The Facility

by Amy Yao

  "Now, I'm just going to go get your file and check to see what your husband has selected for you. Don't move," she said with a quick wag of her finger, as though Erika had any choice in the matter.

  Left alone, Erika didn't know what to do.

  She had some time. She was alone. Maybe this would be her opportunity.

  Yeah, right. She was certain whoever designed this place had done an excellent job, so it wasn't like she would be able to overcome the circuitry in her collar. Even so, Erika remembered the point that it wasn't going to cost her anything to try. It's not like they punished her for disobedience. The idea probably never even occurred to them, considering that disobedience was functionally impossible.

  Erika lowered her eyes as she looked down at her hands. Currently, she was seated in the stylist chair, her wrists set against the squishy armrests. It was a nice seat. Under normal circumstances, Erika might have even enjoyed coming to a place like this.

  But right then and right there, she just wanted to move.

  She could do it.

  Erika blinked once, and she kept her eyes closed. Then she tried to flex her fingers. Nothing happened.

  She thought about her husband, and she tried to get angry. She wanted to feel the adrenaline speed through her blood. She needed that heat, that raw aggression. She yearned for the desire to smash something.

  None of that happened either.

  Finally, she opened her eyes, almost as though she had been prompted by the collar. And she looked down at her fingers, and she instead focused on the arousal running through her body. She thought of her husband again. But now, he would be on top of her, and her legs would be spread.

  The arousal started to dance through her skin, emanating out from that spot right between her inner thighs.

  And then she saw something, a little twitch of her fingers. Had it been some sort of optical illusion? Maybe she imagined it?

  No, Erika didn't think so. The more she considered this, the more she came to the conclusion that she really had made her fingers move.

  Behind her, she could hear the other stylists talking. Candy was saying something about how she had a new girl to help.

  Erika didn't know if there is some kind of connection, but she decided to focus. She thought about her husband again, his thick cock pushing down into her. Suddenly, she really could move her fingers. She watched, delighted to see them play along the armrests. They tapped down, an easy beat.

  Erika could do this.

  Gulping, she concentrated. She thought more and more of her husband. Her face started to flush. A different kind of adrenaline started to shoot into her limbs.

  She wiggled her toes. She flexed her feet.

  All at once, Erika realized that she could move.

  Candy's voice seemed to be pretty far away.

  This was it, her moment. Erika didn't know if she would get another chance, so she pushed her hands down against the arm rest. It felt a little bit like shoving her way through molasses or oil. But she was moving. She was moving under her own power!

  Erika started to walk. She turned toward the main entrance, and she kept her head down.

  Rather than run, she took her time, almost as though this was somehow to be expected.

  The receptionist asked her a question. Erika didn't listen. She didn't react either. Instead, she kept her gaze aimed straight ahead.

  While she tried to appear nonchalant, she also seemed entranced, just like before. This was an unintentional side effect. Soon, she was back out on the Promenade.

  Rather than look around, Erika started walking, moving quickly. Her shoes clicked against of the floor, and she kept wondering if anyone was going to notice her. But more and more, she realized that she had done it. She had gotten away. She cleared a hundred yards, maybe two. Up ahead, she saw the entrance back into the main building.

  And then a thought occurred to her. Where was she going? What was she going to do?

  Her husband had brought her here, but Erika wanted to believe he would speak to her.

  More than that, she wanted to see him so that she could pull down her panties, bend over, and feel his cock again.

  Damn it. Yes, arousal seemed to free her from the effects of the collar, but it also made it harder to think.

  "Excuse me, Miss, are you on your own?"

  Erika heard that voice, and she instantly made the mistake of turning. Why would she? She was used to feeling comfortable out in public. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't have been treated like a pet or a plaything, a slave who might need to be taken back into custody.

  In about a heartbeat, she realized all of these things applied to her now.

  And she saw a man in a suit. He had some kind of stick in his hand. Black and leather, it seemed more like a baton, but his thumb was pressed against a red button.

  All at once, Erika decided that she was going to run.

  She jumped forward, keeping her feet down against the marble floor. She dashed ahead, through a pair of doors and toward the elevator bank.

  "We have a runner," the security guard called out. Erika didn't know if he was talking to a cell phone or some kind of radio. Either way, it didn't make any difference to her. She had to get out of there!

  Erika may not have been able to generate any sort of anger, but she could certainly get scared. Anxiety gripped her, grabbing onto her heart, squeezing it. Extra energy seemed to flow into her arms and legs. She slashed her fingertips through the air as she sprinted hard. She was grateful that she wasn't wearing high heels. It was easy enough to run in her flats, but she probably would have preferred sneakers.

  Rather than try to take the elevator, she spotted the stairs. She burst through the door.

  "I've got her!" Another guy called out those words, just as Erika heard the door close behind her.

  She took the stairs, jumping two at a time. Pretty soon, her thighs burned. It felt like she was getting jabbed in the side, but she didn't give up. Erika had run long-distance track back in high school. Maybe she was out of practice, but she focused.

  If she could get to David, maybe they could talk about this. Maybe they could have a serious conversation, and he would take her out of here.

  What would happen after that?

  Because he gave her something to focus on as she ran the stairs, Erika made a vow. She was going to manipulate her husband. She would lie to him, trick him into thinking that she would be a good girl. She had learned her lesson, so she would be an obedient, diligent wife. She would put all of his needs first. The second they got back to the United States, she would divorce him. Hell, she might even call the police.

  Those thoughts made it easier to run, to ignore the fatigue gripping her extremities.

  Erika jumped up onto the next landing, and she stopped for a moment. As her lungs pumped, clenching the air tightening her body, she looked upward. This building seemed to go on forever.

  She tried to remember exactly where their room was. Which floor?

  Shaking her head, she decided that she could hide and try to figure it out later.

  More importantly, security knew that she was somewhere in the stairwell. So she pushed through the next door, and she found herself in some kind of lobby. There were chairs all around.

  Erika glanced over, and she saw a woman with bright blonde hair smiling and twirling her hair even as she kneeled before her husband. He was busy, playing on his phone.

  All at once, Erika saw that woman, and she couldn't help but think she was some sort of bimbo, a dumb female who couldn't possibly think for herself.

  It was a cruel thought, but Erika figured girls like that probably deserved a place like this. Fine. If they were going to be dumb and couldn't think for themselves, then they would probably be fine with enslavement. But that wasn't Erika. She was better than that!

  Resisting the urge to run, Erika tried to even out her features. She couldn't look scared or nervous. If she did, then someone might think that she was up to so
mething.

  Could she ask for help?

  It was an audacious move, but Erika decided that yes, she could. Down the hallway, near another set of chairs, Erika spotted a young woman who looked like a receptionist. She was typing away on a computer.

  Erika could say that she had gotten lost, that she wanted to find her husband. If she sounded appropriately demure, then maybe she could get the help she needed. Then she could find David, and this whole thing could be over.

  "Excuse me?" As Erika spoke, she desperately hoped that she didn't seem too disoriented. Her heart kept pounding, and she had to fight to appear calm in front of this young woman.

  The receptionist glanced up from her computer. "How can I help you?"

  Erika blinked a couple of times, batting her eyes. She tried to appear disoriented and confused. She wanted to look like some idiot bimbo, the kind of girl who could definitely get lost in a paper bag. "My name is Erika, and I seem to of lost my husband, David. Can you help me find him? I don't remember what room we are staying in." Without even thinking about it, Erika raised the pitch of her voice, making herself sound breathy and almost childlike.

  Under any other circumstance, Erika would have hated herself for doing this. But then, down along lobby way, she spotted a security guy. This one wore black shades, the same requisite suit. He carried the baton in his hand.

  Erika didn't think she would really get hit with it. After all, she was a guest. Even so, these men had no trouble intimidating her.

  "Okay. Let me just take a look," said the girl.

  The young woman tapped, her long fingernails clicking against the keys.

  As she waited, Erika wanted to ask so many different questions. More than anything, she wanted to sit down with one of these women and try to figure out how this whole place worked. After all, Erika kept encountering one woman after another who seemed content with the system here. They were all happy with The Facility. How did that work?

  What kind of woman would support this?

  Of course, Erika kept those questions to herself. She wasn't about to risk exposure.

  "Oh, here you are," the woman said. Erika waited, expecting to hear a report. What floor was she supposed to be standing on? What room was she supposed to be staying in?

  "It seems you've been misbehaving. Apparently, you're supposed to be in The Salon," said the girl.

  That's when Erika looked to her left, and she saw the security guard, only now his shaded eyes were pointed right at her.

  Granted, Erika couldn't be certain, but she knew that he was looking at her. She knew that he understood he had his target.

  "Please," Erika said.

  The girl looked up from the screen. "You've been a bad girl. You need to be punished."

  The color drained away from Erika's face, and she burst into another run. But by this point, she was tired. Her legs practically shook as she dashed forward.

  The security guard, on the other hand was fresh. As the air-conditioned atmosphere brushed along her face, Erika picked up speed. She didn't do it fast enough. She couldn't move quickly enough. The guy behind her ran hard, practically stomping his feet behind her.

  Then she felt it.

  One poke.

  The guard reached out, pushing the tip of the baton forward. Erika barely registered the sensation through her shirt. But then, he hit a button on the side. And that's when the battery discharged, shooting electricity straight into her body.

  Everything turned to agony. Then nothing.

  The scent of strawberry filled her nostrils. Erika wrinkled her nose as she sniffed a couple of times. As awareness returned, she flinched for a second, just remembering that burst of pain.

  Like everyone else, she had been shocked once or twice in her life. Maybe she had touched a live wire by accident, or static electricity popped against her fingertips. That happened between her and David, sometimes. Especially when they first got together, they would be making out on their couch, and then they would rub up against the fabric little bit too much. They would kiss, and there'd be the snapping pop between their lips. It always made them laugh, though it did sting a tiny bit.

  Erika pushed those thoughts aside as she struggled to regain control of her body. She had to focus. She had to think. Inhaling, she forced her eyes open just as she registered something else.

  The scent of strawberries. Her mouth started to water even as she looked around.

  Erika was on her stomach, leaning downward slightly. Her pants had been removed. She could feel the cool air brush along her skin, causing little bumps to appear over her thighs.

  Feeling helpless, she tried to sit up, to move. Her arms and legs were spread. She was helpless right here because white, leather straps encircled her wrists and ankles.

  Erika pulled against them right away, thinking that she was just going to slip free. Yeah, right. The Facility employees knew exactly how to restrain a reticent young woman. If she thought she was going anywhere, then she was wrong.

  Erika turned her head to the other side, surprised to realize that David was standing right there.

  "Erika," he said as a way of introduction.

  His wife licked her lips, wondering exactly what she was supposed to say.

  Before she could speak, he lifted a finger. Strangely enough, she got quiet. "So, they tell me that you couldn't behave yourself. Even with that collar, you decided that you're going to try to run off."

  "Yeah, I know," she said, doing her best to sound frightened. "But I was going to look for you!" Eyes wide and wet, she looked back to her husband, hoping that she seemed pathetic and in need of protection. Erika wasn't a fool; she knew that when lots of guys see women in distress, they want to help. After years of social programming, they want to be that knight in shining armor.

  Unfortunately for her, David knew his wife well enough to understand when he was being manipulated.

  "No, you were trying to figure a way out of here."

  Erika didn't know if she should disagree with him or not. She didn't know if she was supposed to argue or not.

  "Please, just let me up. We can talk about this."

  "No, we aren't going to talk about this."

  "What?"

  "Erika, I've been thinking about us a lot lately. The more I think about our relationship, the more I come to one conclusion." He paused, waiting.

  Understanding that she had to say something, Erika finally broke the silence. "What have you concluded?" It seemed absurd. She was strapped down, half naked, her ass on display, and yet they were talking about this like everything was somehow normal.

  No, Erika shook her head. This would never be normal. That was another promise she made herself. She hoped it wouldn't be broken, like all of the others.

  "I have concluded that you are a brat. You are manipulative girl, and I really can't trust anything you do or say. All those times you said you loved me, I'm not so sure."

  "You're wrong," she sneered.

  "Am I?" He reached over, stroking his fingertips along the back of her thigh, up her ass, higher toward the small of her back. Then he stroked her hair, teasing her.

  "Erika, I don't think you are capable of being happy with anyone. I think you are just a selfish brat."

  "You're wrong. And you can't keep me like this. This is completely illegal!"

  "No, it's not. We have all of the requisite paperwork."

  Her lips parted. She didn't want to believe that, but when she considered the amount of money that went into this place, she could easily picture corrupt lawyers, judges, and other officials signing off on whatever the owners wanted.

  There was probably even a fake contract somewhere, one saying that she wanted to be trained, one that she wanted to be controlled and domesticated, even if she appeared to be "held against her will." The thought should have made her angry.

  It didn't.

  She still had that leather collar around her neck.

  Somehow, the device still blocked her anger.

>   Not only that, Erika was fairly certain that her husband would be holding onto the controller. Apparently, it could keep her calm. Worse, it was capable of entrancing her. What else could it do?

  Erika didn't want to know.

  "I've been talking to Miranda, and we've come to a conclusion. Since you tried to run away, you need to be punished."

  "What are you going to do? Spank me?"

  "That's going to be the start of it. And then I'm going to do something with you that I've wanted to do for a very, very long time."

  As he spoke those words, he squeezed her ass again.

  All of a sudden, she understood exactly what he intended.

  He was going to take her from behind. He was going to slide his cock deep into her tight little ass, plunging forward and savoring the heat of her body.

  "No. Don't you do it. Don't you dare!"

  He chuckled. The sound was low, almost dangerous.

  "Erika, this is going to be good for you. You need to lose control. You need to understand just how good it is for you to be helpless."

  "Is that what that bitch of a counselor told you?"

  "Don't be rude," he chided.

  Her eyes widened. But this felt more like a practiced response. She was supposed to be angry, so she acted like she was.

  "Don't worry. I'm going to spank you and you're going to like it."

  “No way. You’re crazy!” Erika practically growled those words, she was just some animal. In response, David reached down, and he began to stroke her skin. His fingers pranced over her body.

  Erika did her best to resist. Oh, and she tried as arousal started to play over her skin. More. She wanted more.

  This was familiar. Erika took a long, slow breath. She told herself that she wasn’t going fight it. She wasn’t going to resist the restraints, because she already knew that she would fail. It was inevitable, so Eric simply needed to remain stoic and placid, like none of this really mattered.

  Then came the inevitable moment.

  David cocked his arm back, and he savored the moment even as Erika dreaded it. His arm came down hard, his hand arching with the curve. This jolt of sensation rocketed through her. Yes, there was pain, but something else seemed to lace through that sensation.