“Several every year,” says Amber.
Fuck. “And you have an assembly for them every time?”
Amber nods.
“Hey,” growls Reed. “This isn’t a social hour.” He holds up three leather head harnesses, each of them featuring a large, square black panel. Matching rubber phalluses protrude from the panels. Seeing them, and knowing what they’re for, I can’t help feeling a surge of warmth between my legs. Now is not the time for it, but as Reed fixes the gag around my head, tightening each strap to secure the cock between my lips, I can’t help squirming with need.
“Oh, great,” Jacqueline grumbles. “Thanks a lot, Quinn,” she says as Reed finishes with me and gets to work on her.
Once he’s gagged her and Amber, Reed returns to me and yanks my hair back and whispers into my ear, “Behave.”
I grunt back at him, curling my tongue around the phallus, sick with desire. It’s fucked up, but I get it. After the hormonal roller coaster of a near-death experience, my body craves relief. Is it wrong that, even in circumstances like these, I’m willing to give in to my hunger? I could die any time — shouldn’t I try and enjoy myself, just in case? Or am I trying to justify revolting behavior?
Fuck this place and its mind games. I hope one day I get to see it burn to the ground.
“Good morning!” Byron calls out from the stage once all the prisoners are restrained in their seats. “I have an announcement, and I need you all to listen very carefully.”
We’re all already paying attention, but Byron pauses anyway, barely hiding his grin. It takes him a second to force it down and don a serious expression.
“As you know by now, the Walker Center has suffered a tragic loss. Our longtime security expert Corbin Kemp lost his life this week, murdered by one of our residents, Quinn Harris. This is a crime that must be punished, I’m sure we all agree. However, as we’ve discovered, Quinn is an utter freak when it comes to enjoying pain. Even if that weren’t the case, how could a few whippings be sufficient? Corbin deserves better than that. In the past, we tried appealing to Ms. Harris’ sense of fairness and decency, electing to discipline others for her infractions. That didn’t work either.”
Byron smiles at me, unable to contain his glee any longer.
“For the past forty-eight hours I’ve been trying to figure out, how can you punish someone who enjoys pain and has no consideration for anyone but herself?”
Fuck you, asshole! That couldn’t be further from the truth.
“Deliberating on the matter led down a lot of dead ends, but then I finally had an epiphany: what if Quinn gets off on pain because she feels she deserves it? What if there is some part of her that actually feels guilt for the crimes she commits and the pain she causes? Maybe if she were punished for things that aren’t her fault, that might affect her differently? And if not, perhaps there is too much of a good thing, and she can be broken down by enduring so much torture, it stops being fun.”
I force myself to grin as malevolently as Byron, but it’s a charade — I may like some pain, and I can put on a brave face through a lot, but there are limits.
“Not only does Corbin deserve some justice, so do all of you inmates who have born the brunt of Quinn’s disobedience. Therefore, from now on, Quinn will receive the punishment for all resident infractions.”
The announcement sends a brisk murmur through the audience. I turn to Jacqueline, who’s already looking back at me. Her lips are covered by the panel gag, but from her raised eyebrows I can tell she’s smiling. As if that isn’t clear enough, she winks at me.
“It’ll be up to all ofyouto determine how much punishment Quinn receives,” Byron continues, his enthusiasm growing. “As far as I’m concerned, there will be no limits to this decree — whatever happens, happens. I trust Reed will keep things from getting out of hand.”
“Yes, sir,” Reed agrees.
Well, shit.
“Good. Assembly dismissed,” Byron says, giving me one last leer before departing.
This is going to get bad fast. Forget all the other women here — if they don’t actively try to make my life miserable, Jacqueline will.
It doesn’t take long for this assumption to prove true. Once the guards get us to the workshop, Reed removes our gags and we get to work as normal. However, Jacqueline only finishes a single shirt before testing the new policy. Exaggerating a yawn, she rests her head on her table and shuts her eyes.
“Bitch!” Reed barks. “Get back to work!”
“Later,” she sighs, yawning again. “I’m tired.”
Reed launches into motion, charging at Jacqueline and brandishing his whip.
However, before he can reach her, I lift my cuffed hands as high as I can. “Hey, Reed! The bitch is tired. Let her rest.”
He stops mid-stride. “Fine. Quinn, on your feet.”
I knew it. Of course Jacqueline couldn’t wait five fucking minutes. But I suppose there’s no point in putting things off. Let the bitch have her fun. I’ll show her I can take it. They can force Reed to whip me all day long, I’ll take it. And I won’t blame them, and I won’t turn against them, no matter what. They’ve suffered unspeakable cruelty, and they haven’t had the pleasure of getting to kill one of their tormentors like I have. They need to feel what it’s like to dish some pain back, if vicariously. Maybe once they’ve had their fill, they’ll understand why I fight.