Chapter Text
The guards move seamlessly to make sure that I never have a moment where I could escape as they pull my arms behind my back while also keeping me pinned to the ground. It’s not like it’s hard. I’m not fighting. It’s easy to just relax and let them move me. At least until I hear the clinking. Cuffs. That’s when I begin to thrash. I know it’s not smart but I can’t stop my body from reacting to that damned sound.
Her voice rings out, loud and crystal clear, but not strained. “Stop! Let her up. I’ll cuff her myself.”
The guards all obey with careful haste. They push off of me in coordinated ways that would leave me minimal time to lash out if I was still trying to fight. She walks over. Calm but firm. She reaches her hand out to me. I take it and she helps me to my feet. I can’t look up at her. I keep my eyes on my feet.
“Wrists out Alice. Do not speak. Do not make any abrupt movements. Do not struggle against the cuffs. Do not make eye contact with anyone. I’m very disappointed in you Alice. I thought you could be a good girl. But really, on your first day?” She finishes fastening the leather cuffs around my wrists. “Move.”
The walk back to my cell happens in complete silence. I fucked up. I really really fucked up. She said it over and over. It’s in the packet. Violence is absolutely not allowed and will always be severely punished. I’m so fucked. She’s never been mad at me like this. I can feel it rolling off of her in waves. It’s worse than when she shut Scarlet down earlier because now I know it’s directed at me. Before now she’s only ever been mildly displeased when I forgot a title or phrased something wrong.
Now I’m actually really scared of Her for the first time. I’ve been scared before here, but until now I think I’ve really been scared of concepts. That first day I was scared about the idea of anyone being near me, not her specifically. When I was scared because I thought she might activate the collar I was scared of the object and the fact that anyone could activate it, not her specifically. Now? Right now I think she is angry enough that she could actually hurt me and that has me afraid.
The door slides open silently and she points for me to go inside just how an upset parent would direct a child throwing a tantrum. The cuffs don’t come off as she sits me down on the bed and looms over me at her full height.
“We’re going to walk through the full correction protocol that the girls upstairs use. How well you obey will significantly factor into how serious your punishment is. First I will say one sentence and you will repeat after me, you will say nothing else. ‘I apologize for my infraction Ma’am.’ Speak.”
“I apologize for my infraction Ma’am.”
“Tell me how we got here Alice. Be entirely honest with me. That wasn’t like you at all. What went wrong down there?”
There’s a test buried here somewhere. Am I supposed to just explain what happened? If I try to explain myself will she say I’m just making excuses and increase the punishment? Is this a trust thing? Does she actually want me to open up? It’s so hard to tell right now with my thoughts spinning a million miles per hour but getting nowhere fast.
“She called me a sissy Ma’am. I just… I’m not. I can’t be. I have to be Alice. I have to be a girl. But I was a bad slave and I was wrong and that’s not ok that’s not what Alice should do and-“
“Quiet.” She holds up a single finger as she shushes me. She stays completely still and focused on something in the middle distance for a long time. “Lan just sent me the audio clip. I understand. That was a horrible thing to say to you. Wisteria is… a troubled girl. She makes herself miserable and finds comfort in making others even more miserable. Obviously me saying that doesn’t just make everything alright. She deliberately weaponized one of your trauma triggers despite explicitly being warned about it in advance and knowing that there would be consequences. And that… puts us in one hell of a tight spot. She was in the wrong. She started it and your actions were a direct result of what your uncle and Elizabeth did to you. It’s understandable, hell it’s even justified. But on the other hand, there are rules. Very important rules that you broke. Violence is never an option here Alice. Never. Your future owner might do things even worse than that to you and we can’t put a slave up for sale if there is even the slightest chance that they could lash out at their betters. Any trace of actual violence has to be crushed. So what am I supposed to do with you?”
She pauses the monologue and just stares at me. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to respond. She was addressing me and she did end on a question so… be respectful? “I… will do my best to endure whatever you decide Ma’am.”
She mouths something under her breath. I’m not good at lip reading but I swear she whispered ‘Oh my god.’ I really hope that was a good OMG and not and not a so-frustrated-I-could-kill-you OMG.
She takes a deep breath. “Ok. Ok. You’re more resilient than most girls. I haven’t seen how you react to different types of pain yet so I have no idea what is going to work for you. I know what to do. You’ll wait here. I’m going to get some things set up in the main room. You will wait here. You will sit there quietly and you will not move. You will not read. You will think about what you’ve done and steps that you could take in the future to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
If an acrylic sliding door could slam the panel definitely would have slammed as she left. I don’t think she was angry at me anymore. It felt more like she was walking with a purpose, and that she was moderately upset, frustrated, and strict. I think… I think I’ll be ok. She seems like she knows what she’s doing way more than Elizabeth did. I don’t think she’ll… break break me.
I’m going to fucking BREAK that girl! Those big watery eyes! The sad flush on her cheeks! She’s going to be so fucking pretty for me. I need…
“Lan? Please, please dear god tell me you got that clip!”
They squeal into their mic. The electronics don’t capture the sound perfectly but I can just picture how they must be bouncing in their seat. “Did I fucking ever! Fuck! She said that!?! She seriously said that?!? So! Fucking! Cute!”
“I know! She came up with it herself! ‘I will do my best to endure whatever you decide!’ I wanted to spin her around and fuck her right there on the bed! You have to send that to everyone! Actually, send it to my phone first. I want to send it to the group chat. Ophelia will go feral.”
I take out my phone and dial Nell. She picks up with a sigh. “What’s up?”
“Alice is getting her first punishment. She punched someone. Don’t worry, it was justified. She was fucking adorable while going through a correction protocol with me. You should get the clip soon. Need help with an estimate of how many strokes and what implements.”
“Jesus Christ let a girl breathe for a few seconds! Ok, a belt is out. So is a ping pong paddle. And probably anything similar, think light paddle with a big surface area. You remember that was what she beat Alice with while she was burning her, right? I think for impact those are just about the only limitations. You’ll wanna test her reactions and limits with a bunch of different types of pain. Maybe ten strokes each with say eight toys? If we spread out the types of pain and the locations she should be alright. A dragon tail and the knotted scourge you have for the upper back, and maybe slaps with vampire gloves in the same area? Blood running down her back will make it more intimidating for the other girls. Then just whatever on her butt and thighs?”
I shake my head. “No. Not eighty. That’s too high. And ten each defeats the purpose. It doesn’t give an accurate read of her reactions, and I don’t want her to associate all impact play with punishment. Two implements twenty strikes each. I have a hairbrush and a different scourge that will draw some blood. I’ll start with that and by the time I’m done with the hairbrush the blood will have pooled enough to get the message across.”
“Too low! Three implements, I get your point about not wanting to ruin sensations for her. Twenty each. Something thuddy for the third one so you know how she reacts.”
“Two implements thirty each. The knotted scourge and a heavy paddle. That’s as high as I'm going. At the end of the day she’s mine, and while I appreciate your feedback Nell, I won't risk breaking her.”
0601’s voice surprises me, it takes me a moment to realize she must be with Lan in the booth. “Have you made any plans for aftercare Miss? She’ll need something to anchor herself to for comfort.”
My feet stop dead mere feet from the elevator but too far away to push the button. “I… hadn’t thought about it. That’s going to be difficult. She’s come to me for comfort twice but I wasn’t the source of the distress either time. She’s going to be in such a fragile state that I would worry any touch that she doesn’t initiate might remind her of Elizabeth.”
“Perhaps it’s best if you simply make yourself available Miss? You could sit in your chair, since she already feels safe when you do that, and then just wait for her to ask for what she needs.”
I nod. “That works. It gives her the initiative. I’ll also bring down some snacks. A granola bar and some jerky maybe, just to help with the blood sugar crash.”
So much work to do for my precious girl.
I think this is it. Ten days. I made it ten days without thinking that I would be better off dead. Now? It’s back. She’s gone. I’m going to get tortured again. Pain really is the rest of my life no matter what I do. No matter how nice she seemed at first, I think it was always going to come to this. She’s gone for a long time. Long enough for the dread to really set in. I wonder if that was the point.
When she does finally come back her face is strict but I think she’s excited for what’s about to happen. I think she’s excited to hurt me. The leather cuffs go back on and she leads me back down to the big room with the tables. Everyone else is already here. I know it’s probably roughly the same number of people that were here this morning but now they all feel like a silent crowd observing an execution rather than just… people.
A small wooden stand has been set up next to a large wooden X. It’s a St. Andrew’s cross. There are attachment points on all four corners so I won't be able to struggle. The table is the scarier part. It has a bunch of things on it and while some of them look evil, others feel completely random. Theres a wooden spoon, a hairbrush and a fucking horse comb on the table right along side leather gloves with spikes coming out of them and several crazy looking whips. Those don’t seem like they belong in the same place.
She unhooks my cuffs from each other and makes a gesture. There’s a long moment where no one moves before I realize what I’m supposed to do.
Strip.
That signal means strip. Of course I have to be naked for whatever the fuck this is. Without my clothes the air in here is way too cold and goosebumps quickly prickle my skin.
Then she leans in and rests a hand on my shoulder. I can feel her press up against me every point of contact feels like fire on my rapidly cooling skin.
She whispers in my ear. “I’m only using two of the things from that table. It’s going to look worse than it is and it will hurt quite a bit in the moment but I promise that as soon as this is over you will be safe. You will be forgiven. You will be cared for. Just… try to relax. It will hurt less if you aren’t tense.”
Try to fucking relax?!? Before I can retort with anything else after biting back my initial response she’s already pulled away.
The room feels different now. The most neutral things like the paint on the walls are hostile. And now I’m strung up. The first lash lands with no warning. It's like hot lines of fire lancing across my back. The pain is concentrated where heavy lumps smashed into me and then tugged on the skin making small chevrons of scraped skin. There's no time to process the damage before the second one comes. Thirty? Thirty of these? I’m not screaming, not yet and the third comes from left to right instead of right to left.
And yet… It's not… It’s not like when Eli was hurting me. This feels like… It means something. This isn’t just mindless unpredictable violence. It’s rhythmic. It’s sharp, but it’s not like having my skin broken by a cattle prod. By the tenth it’s… actually possible to follow her advice. My shoulders drop. I still flinch when the thirteenth lands but it’s bearable. I think she makes it bearable. I knew who she was as soon as we met. There was no pretense or betrayal unlike with Elizabeth. There's blood now. It’s just seeping out of where the knots hit. I’m pretty sure that’s what they are now. I’m also pretty sure there's something abrasive tied into the knots to make them bleed more.
By the end… I’m still not screaming. I’m moaning. From a distance I’m pretty sure it sounds like a groan but… it’s definitely… not sexually charged, but it is something. I’m not aroused by this but it’s like pressing on a sore muscle or digging a fingernail into a cut. It’s not fun but it’s grounding. And then it’s over. She’s finished the thirty with the whip.
There's a wooden clattering as she picks up something else from the table. The first hit shakes me to my bones and slams my hips into the cross. The pain goes deep but also stings a little on the surface. I think that was a paddle, like the big wooden ones. The horrible thump stretched across both my hips. She keeps going over and over and each one feels like it’s throwing bruises deep into the muscles. This sensation is nothing like the other one. I HATE this feeling. I’m pulling at the cuffs, especially the ones on the ankles as my feet thrash against the restraints and I rest more weight against the wrist cuffs because my balance is shot.
Thirty can't come soon enough. And then it’s over. Lan and the Reader work together to take me off the cross. I’m sure I’ve been in more pain at some point but for some reason my legs just don't want to work. They help me back to my cell and lay me down on my bed.
The Reader stays. Sitting on that same stupid chair, with that same stupid imperious look on her face, like nothing bothers her. Like what she did was just another Tuesday for her. I don’t want her to be here. I don’t want her to be pretty with her perfect makeup and not a hair out of place while I’m…
But She’s in the stupid chair. Reading her stupid book. There’s a granola bar and two pieces of jerky on a napkin on the shelves at the foot of the bed. But she’s in the same place she’s been every time, especially when she did nice things like turning off my collar. The same place she sat that first day when I felt more like a cornered animal than a person.
I think that feeling is back. Like my thoughts don’t make it all the way through. Like I can’t make myself be a whole person. If someone asked me a question, even about something that I know like the back of my hand, I don’t think I could answer. My internal monologue is still… mostly there. But even the idea of trying to externalize anything makes me want to puke.
I want to take the food, I want her to talk to me. I think… I think I want her to hold me. I try to beg with my eyes for her to come over. I could never ask for it out loud but I want Her. I want Her to say that everything is alright. But instead she just sits on that stupid chair, reading that stupid book, and she barely even glances at me.