Chapter 17
A sense of lifting rouses me from a state so deep and dark, I can’t even fathom how much time has gone by. They could say it’s been a week, and I’ll believe it. Every part of my body aches, so sore I try not to move at all. I groan, feeling my feet, arms, jaw and ass all cry out together in pure agony.
I’ve languished in a state of semi-consciousness for hours and hours. My stomach rumbles. If only I could sleep, maybe I’d have passed some of the time easily, but I’m in too much discomfort. For all the awful conditions of this prison, it occurs to me that we still sleep on mattresses — otherwise, maybe I’d be accustomed to resting in such harsh circumstances.
When I finally open my eyes, the box has nearly risen to the top. Blinking clears my vision but not my drowsiness. Through the slats in the door, I can see Reed waiting patiently as the box stops. As soon as he opens it I pitch over, unable to stand another second. He catches me and immediately sets to work freeing me, starting with the gag in my mouth. My moans grow to screams as he loosens the belts and my body feels like it’s coming back to life. White imprints across my skin indicate where the straps squeezed my limbs for… I wouldn’t even want to guess.
“How… long…”
Speaking hurts, each word raking fire in my throat.
“Almost a day,” Reed whispers. “Did you hear the one about George Washington’s pet iguana?”
Okay, I’ve definitely lost my mind. “What?”
Without warning, Reed reaches behind me and pulls the plug out of my ass. He goes slow enough that the toy slides smoothly, but fast enough so it’s over quickly. I howl at the fresh pain, but then I feel relief, glad to have the phallus out at long last.
“Had to rip off the bandage,” he says, setting the plug aside. “Thought a distraction might help.”
“Thanks,” I grumble.
Reed tries setting me down, but my legs crumple like matchsticks, so he picks me up instead. Cradling me in his arms, he walks us out, and I sigh happily, glad to be finished with that room. I can see why the locker is such an effective punishment — just an hour or two would be enough to make anyone succumb to despair. If one didn’t have much hope when they went in, they’re not going to have any coming out. Thankfully, I had powerful motivators keeping me going: revenge and Reed.
Even though my body’s still sore, and his grip hurts, I enjoy being in his embrace. He’s so strong, his arms so thick with muscle, I feel like he could effortlessly hold me like this forever. The gentle rhythm of his pace rocks me gently, lulling me into unconsciousness.
I wake as Reed sets me down. We’re in my prison cell, and I’m on the cot. There’s a fold-out tray table in front of me with a bowl, a glass of water, a gallon jar of milk and a family-sized box of Corn Flakes. I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my life, though I can’t imagine having to move. To my relief, Reed holds the glass up so I can drink, being careful not to give me too much too quickly. When I’ve finished, he pours the cereal and milk, then sits me up so he can spoon feed me.
We don’t speak. I hold back any sense of pleasure or satisfaction from eating. Though I can’t hear anyone else stirring, some of the women have to be awake and listening. Likewise, the other guards are definitely watching us on the security camera. Is Jefferson still here, or has he crawled back to whatever pit he came from?
“Can you eat more?” Reed asks when I finish the bowl. “You’re going to need your strength tomorrow.”
I nod, wanting to ask what he means. Am I going back to work sewing, or is Reed going to make good on Byron’s threat?
After polishing off my third bowl, some strength returns to my muscles. I contemplate making a break from my cell, just to show our observers that I’ll fight at every opportunity, no matter what, but attempting to stand makes the world whirl like a top.
“Unbelievable,” Reed mutters, pushing me down onto the cot and spreading my limbs. “I can’t take my eyes off you for two fucking seconds.” He pulls four pairs of handcuffs from his pocket. He cuffs my wrist, then fastens the other end to a bar on the underside of my cot. In less than a minute, he binds my other arm and both legs, leaving me once again restrained. I think my relative freedom lasted less than fifteen minutes. Then again, I doubt I could move much yet even if I wasn’t bound.
Reed tests my cuffs to make sure they’re secure, then picks up the tray. He leaves without another word, not even bothering to shut the door to my prison cell. I suppose in my current state there’s not much need.
I watch him go, listening for his footsteps to fade, then shut my eyes. Too exhausted to even think, I pass out within seconds.
—
Something stings my face badly, a hard slap that wakes me from a deep sleep. I expected to be in pain the following morning, considering all the soreness still in my body, but not this: Jacqueline and Amber stand over me, still in my cell. When I turn, I see all the other women are outside watching. Fueled by impotent rage, they look ready to erupt.
“Morning, sunshine,” Jacqueline taunts, balling a fist. “You feeling okay? We heard you went to the locker.”
“Yeah,” I reply. “I’ll be fi-”
Jacqueline interrupts me with another slap.
“What the fuck is this?” I ask, trying not to struggle against my cuffs. Did Reed set this whole thing up, leaving me restrained and my cell’s door wide open? I have to assume so. This is what Byron warned me would happen, and I’m sure it’s just the beginning.
“While you were safe and secure in a box, Byron and the judge spent the day giving us hell,” Jacqueline explains. She turns around and lowers her pants just enough to show me her ass, which is covered in bruises. At the same time, Amber and all the other inmates turn and do the same, showing that each and every one of them received the same punishment.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “But I had no choice. We have to fight them. We have to-”
Slapping me again, Jacqueline screams, “Shut up, you selfish cunt!”
Her voice rings out through the cell block, startling everyone.
“That’s just us — you see Laura or Christine anywhere? No. They’re in medical, dosed on all sorts of shit, thanks to that judge. He went at them all day, taking out his anger. And Hayden? She’s gone. Mr. R. took her because you got him in the mood. Don’t you get it, Quinn? Every time you fight, we suffer,” she says, holding her hands over my mouth. “You know what will happen to us, but you don’t care at all.”
I try shaking my head free, to protest, That’s not true! Of course I care, and I’m horrified about what happened. They need to know I’m not trying to hurt them, but Jacqueline doesn’t let go.
“We’re so sick of taking beatings because of you. Things were bad enough before you showed up, and you’ve only made it worse. Don’t you think we’ve tried to escape? We have nothing in here but time, but no matter what we come up with, it doesn’t work. Prescott owns a dozen prisons — they’ve seen everything imaginable. There is nothing we can do!”
Jacqueline lets go of me when she finishes. She wipes away a tear running down her cheek.
“You’re wrong,” I say. “You can’t give up. There are so many more of us than them! We can win if we join together.”
She grunts a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re so fucking naive. I once saw a group of girls try to jump the guards and take over. They were overwhelmed in less than a minute. Byron locked all of us in our cells for three days without food or water, just to make a fucking point. It took weeks for them to start feeding us regular portions again, and that was mostly because sponsors were coming and they wanted us to look healthy. That’s what you’re up against, Quinn! We’ve got nothing to fight with! They watch us all the time. They’re listening now. We can’t beat them.”
I’m the one crying this time when Jacqueline falls silent.
“I’ve only been at Walker a few weeks,” I say, looking around at everyone. “Some of you have been here for years. I can’t even imagine your despair. I feel for you, really. But that only makes it more important that we find a way to beat these fuckers — so that no one else has to suffer as you have. If we don’t, how can we live with ourselves?”
“In as little pain as possible,” Jacqueline snarls, driving her fist into my stomach.
I cough and writhe, stunned by the sudden shot.
“From now on, whenever one of us suffers because of you, I’m going to make sure you get it back in triple,” she says. Pointing to the security camera, she adds, “They’re going to let me, you understand? They’re going to let all of us take out our rage on you. It’ll be nice to dish it out for once. We’re looking forward to it. So remember that next time you try and pull some shit.”
As if to prove her point, Jacqueline jabs her fist into my side, sending spasms of pain arcing through my body. She pounds the spot a few more times, her teeth gritted in determination.
“Fuck you, bitch!” I shout, trying to twist away from her fist.
Jacqueline chuckles. “Hey, Amber, come here. Show Quinn we’re not fucking around.”
“I think she’s got it,” Amber replies, opting to look away.
“Bullshit. You’ve gotten it worse than any of us. Do it.”
Amber steps over, her stride noticeably pained. Her lip trembles as she stands over my cot, then she gives my cheek a soft slap. Lacking any serious conviction, I barely feel it glance off my cheek. As soon as it’s over, she hustles out, facing the floor and rubbing her forearm with her hand.
“Lame,” Jacqueline calls out after her. “You’d think she’d know how a real slap feels by now.” She swings her arm, delivering a hard smack to the spot Amber barely brushed.
This time I howl, thrashing against my cuffs. “Fuck you, Ja-”
Before I can say her name, Jacqueline punches me in the side again, knocking the wind from my lungs. I cough, trying to breathe, but I can barely pull in any air.
“Try that again,” Jacqueline growls, pulling her arm back for another punch.
“Enough!”
We all turn to see Reed pushing his way through the crowd, cattle prod in hand. “You’ve had your fun, bitch. Everyone get in line for the shower.”
I want to thank him as he unlocks all my cuffs, but I don’t dare. He grabs my wrist and yanks me to my feet, then pushes me out of my cell and toward the other girls. Walking again feels good, though my muscles throb angrily. For once, an icy shower doesn’t sound so bad. Frankly, considering I spent a day sweating in a box, I could use it.
Reed, Corbin and Edwin pay extra close attention during cleaning. I keep my gaze trained on Jacqueline, as if to say, You’re not sneaking up on me, bitch. The water soothes my aches and fills me with an energy I’ve never felt before. I’ve survived my time in the locker, I’ve taken the brunt of Jacqueline’s fury — and Reed is close by, keeping an eye on all of us. Maybe I should be numb with self-pity, but my heart pumps frozen blood through my veins. I’m ready to keep fighting.
Ravenous and impatient, I shovel down my cereal. I have to wait for the others to empty their bowls before we can make our way to the workshop, and I could really go for seconds, but I think better of asking.
After breakfast, we all get up for our march to the workshop. “Hold on, Harris,” Reed says, approaching me. He’s got something in his hand, a black bulb of some kind. “Hands on your head.”
I comply, though I ask, “What’s that?”
He says nothing, reaching into my pants, pressing the cool orb against my skin. I gasp as his hands move between my legs, finding my lips. Rubbing the object across them, I feel its smooth surface and the warmth of his fingers, and my juices begin to gather. He adds some pressure to his touch, slipping the device into my dampening entrance. As soon as it’s in, he pulls his hand out and slaps my ass again. “Go.”
When I reach the workshop, it feels like weeks since I was last here. Walking to my seat with a toy in my pussy produces an odd, but pleasurable sensation — though I have to wonder what I’m missing. If this is some kind of punishment, it doesn’t strike me as a very harsh one.
Then the work begins, and the old routines come back. Throwing all my pent-up energy into the sewing, I promise myself we’re making quota today; the girls aren’t going to get punished on my behalf. Looking around, I can tell the others are uncomfortable, seated on ravaged backsides. My ass hurts too, still sore from keeping in that plug for so long. The toy in my pussy makes me fidget a little, but mostly I can ignore it.
At least, that is until it starts to vibrate.
I knew it! I think to myself, letting out a short gasp. Stirring in my seat from the waves of warmth spreading through my body, I try focusing on my work.
It’s fine, Quinn. You can do this.
Scanning the room, I see no one is paying me any attention. The device makes no noise, and as long as I keep sewing, no one will be the wiser. It’s a pretty good plan, and for a while it succeeds: I finish a half dozen shirts, doing my best to keep my breathing calm and level.
However, my plan falters when the toy’s vibrations start intensifying. Panting and trembling, I try to ignore the pleasure surging from my core, but it’s overwhelming. Before I know it, I lose my concentration, wrapped up in bliss, and foul up a shirt, sewing a seam so crookedly it looks like a mountain range.
“Quinn, what the fuck?” shouts Jacqueline.
Shook from my trance, I look up at her, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, it’s… it’s not my fault.”
“What are you talking about?”
I don’t want to tell her about the device; it’s too humiliating.
“I’m… I’ve got a… oh shit!”
The vibrations get even more powerful as I speak, and I can’t help turning to Reed. He pretended not to know my condition before, but now he’s watching me, not even concealing an amused grin.
“Is something wrong, Harris?” he asks, sauntering over. “You were doing just fine a minute ago.”
“It’s nothing,” I reply, grabbing more fabric so I can get back to work. “I’m fine.”
He winks and pats my shoulder. “Then watch what you’re doing.”
Grumbling, I obey. I know Reed is doing what he has to for both our sake, but does he have to be enjoying himself so much?
Sweat drips down my brow as I work, and occasionally I can’t help moaning. When I do, I hear snickers from the other women. They must have some idea about what’s happening to me. In fact, they probably know exactly what’s going on.
As far as punishments go, this one isn’t painful, but it is extremely frustrating. I have to slow down my sewing to make sure I don’t ruin another shirt, but if I don’t get enough done and we miss the quota, everyone’s going to blame me. Also, it’s one thing to get whipped in front of the entire prison — I’ve had that happen more times than I can count; to be this close to orgasm, unable to control my arousal and need for relief while everyone watches — I feel like an animal at the zoo. When I look around, none of the women seem sorry for me; despite everything I’ve been through, seeing them laugh at my predicament still hurts.
Forced to press on, I keep working. When I finally finish a shirt, I allow myself a second to relax. I realize immediately that was a mistake, as an orgasm I hadn’t known I was holding back erupts. Rocked by bliss, I bend over to cover my mouth, trying to suppress my deep groans. Squirming and bucking, I try shifting my thighs to somehow escape the powerful, unflagging sensation in my pussy, but the device refuses to turn off. By now everyone must be watching, but I can’t stop. I scream into my palms, quivering with euphoria until I’ve expended every last drop of energy.
Finally, the toy stops. I lay my head against the table, trying to catch my breath, exhausted from the experience.
“Harris!” Reed yells, startling me out of my afterglow. “Who said you could take a break?”
“Sorry,” I mutter, fumbling for more fabric.
However, before I can resume working, he strides over and grabs my wrists. “That’s too many interruptions,” he says, working me free of my handcuffs. “Take off your shirt.”
“What?”
“I can’t just give you a whipping. You enjoy it too much. Now do it.”
Scowling, I pull my top over my head, baring my breasts for all to see. Exposure to the cool air hardens my nipples, making them extra sensitive when Reed pinches them. I swipe at his hands, so he grabs my wrists and cuffs them back to my work table. Once I’m restrained, he squeezes my nipples again. The pain makes me wince, but like a whipping, I feel an intoxicating sense of relief when he lets go.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Quinn?” he asks.
“No.”
“Liar.”
Reed reaches into his pocket and retrieves a thin chain of some kind; about a foot long, it features two metal clasps at the ends. As I watch, he fastens the clamps on my nipples, producing a constant ache. He takes a moment to enjoy the site of the chain dangling between my breasts, unashamed of the tent rising in his pants.
“How’s that feel?”
“How do you think it feels? It hurts,” I reply, looking down at my chest.
He wraps a finger around the chain connecting the clamps, then gives a light tug. The pull elicits a fresh surge of pain in my breasts, causing me to squeal loudly.
“Oh, we can’t have that,” Reed taunts, grabbing a piece of fabric and holding it up to my mouth. I press my lips together and shrink away, prompting Reed to yank at my nipple clamps harder. It’s too much pain for me to take, so I relent, opening my mouth. He stuffs the fabric in, filling my mouth until my cheeks bulge outward.
He steps away, making me think he’s done, but after a minute he comes back with a roll of tape. Moaning into the cloth, I hold still while he wraps the tape around my mouth and the back of my neck, making several passes. When he finishes, the tape muffles my moans so much I can barely hear them. He takes a small remote control from his pocket and flips a switch, activating the toy still lodged in my pussy.
“Now get back to work,” he says, patting my head.
“Mmph!” I grunt at him.
Doing as I’m told, I start sewing, but now the task is far more difficult. Assailed by both pleasure and pain, I have to battle every second to stay focused. I can hear the guards laughing at my plight, watching me as much as they can during their patrols. I groan at the irony that right now I’m providing a serious distraction — if only the women had some escape plan to implement, now would be a pretty good time. I turn to Reed beseechingly, hoping he’ll spring into action while there’s an opportunity. Instead, he turns up the toy’s power, enhancing the vibrations until I’m again closing in on an orgasm.
Tears roll down my cheeks as I fight the pressure building up. I want to hold it back, to keep working and help us make quota, but there’s nothing I can do — it all feels too good and it won’t stop. Howling into my gag, I let it all out. Climaxing so hard I feel lightheaded, I strain against my bonds. Rocking my hips, I squeeze down on the vibrator, giving in to my carnal need. I don’t stop until I feel afloat, lost in subspace.
“Okay, Quinn, that’s enough,” Reed says, shutting off the device. I inhale through my nose deeply, trying to catch my breath, barely aware of him unlocking my handcuffs. When I look around, I see all the women and guards are watching us.
“You’re being too distracting,” Reed continues. “I’m going to have to take you somewhere private, somewhere you can be punished without threatening everyone’s productivity.”
I don’t protest as he locks my arms behind my back and marches me out, but I do give Jacqueline and Amber a look. I hope they don’t get disciplined for this, but if they do, I hope they understand that it’s not my fault. Otherwise, I’ll never get through to them, and I may as well give up trying.