Condemned to Slavery (19 page)

This new section of the prison was dark and moody, the lights rare and the passages even more decrepit than usual. A door was thrown open and Lydia was moved inside with a shove to her back as the guards followed after her.

Stepping into the blackness she looked around, trying to distinguish what awaited her here. Could it possibly be that she was being released? Had something changed in her situation and prompted the end of her confinement in the box, and perhaps a culmination to her unjust sentence? She hoped so with all her heart.

The fetus of this prayer perished in her chest as the light was switched on, the dim bulb revealing a small, low ceilinged box room with the skeletal metal frame of a double bed bolted upright across the far wall. Dense wire mesh filled the interior and was fixed to the rust flecked frame with stout springs, stretching it taut. The only other furnishings were a rough cupboard, a table in the very center of the chamber, and a roll of chicken wire leant in the corner.

Gloved hands snapped a handcuff to each wrist and used the silvery shackles as reigns to draw her towards the bed, overcoming her trepidation with brute force.

Maybe she should resist them, but this would only have her punished and then they would do whatever they intended anyway. No, it was far simpler to just comply, her education in being a prisoner one she had gathered through the agonies of her mistakes.

Presented to the bed, her back was put to the cold steel wire and her arms lifted up and spread so they could be locked to each overhead bedpost. The roll of fencing was taken up and together the men unfurled the rigid sheet, placing it up to her body before turning to the cupboard to gather bags of small metal clips.

With one on each side they held the chicken wire so that it covered the bed like a sheet, the dimensions of the metal blanket identical to those of the bed. Then the man on her left began to apply the clips down the vertical side, locking one end of the wire to the bed before moving over to join his partner. The bulge of Lydia’s body had drawn back the fence, and together the guards hauled at it, squashing her between the two sheets as they sandwiched her and began to clip the two halves together, sealing her within the stifling embrace. Their muscles rippled with effort as they leant their brawn to the task, wringing her in the perforated steel jaws of wire.

The steel fishnet was pressed firmly to her flesh, the skin of her breasts, thighs and face squeezed up into flushed mounds through the diamond vents in the intricate weave.

Having completed their task, the two guards checked over their toil and made sure she was secure before leaving their handcuff keys on the table and then vacating the room.

As soon as the door closed, Lydia began to struggle against her bondage, trying to find a way to get out of the painful grip, every move of her bound frame making the wires grate terribly against her, their rough and crude construction leaving many sharp edges and pointed ends.

Eventually she was forced to give up, her efforts having done nothing save leave her skin chafed and her body laced with fatigue and numerous shallow scratches from her tiny shuffling movements within the cage.

The door swung open and unveiled the unforgiving countenance of Warden Folter. The woman was dressed in her usual uniform, the Lycra top catching the feeble light and the shadows of the overhead bulb leaving a shadow beneath her peaked cap to hide her piercing eyes. The mere sight of the woman terrified Lydia, for she knew how much the tyrant valued sadism after having seen her brandishing both the crop in her office and the whip at the dreadful gallows.

The door was closed and Lydia watched in silence as the tall female rummaged in the cupboard and then brought out a car battery, the cube cradled in her hands, a mesh of leads entwined about it.

Setting the store of energy at Lydia’s feet, crocodile clips ran forth from a gray plastic box atop the modified battery and were snapped onto the awaiting strings of wire, touching both layers and declaring the Warden’s intent to electrocute her captive.

Lydia’s breath devolved into shaky gasps as the process of preparation continued, her mind weak and numb, unable to think of any coherent words to say, her will to dissent and rebellion long crushed.

A fist sized control box was slipped from the source of the leads, the small dial and single button upon it clearly to be the source of all Lydia’s woe.

Unraveling the slender cable that connected to the control, the Warden backed up and sat down upon the table, crossing her legs and taking a loose grip upon the device. Her leather-clad thumb idly brushed the innocuous red tab, her boots twinkling in the light, her wicked glare hidden in darkness, her chest heaving against the Lycra with an excited rate, making the refractions upon the shimmering fabric ripple.

“The time you have spent here has been a valid explanation of what the rest of your life will be like unless you choose to cooperate, six one nine two. Do you want to remain an inmate of this facility?”

Lydia tried to shake her head with solemn defeat, but the wire held her in too firm a clinch to permit such a display, making her announce her denial, to which the Warden gave a slim smile.

“Then all you need do is tell me who your contact is, and where we may find this individual,” she offered pleasantly, causing Lydia to close her eyes as her heart sank. They would never let her leave their clutches until she had disclosed the information she did not bear, nor could ever provide. They would torture and confine her for the rest of her life and there was no means to gain a reprieve.

Sobbing uncontrollably, imploring the Warden to be believed, Lydia wept her excuses.

“I swear I don’t know. I’m just a tourist. We stopped here for a few minutes. I just took some lousy pictures to prove I was here, to show what it was like. I haven’t done anything wrong. Please believe me, I am not a spy. Contact my family, my friends, anyone, they will all tell you I’m just a bloody computer programmer.”

“I can see why others have been fooled by your deception. You give a convincing act, but I am here to gain a name and location, not your convoluted lies,” announced the Warden, lifting the control so that Lydia could see her thumb upon the button.

“I’m not lying! Please, for God’s sake believe me!” she yelled in fright.

The button gave a soft click and suddenly she was held between two metal hands of scintillating energy. Her body jumped to a fully tensed cruciform, her frame fighting the grapple of the wire, making her skin rise through the holes as it forced itself against it. A howl of agony spewed from her lips as she started to shake and haul at her confines, the lucid fangs of the voltage ripping through her helpless body while the Warden watched her with detached glee.

The attack ended and she slouched in the shell, her body quivering slightly from the aftermath of the initial shock.

“Speak, or I shall continue until you confess,” warned the woman, listening for a moment to Lydia’s dazzled panting before thumbing the button once more and returning her to the intolerable mounts of excruciating suffering that the battery so freely carried her to.

Shrieking and writhing, Lydia felt as though the infernal current were dissolving her, for each time the Warden blasted her with the offspring of the battery, more of her body was left numb and insensible, the areas lethargic and unwilling to respond to the commands of her shattered mind.

The session was repeated dozens of times for increasing duration’s and with a steady turn of the dial that increased the issue of the battery. The harrowing event continued without reprieve until she was simply hanging from her cuffs, unable to move, barely able to breath, her only periods of animation being when the battery gave her the power and vitality to dance for the Warden’s pleasure.

The touch of a gloved digit upon her arm drew away some of the haze and the lingering echo of her own screams. Opening a tear and sweat bleared eye she saw the Warden before her, tracing her upraised limb and then massaging her fingers onto the sweat she had scooped from Lydia’s fever-drenched frame.

Lydia’s hair hung in damp strands and her skin was sheathed in a thin sheen of dampness, her cold shivers causing the odd droplet to fall to the floor. The only true sensation she had was her heartbeat as it thumped weakly in her chest, thudding against her ribs and sending a ripple of her pulse through her mind so that each thud of the beleaguered organ rang in her ears like a dying drumbeat.

“All you have to do is give me one name, one address, and all this will be over. You could go home. Back to your own country. Wouldn’t you like that? To sleep in your own bed, surrounded by luxury. To eat properly. To see all those friends and relatives that care for you so much?” whispered the woman, the seductive litany making Lydia weep in longing, wishing this with all her soul. But she knew she couldn’t give the only key to grabbing this halcyon dream that didn’t actually exist in reality, but which was bliss compared to the horrors of her prison life.

Motivated only by her desires, she started to blubber names again, hoping to be believed, but they knew whom she was supposed to name, otherwise they would at least check. They wanted her to confirm the identity they sought, they believed she knew it, and they would do anything to get it. Would her accurate confession condemn a true covert agent? If she truly knew the name she would have surrendered it long ago, but the vital data was not hers to give and without it she was damned.

“Your stubbornness is remarkable, but futile,” sighed the Warden, and leant down to start removing the clips from the metal.

Closing her eyes to recover, she stiffened as she felt soft wet flesh touch her nipple. Jerking open her eyes, Lydia found the Warden leaning down, her lips grazing the teats as they pushed through the wire. Her breath quickened as she felt the delicate tickling lap of a tongue upon the points, and then some soft suckling hauls as the woman locked her mouth to them. The teats stiffened against the deft tongue and she detected the leather sheathed digits of the torturess running along the uneven plains of her form, traveling across alternating terrain’s of strangling wire and small fleshy hillocks, appraising Lydia’s physique as she remained in stringent bondage.

Lydia gave a soft wheeze of relief, only to have her belief that the torture was over crushed as the sharp fangs of the clips were sunk onto her actual flesh. She cried out as the brutal pinches fastened themselves to her inner thighs and aroused nipples, the ferocious compression of the tender flesh elevating the peak of mayhem they wrought. The clamps were going to be a harbinger of far worse anguish, the electrical flood now having unequaled opportunity to pour its virulent spawn directly into her.

“I offer you a chance at freedom again,” muttered the Warden, sitting back down and fixing her gaze to the approaching spectacle.

Lydia closed her eyes and clenched her teeth in reply.

The searing distress of the first application had been horrendous and she had thought nothing could have eclipsed it, but the ravaging of her body by direct current was greatly worse and her form seemed to vanish amidst incendiary doom as the voltage ripped into every fiber with meticulous zeal. Lydia screeched in inhuman tones, her body alive with an internal blast wave of agony, the points of pinched skin becoming the epicenters for quaking nightmare sessions of torment. The deadly grief was more intense than anything she could have predicted or endured. Her organs seemed to melt, her heart promised to explode from her chest, her lungs were aflame from her keening yowls, and all coherent thought vanished into a single spot of purest pain.

With the sudden flight of the voltage she was left in acute shock, unable to fathom the keen zenith of suffering she had somehow managed to survive. Burbling her words, unable to string together any shred of coherence she gibbered as the control was stroked once more.

Her blood curdling pitch again tore the quiet of the room, mesmerizing the evil Warden as the prisoner spasmed in her bondage, torn by atrocious torture. The diabolic overseer repeated the application numerous times, no longer for any interrogation purposes, for Lydia had long since been rendered incapable of speech or thought. Now the woman was continuing for her own diabolic amusement, her longing merely to see another suffer to such extremes.

Held within the arcs of savage lightning that played within her nerves, Lydia’s frozen scream remained as a petrified mask, her lungs having expelled all air but remaining unable to draw fresh breath for her pain demanded only her wails. Squeezing against the limits of her chest, her eyes flitted closed and rolled back, and with a rattling gurgle she fell silently into the arms of a faint, her body unable to tolerate anymore and finally deciding to detach itself from the abuse.

Chapter Sixteen

The stab of returning feeling to the pinches of flesh the clamps had used as points to inject their electrical punishment lifted her from the blank haze, leaving her to ponder just how long she had remained in dreamless coma, and whether her loss of consciousness would end the session.

The clips began to release the sheet of wire and as the roll came loose and the cuffs were unfastened, Lydia dropped to the floor with a bright clap, unable to even stand after her maltreatment.

Lying shivering upon the floor, Lydia listened through ringing ears and occasionally looked through hazy vision as the Warden removed a meter tall tube of concrete from within the cupboard and placed it in the gap between bed frame and wall. A coil of rope was threaded through the hollow center of the pipe and tied off, lassoing the weighty tube before the rest was cast over the thick pole that was the head of the grim bed.

Dragging this elevated rope outward she dropped it by Lydia and began to reaffix the chicken wire across the bed. Two strips of rope had nooses tied into their tips and the hoops were placed over Lydia’s slack neck and tightened.

Baffled as to what was occurring, Lydia was rolled over onto her front by the push of a boot and her hands cuffed behind her back before the other set were used to grab just above her elbows. Lydia mewled as the cuffs contorted her, her arms dragged back and rendered useless to her. The chain links were grabbed and used as a handhold to lift her to her feet, the tearing twist on her limbs making her comply with a scowling hiss.