I laugh, struck by the absurdity of the idea, but she’s right. What choice do I have? She doesn’t deserve this and, more importantly, she’s mine. Prescott’s not going to let me take her, though; it’s a problem I’ll have to solve. At least I have a few months to figure out how.
Quinn cracks a smile at my reaction. “Yeah, I’m asking a lot,” she says, looking down at herself. Nearly a dozen belts now encircle her body, limiting her movement to her fingers and neck. My cock should be harder than granite from the sight of her, even with smears of the judge’s blood still coating parts of her chest, arms and hands.
“I want to help you,” I say. “I’m going to. But it’s not going to be easy. The guards will be extra careful with you now, and they’ll be watching my every move. And if Jefferson comes back for you… He could come looking for payback at any time.”
“We’ll figure it out,” she replies.
“I hope you’re right. For now, I’ve got to keep you locked up and in pain until everyone calms down.”
Quinn nods, hanging her jaw slightly. “How long is that going to take?”
“Hours.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah. And, there’s more.”
I slide open the door to another cabinet, revealing several dozen cubby-holes. Every time I look at it, I’m reminded of a bowling alley, as about half of the cabinet is full of shoes. I find the tape withQuinnwritten on it and retrieve her white sneakers and a pair of socks.
“Are those mine?” asks Quinn. “Why are they here?”
“This is the only place in the building where you’d need them.” Lifting one foot at a time, I slip on the socks, then her shoes. The laces have been removed, so there’s no way to tie them, but that doesn’t matter. “You’re going to be standing for a long time.”
“Thanks,” she says. “It’s nice to wear something of mine again.”
I guess in her situation, you find whatever silver lining you can. Considering what she’s about to endure, she’s keeping her morale up quite remarkably. I can almost imagine doing something like this to her just for our enjoyment.
However, there’s one more piece to this picture, and it’s probably not going to be her favorite. Shutting the cabinet with the shoes, I turn to the small assortment of sex toys that have been put aside. I can guess what Jefferson would want, so I pick out a buttplug. Thick and long, it’ll be a constant, uncomfortable reminder of her helplessness.
“Seriously?” she says as I cover the toy with oil.
“Yes. And you’re going to try very, very hard to keep it in. If it falls out before I come get you, you’re going back down for a while longer.”
Quinn groans, her cheeks flushing. Does this actually excite her? Fucking unbelievable. I spread her ass and apply some more lube to her tight, clenched hole. She yelps when she feels the cool liquid, tensing up even more.
“This will be worse if you don’t relax.”
Mewling, she tries to open up, but she’s clearly still hesitant. I press the tip of the plug to her bud, applying light pressure.
“Relax,” I repeat.
She does, sensing that I’ll be patient, but I won’t relent. Gradually I ease the plug in deeper, giving her time to adjust to its size. I doubt she’s ever been penetrated in this way before, and it no doubt hurts. Still, she voices no complaint as I urge the toy in all the way. Quinn gasps as it sinks in, the toy’s flared base stopping it from going any further.
“Good,” I say, giving her ass a slap. She growls, writhing and shivering in her bonds. I open the door to the locker, swinging the heavy metal panel wide. “Little steps,” I tell Quinn, helping move her backward. Inch by inch she progresses, cringing and moaning as each motion jostles her plug.
When she’s finally inside, she asks, “Can you do me a favor?”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t let them hurt any of the other girls because of what I did today. Tell them to punish me instead. I’m sick of them paying for my actions.”
I sigh, rage bubbling in my gut. “That’s the point, Quinn. They know you care what happens to the other girls. That’s why we’ve used it against you. I can’t get them to stop.”
“I have to get the other girls on our side,” she argues.
Our side.Is that what’s happening now? Us versus them? That’s how it used to be, but it meant me, Prescott and Byron against women who have killed men or destroyed their lives. Am I not with them anymore? Do I have to choose between them and Quinn? She’s supposed to be a special case. I’ve worked at Walker for years because I believed in it — that hasn’t changed.
“You’re going to have to figure that out yourself. Maybe while you’re down there you can think of a way. See you later, Quinn.”