitjacket and leashed to the top of my bed frame. A leather strap connecting the front and back of the straitjacket ran uncomfortably between my naked legs. Fortunately, my feet were left unrestrained so I was able to curl in a fetal position to compensate for the lack of a blanket.

My cell-mate here at the kennel had been summoned by security guards about an hour and a half earlier, leaving me completely alone. Typically, I hated being alone. But not tonight. I found solitude preferable since it allowed me to wallow and sob as loudly as I wished. It hadn't even been a full night since Jodie had abruptly kicked me out but it felt as if days had passed. I couldn't ever remember feeling so hurt and confused. The events of the previous evening had all happened so fast. One moment, I was making Jodie a cup of coffee and the next I was soaking wet from the rain, checking myself back into the kennel.

Normally, I'd have taken an Ambien to take the edge off after such a horrible day. But self-medicating was now a privilege of the past. Here, I was a full-blown prisoner and my future had never felt more uncertain. And that uncertainty was taking an emotional toll. A few hours ago, I'd woken up to a full-blown panic attack. Medical staff quickly rushed in to untether me and helped me with deep breathing exercises. Eventually, once I regained my composure, I was returned to my straitjacket and leash and instructed to sleep. However, the staff must have taken pity on me because the straps were noticeably less strict than they had been earlier.

Given everything that had transpired, sleeping was easier said than done. For hours, I could only stare at the ceiling contemplating the horrors that awaited me when I eventually left this place. Tom Murphy, owner of the sex machine shop called Murphy's Hall, had purchased me several days ago at the auction. After accidentally poisoning me, he ended up getting thrown promptly into the kennel on charges of negligence. This meant that I, as well as Murphy's other slave, Tasha Quincy were required to serve the same stretch of time.

But to my relief, I was saved. Jodie swept in and saved me from the jaws of despair. She managed to strike a deal that allowed me to stay with her for the duration of Murphy's sentence. And not only that, she promised to buy me from Murphy as soon as his sentence was complete. Despite having only known her for a few days, I connected with Jodie more deeply than I could have thought possible. But none of that mattered anymore. Because she didn't feel the same way I felt about her and she ultimately sent me away.

The sound of the cell door sliding open snapped me out of my thoughts and prompted me to lift my head. Without my glasses, I had to squint to make out the two figures as they entered the cell. A security guard briskly led my cellmate, Tasha, toward a bed on the opposite side of the room by the leash. Tasha was a beautiful and toned black woman with a shaved head and she too was a slave of Tom Murphy. She was, by far, the toughest women I'd encountered in this place and seemed almost undaunted by everything that was happening to her. In a strange way, her resilience inspired me to be stronger. Or at least to pretend to be.

Tasha wore a black straitjacket matching the one I had on, but hers appeared smaller due to the larger size of her breasts. Once they reached the twin-size bed, the guard attached the end of the leash to a peg in the center of the horizontal bar at the top of the bed frame. After giving her a push, Tasha sat silently onto the bed as he proceeded to unbuckle her ring-gag and pull it from her mouth. As soon as it was free from her behind her teeth, she let out a relieved groan and worked her jaw open and closed.

Before turning to leave, the guard condescendingly patted Tasha's cheek with his hand. I could see Tasha's eyes close in suppressed rage as the man walked back to the entrance of the cell.

Stopping in the doorway, the guard gave the touchscreen on the wall a few taps. Suddenly, Tasha grunted as her predicament began to change. The horizontal bar that her leash had been connected to began to spin, effectively causing the leash to shorten as it spooled. To avoid being choked, Tasha laid down on the bed and scooted toward the top. Once there was about 10 inches of slack, the bar stopped spinning, allowing Tasha to cease her efforts to crawl any closer. She sighed as she rested the side of her face on the mattress.

"Current's live in three," the guard said before making a final tap to the touch screen and turning to leave.

I knew what this meant and quickly began scooting down as low as I could without being choked by my leash. As soon as I was able, I pressed the soles of my feet onto the horizontal steel bar at the base of the bed frame in order to avoid being pelted with electricity through my collar. So long as my feet were touching the bar, I'd be safe.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I heard Tasha mutter from across the room. "Uh, little help here?" Tasha called to the guard as she squirmed frantically toward the foot of her bed. Her feet flailed as she desperately tried to make contact with the horizontal bar. "Hello?!"

Just then, I heard the cell door begin to slide shut, followed by Tasha's ear-piercing shriek. "AAAAAAHHHHHH!" She screamed, obviously feeling the effects of the electricity to her neck. "Did that fucker seriously leave?!" She screamed as her neck craned upward to buy herself another inch.

I watched helplessly as Tasha writhed in agony. Despite her grandest efforts, the tautness of her leash prevented her from moving far enough down the bed for her feet to reach the bar.

"Tasha, try to scoot toward me!" I called over urgently. "It looks like you'll have more slack if you scoot to your left." Screaming through gritted teeth, Tasha took my advice and rolled over to face me. Surely enough, it did seem to buy her a little bit of slack. Using that slack to scoot further down the bed, Tasha was finally able to stop shouting in pain as the tips of her big toes were able to make contact with the bar at the foot of her bed.

"Fucker!!!" Tasha hollered as she arched her back to further elongate herself. After a labored sigh, she added, "My shins are definitely gonna feel this tomorrow."

"I'm so sorry, Tasha," I replied.

Tasha gave a long frustrated sigh. "You know, I was actually excited when I found out that I was coming to the kennel. After everything Murphy's put me through this past week, I figured this might even feel a like a vacation. What a fuckin' fool I am." Unsure of how to console her, I didn't say anything. "How the panic attacks?" She added. "Have any more episodes since I left?

"Um, I feel a bit better now," I replied. "No more episodes."

"Shame," Tasha replied curtly.

"Sorry?" I asked, tilting my head in confusion.

"I mean, shame in the sense that it bought you some sympathy. Less than a minute after you started hyperventilating, the medical staff rushed in, untethered you, tended to your every need," she clarified. "I wish I knew how to hyperventilate like that."

"I wasn't faking," I stated, coming across more defensive than I'd intended.

"Oh, I didn't mean to imply you were," Tasha countered. "These collars don't sound the alarms for acting performances. Only for real emergencies." I stayed silent, unsure how to reply. Her implication that having a panic attack was preferable to not having one was supremely inaccurate. But not wishing to get into a debate, I decided to let it go.

"I'm sure panic attacks are no picnic," Tasha clarified. "I'm just saying that after your episode they cleared your schedule for the night."

I hesitated before replying, "They did?"

"Yep," Tasha replied. "Scheduled me for a double shift to let you rest."

A cloud of guilt suddenly descended upon me. "I'm- so sorry," I breathed.

"Ah, fuck it," Tasha replied. "It's nothing different from what I was doing before you got here."

"What did they do to you?" I asked hesitantly.

"Eh, nothing I couldn't handle," Tasha deflected. "Compared to the shit I dealt with at Murphy's, it wasn't too bad."

"And what kind of things happened to you at Murphy's?" I asked, partially out of concern for Tasha and partially out of worry for my own future. "If you don't mind my asking."

"You wanna know what to expect," Tasha replied, having read my mind.

"Yes," I answered quietly.

"Welp, the fucker builds and sells fucking machines," Tasha replied. "Which makes me his full-time guinea pig slash demonstration model. Basically, I get my pussy and ass pounded at various speeds by phalluses of various size for... well, most of the entire day."

"That sounds... awful," I replied in a horrified whisper.

"Eventually, yes," Tasha replied. "But it helps to think of each day as a roller coaster. Each has ups and downs. As a nympho, I fuckin' crave sex. I don't care if it's girl-on-guy, girl-on-girl, girl-on-girl-on-guy-guy-guy. I just wake up each morning with an unshakable longing to be stuffed. And on one hand, it's nice to know that a thick rubber dildo is almost always in my immediate future. But on the other hand, it's a classic case of having too much of a good thing. Basically, each day starts off feeling good, all things considering. Up until the point that it doesn't. And that's when the roller coaster ceases to be enjoyable."

"Have you ever asked him to- you know, ease up?" I asked. "I mean, does he ever stop when you sees that you've had too much?"

Tasha suddenly began laughing. "Sweetie, that old bastard doesn't take requests from nobody. After I made the mistake of telling him how much I hated vibrators, he literally built a new sybian with an extra-high setting." I said nothing, weighing the gravity of her words. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.

"But with you joining me at Murphy's," Tasha continued, "I'm hoping that the workload might be a bit less on account of his focus being more... spread out. Less track for the roller coaster, so to speak. Instead of one person being fucked out by noon, maybe the both of us might be able enjoy the ride til, I don't know, dinnertime..."

"You're on the machines all day?" I asked incredulously.

"Sometimes nights too," Tasha replied, making me gulp.

"And what about... real intercourse?" I asked.

"Well, prior to coming to the kennel, I never even saw the old man naked. That was probably the nicest thing about my time at Murphy's Hall. No matter how much I had on my plate, at least I didn't have to fuck a shriveled old dick."

"But wait- I thought he captured you on the hunt." I countered. "Didn't he have to... you know-"

"Oh, don't even get me started on that," Tasha replied, her voice suddenly sounding angry. "That bastard only caught me because he rigged an unlocking station with his cock-ring."

My mouth dropped in surprise. "No way."

"Yyyyep," she replied spitefully. "I'd already unlocked my gag and was only one lock away from winning the whole damn thing. But when I found the second unlocking station, I didn't spot the cock-ring at the base of the dildo. Instead of unlocking my chastity belt, I ended up capturing myself. For him."

"Oh my god, Tasha," I replied. "I don't even know what to say. That's so unfair!"

"Tell me about it," Tasha grumbled. "I tried to contest the capture, but the gamesmen were just a bunch of racist pricks."

"That makes me so angry for you," I said, shaking my head.

"Yeah, me too," Tasha replied. "But all that to say, the old geezer never even tried to fuck me. I was starting to think he might be asexual. But as it turned out, he was impotent."

"Impotent?" I asked in relief. "Oh thank god!" The emotional weight on my shoulders suddenly seemed to lift. As a sexually inexperienced lesbian, the thought of being forced to have sex with a sadistic older man was terrifying.

"Well, not so fast," Tasha interjected. "I said he was impotent. Apparently, he was in an accident or some shit that caused nerve damage. Couldn't get hard anymore. But, yesterday, all that changed."

"Wait. What? How?" I asked.

"When we were admitted to the kennel, he and I started off in a cell together. And the lady who runs this place- uh, Annabelle I think her name is- she came in and offered him some cutting-edge medical procedure that would raise his dick from the dead. And he agreed."

"Did it work?" I asked cautiously.

Tasha gave a long sigh. "Welp, after just completing a combined total of three hours of forced cock-worship, I can confirm... it worked. That's actually what I was doing on your shift right before this."

"Oh god," I whispered, feeling my optimism vanish. "How is that even possible? I mean, what kind of medical procedure can even do that?"

"Well whatever it was left his dick unrecognizable, I'll tell you that," Tasha replied.

"Huh?" I asked, unsure that I really wanted clarification.

"Well, before he went in for surgery, when we shared the cell together, it looked all shriveled and old and pasty," she explained. "But when he got out- damn, that fucker was big. Like, BBC big. Whatever they did must've drastically increased blood flow or something. The shaft has like, these metallic gold strips tattooed from the flap to his lower abdomen. Kind of like soldering on a computer chip."

"Artificial nerve endings," I mused quietly.

"Maybe," Tasha replied. "But whatever they are, it makes it work like a normal dick. Goes soft to hard, throbs, cums, everything you'd expect. Only bigger."

"I think I feel sick," I muttered as I contemplated my future.

"Yeah, things will probably be a bit different moving forward," Tasha added.

Just then, the cell door slid open and two guards entered. One guard began tapping on the touchpad by the door and the one behind him carried in a tray holding four bowls. Suddenly, the horizontal bars at our headboards began to spin the opposite way they had earlier, loosening the leashes that were coiled around it. I heard Tasha groan in relief as her neck was finally relieved of the strain that her leash had caused for the last 10 minutes.

Then the tray was placed on the floor between Tasha and me. Even without my glasses, I could see that two of the bowls contained water and the other two contained a substance that resembled oatmeal. As I stared at the unappealing gruel, one of the guards stepped up beside me and unclipped my leash. Then, he unbuckled the leather strap between my legs. The other guard repeated the same process for Tasha.

"You both have four minutes to eat and use the bathroom," said one of the guards as they turned to leave the cell. "Then, you'll be taken to group."

"So, five minutes is strictly out of the question?" asked Tasha sarcastically as she sat upright and placed her feet on the floor. The guards ignored her as they exited. "Good talk!" Tasha added antagonistically as the door slid closed behind them.

"What did he mean by group?" I asked as I sat upright.

"Ugh, it's this AA-style group therapy nonsense we're forced to go to every other day," Tasha explained. "Essentially an hour for us to bitch about how sad and unfair our lives are. It's new this year. Pet project of some Indian doctor chick." Tasha knelt down onto her knees and leaned over her bowl of food. "Better eat up, K," she said. "Whatever you don't finish is thrown away. And who knows if or when they'll serve lunch."

I watched in mild disgust as Tasha began licking and slurping her oatmeal like a dog. The more time that passed, the more this place actually began to feel like a kennel. Following Tasha's lead, I dropped to my knees as well and began scooping oatmeal into my mouth with my tongue. Fortunately, my hair had been tied up in a bun so I didn't have to worry about hair in my mouth. I scrunched my nose as I forced myself to swallow the tasteless sludge. It wasn't bad, necessarily. But the consistency and texture was almost unappetizing enough to trigger my gag reflex. I forced myself to consume 10 licks before finally calling it quits. Tasha continued to lick noisily until her bowl was completely clean. Then, she began lapping up water from the bowl next to it. Moments later, she straightened back up, arching her back and licking the remnants of oatmeal from her lips. I looked away, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable. But Tasha seemed entirely unfazed by this meal routine. Almost as if she'd done it hundreds of times. Without saying a word, she stood to her feet and crossed over to the toilet against the far wall.

"Sorry if this grosses you out," Tasha said as she sat down on the toilet.

"No, you're fine," I said as I struggled to my feet. Trying to give Tasha some privacy, I walked to the other side of the room. A few seconds later, the toilet flushed automatically and Tasha stood to her feet.

"All yours," Tasha said.

"Oh, thanks." I said awkwardly as I crossed the room and sat on the toilet. As soon as I finished receiving myself, a geyser suddenly pelted my sex, rinsing me clean. No matter how many times I'd used a bidet, I don't think I've ever not jumped out of my skin from the sensation. Even when I was controlling when it happened, it always seemed to catch me off-guard.

No sooner did I stand to my feet, the door of the cell slid back open and the two guards came back inside, leash in hand.

"Break's over," the guard in front said. "Time for group."

Without any instruction, Tasha walked up to them and stood patiently while one of the guards re-buckled the leather strap between her legs clipped a leash to her collar. Following her lead, I stepped in front of them as well. I closed my eyes as I felt the other guard's fingers graze my sex as he secured the strap between my legs. Next, my leash was attached to my collar. Without saying another word, the guards pulled us from our cell by our leashes and led us down the long hallway. After about a minute's walk, we stopped in front of a large frosted-glass-paneled sliding door.

After one of our guards pressed a key card against the locking mechanism on the wall, the door slid open, revealing a room full of women seated in chairs positioned in a circle formation. Only two seats remained unoccupied. All but one of the women were attired as we were. Pantless, shoeless, collared, and straitjacketed. The only woman who was not wearing a straitjacket or collar was an attractive well-dressed Indian woman in a white doctor's jacket. She sat with her legs crossed, holding a clipboard in her lap.

"Welcome," said the Indian woman with a smile. After the guards unclipped our leashes, she motioned toward the two empty seat to her right. "Please take a seat," she added pleasantly. Tasha and I obliged and sat down next to each other. "Well, now that everyone's here, let's go ahead and get started. If you're joining us for the first time today, my name is Dr. Priya Puri. I'm a clinical psychologist who was hired to counsel and support women such as yourselves."

A blonde woman sitting across from me snorted loudly, rolling her eyes.

Priya ignored her and continued, "Everyone in this room is here due to malfeasants or violations committed by their owners. It's only natural for someone in your position to feel resentful, confused, and even hurt. The purpose of these group sessions is to help everyone work through feelings of stress and negativity in order to find a healthy and manageable path forward."