Captured by Charybdis

by Bruce McLachlan

  Secondary restraints were pulled out and caught her knees. Her arms were drawn over her head and bent over the headrest despite her efforts to struggle and stop the process. Leather bonds caught her biceps and wrists, keeping her limbs to this required position. All trace of freedom was slowly being gobbled up. She was losing portions of herself by the second, her body unable to even hamper its reduction to vulnerability.

  The last part of her confinement was the application of straps over her waist and forehead. The women pulled at the excess, tightening the leather strips with a creak of strain before they threaded them through and left her immobile.

  ‘Now, Miss Kraken, that was very impudent of you in there. Or was it? Did you enjoy your punishment? Was that what possessed you to be so disobedient?’ the ‘doctor’ accused, turning around and lacing his fingers, making sure the gloves were fully on. His voice was muffled slightly, but against the absolute silence she could hear all. The sound of three respirators operating slowly was the only answer, each of their breaths dragging through the layers of protection, purified by their passage.

  ‘Just a few routine checks and we’ll move onto something more interesting, Miss Kraken,’ he stated with mirth, mocking her plight as one of the women stroked her hair, seeking to calm her. ‘Now if you’ll just relax.’

  The pair of them stood by her head like guardians, watching the process with an all too apparent sense of familiarity. Had they gone through this demeaning rite as well? Were the two women some of those Mina had seen in the computer files? Were these previous recruits serving the needs of the Project?

  The steady intrusion of cold metal into her for an examination was an unpleasant though ordinary enough event. She was internally scrutinised and the apparatus holding her so rudely open was withdrawn and set aside.

  ‘Bring me the enema,’ he ordered, his blind stare fixated upon Mina’s abdomen, the naked skin held down tightly by his will, defenceless to him.

  The woman on Mina’s right removed herself from the scene, leaving the other to continue petting her like some frightened animal undergoing treatment.

  The woman drew over a pole that was mounted on a wheeled base, one of the wheels crooked from use and causing the assembly to wobble during its passage. Hanging from its summit, in imitation of an intravenous drip was a large black bag of rubber, a hose dangling from the underside. The sac was swollen with fluid, the weighty bladder swinging menacingly as it was brought over.

  Lifting the coils of hose from the pole, the doctor ensured he showed her the moulded plastic tip before he used it. Shaped like a conical plug, its summit was peppered with small holes to distribute the douche evenly.

  ‘Lubricate the slave,’ he ordered, stepping back, the plug still boldly brandished in one hand.

  The woman tending her comfort moved away and snapped a layer of latex onto one hand. Taking a plain tube, she squeezed a viscous ointment onto her protected fingers and wandered between Mina’s legs.

  The cold gel touched her rear and Mina tried to clench, to bar entry, but the withering effects of the gas stopped her. The slightest of squeezes was all she could manage, a tease rather than a legitimate defence. Two fingers traced tight circles about the puckered opening, almost as though pondering whether to enter or not. With a soft push they slid in and Mina gasped from the shock of such violation, the feel of being opened in such a manner by another woman almost titillating.

  It was disturbing, and yet in the recesses of her psyche she was finding it strangely arousing to be used and processed so. She was accustomed to being in control, to being in command of every situation. To have all that removed, even in this eerie manner was tickling a prurient node within her. It was oddly pleasurable to have this woman within her, spreading the lubricant both in and out, gently rocking her hand back and forth as she added more of the sludge.

  Her body wanted to writhe on the fingers, but could only keep its frigid stance, something she was glad of, for she was having trouble accepting such feelings. Mina wanted to deny them, for they were alien and strange and she could not afford to become sidetracked, she had to stay focused.

  ‘That will do,’ he stated, offering his assistant the tip of the plug. The woman squeezed another measure of the ooze onto it and massaged the lubricant around, creating a slick coating for the instrument before handing it back and returning to her post. With a harsh pull, she ripped off the glove and set it aside. Instead of continuing her help of the doctor’s work, she busied herself with watching over Mina.

  Wielded by her impious surgeon, the plug kissed her rear and started to force its way in, readily sliding on the lubrication. A fiery discomfort started to plague her sphincter as it was stretched, causing her distress, the opening reviling such violation. It was definitely not virginal, but its memory of penetration was brief and it had been some time since she had last let a lover steal entry into such a passage.

  But this was different. She had never before succumbed to such a treatment, and she was frightened of what it was doing to her. Trying to steady her breath, assuring herself it would not harm her, that this man was experienced in such depravity, she winced as he continued his attempts to slot it in.

  The doctor saw her pained response and let the plug retreat, allowing her rear to grow accustomed to it, restoring the memory of penetration, teaching her flesh gradually rather than simply jamming it home.

  Once she had settled a little, he once more force-fed her rear the plug, the orifice more acceptable to it now. As the widest part hauled her ever more open, she started to shake a little, troubled by contradictory emotions.

  The greatest diameter was cleared and she gasped with a sudden sense of delight as her anus gulped it in, greedy after its tuition. The sphincter closed to grab the thin stalk of base beneath the wide cone, the feeling of being filled just as acute as the level of trespass.

  Mina’s thoughts raced. It felt strangely fulfilling to have accepted it, the act having accentuated the scenario of complete helplessness, feeding her libido another healthy measure of obliquity.

  The manifestation of a few twitches and shakes of response had Mina realise that she was starting to gather movement again. A tingling in her arms and legs was rising to greater levels, spots of power appearing and growing as the gas released its iron fist upon her nervous system.

  ‘Set her in the enema position,’ he muttered through the walls of the gasmask.

  The women crouched at her sides and pulled at levers, their descent stiff from the impediment of the metallic corsets. The chair suddenly started to pivot, rolling back, pitching her head down and rotating her rear up until it was higher than her features. At this angle she was left glaring wide-eyed and frightened into the steel clad loins of her two masked nurses. Like nubile statues they towered over her, their height magnified immensely by the dipped position of her head. The sense of submission welled afresh, her insignificance before such domineering servants emphasising it.

  With a turn of a valve the fluid was sent flooding down the tube and into her. A cold presence suddenly welled within her tracts, pushing outward and trickling deeper. Her eyes jolted open and she started to move a little against her bonds. It was a bizarre feeling, one that had her flicking her gaze around in panic. The two women soothed her, bending over and stroking her cheeks and hair, comforting her with soft shushes that rasped through the walls of their masks.

  The pressure inside her started to mount, growing greater as the ocean within her found itself unable to travel further, instead opting to swell. The concern that she might be ruptured by her own fight against the sea had her relaxing her insides, hoping to permit the flow an easier route around the twists and turns of her anatomy. Once more, any defiance of their will brought punishment, and once more she relinquished her rebellion and surrendered to them.

  The discomfort diminished and she breathed calmly. Mina started t
o shiver from the effects of the cool flood washing into her, purging her, its tantalising effects lifted higher by her act of obeisance.

  ‘Almost there,’ reported the doctor, the level of the bag draining rapidly away as gravity eagerly forced her to accept the steady cleansing transfer.

  ‘There, that wasn’t so bad was it,’ he stated, and with a slow pull her rear was opened and the plug extracted. The shock of sensation made her jerk against her bonds and air the first sound since her capture - a pip of squeaking surprise and relish.

  ‘Now don’t let any of that out, not yet, or you’ll be disciplined severely for it,’ he reported, hooking the plug onto the pole and reaching into the underside of the tilted chair. ‘Set her upright again and bring me the selection.’

  The two slaves turned the device, bringing her back to the normal reclining position. Instantly the weight of water fell like a stone against her sphincter.

  Mina clenched with what little effort she had. She could feel it seeking escape, the first drips seeping through as she fought to hold it back, not just for the sake of her doctor’s warning, but because of the demeaning spectacle such a failing would bring. Her old fury to succeed was applying itself, ignorant of how insane and inappropriate such a rationale was when linked to the enforced enema.

  A shaped funnel pressed to her rear, forcing her buttocks apart a little as it was sealed to her skin.

  ‘Hold this,’ he ordered, causing one of the women to press her hand to the oval cup, keeping it tight to Mina’s skin, ready to catch her issue. A sudden spurt escaped, the force against her feeble dam overwhelming it, the spreading of her rear to slot the funnel in further diminishing her capacity to hold the waters in.

  With a sucking slurp the issue was drawn away down the dark tubing attached to the funnel, an audible declaration that she had failed in her task.

  Beads of sweat were already rising on her brow from the strain. Her limbs were starting to flick against their bonds, the muscles tensed with endurance as she set her teeth on edge to fight for her goal.

  ‘Not yet,’ he purred with warning.

  ‘Just a little longer.’

  The doctor was merely watching her, standing at her side and watching her fight to hold on, to preserve some shred of personal dignity. She didn’t want to be watched while she did this. The opening of such a private deed to publicity was gnawing at her soul, but the fierce burden was more than she could bear. She wanted more than anything to release, it was simply beyond her to do otherwise.

  Once more they were going to make her fail, to thwart her, to make her imperfect and vulnerable. She tried to blame the gas, but she was not in the custom of allocating failings to scapegoats, so there was to be no maintaining of such a conviction.

  Such wicked deeds were having a profound effect on her, making her act in two minds. She wanted to prove them wrong, to hold out against the impossible, but also she longed to have defeat, to be broken at their hand, to wrap herself in the warm secure blanket of the protection and will of another.

  As he witnessed her turmoil the other servant was heard clattering around, setting trays on a wheeled trolley and then pushing it over. When Mina saw what was on it she tensed with disturbed anxiety, for the trays were neatly arrayed with an ascending line of dildos.

  The white plastic rods were rounded at the tip and ribbed along their entire length. Each had a silvery metal base, and ranged from small finger-sized nubs, to a monstrous bloated battering ram of a phallus.

  Parking the tray by the doctor, the woman returned to her post by Mina’s head, her eyes sparkling with an eager expectation of Mina’s period of testing penetration.

  ‘Okay, now you can let go,’ he stated.

  Despite Mina’s wish to hold out, she knew she would have to do it sooner or later; they were not leaving until she had. A soft chuckle from within the gasmask cut at her like a scalpel as the sloshing stream squirted from her in a strained jet to be siphoned away. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, her psyche having trouble with these new emotions. She was a defiant sculpture of ice, but these people were ferreting below that, dragging up sensations and motives she never even knew were there, so massively had she suppressed it all.

  The woman still standing by her head produced a tissue and mopped the sweat on her brow and caught the tears as they started to trickle down her cheeks. The touch was like a permission to vent her confusion, and immediately she started to weep more freely. It was a purging experience, not from sorrow, but from the unknown qualities within her. It felt wonderful to let such grizzles emerge, to expel the emotion that was choking her, the enema having washed away her strength as well as her waste, leaving her feeling slack and pliant.

  The last of the douche dribbled from her and waters spewed from within the cup, a small bidet flushing her clean before the funnel was removed in full.

  ‘Now, let’s fit you for your dildos,’ he uttered, though more to air his own thoughts than to express Mina’s fate. ‘I think we’ll go with a more natural lubrication this time,’ he stated, and stepped away before nodding to the servant who held the funnel.

  The woman took the filtering muzzle of her mask and lifted it up, dragging the plexus of straps from the back of her head and freeing her face. She had an attractive rounded visage that matched the barren dome of her skull. Her lips were painted a meagre red, her eyes circled with faint lines to draw more attention to them.

  When she licked her lips, Mina knew what the doctor had intended. Words of protest immediately rose in her throat, her slurred speech recognised as one of denial.

  ‘Gag her in the usual way,’ he prescribed as the women turned the chair back to its previous setting, taking her loins into the air for a session of devoted oral attention.

  As she felt fingers brush her pubic hair, Mina stiffened, trying to wriggle free of her bonds, afraid of being used thus. She had instigated and ruled several lesbian affairs, and was no stranger to cunnilingus, but to be bound and offered up like a meal to another, to have no influence in the exchange, this was something she had more trouble accepting.

  The other woman squeezed her fingers into Mina’s cheeks, digging her nails in. The last dregs of effect from the gas stopped her offering more than paltry resistance and her jaws were pried open. Into the generated rictus, a solid yet yielding hoop was inserted. Two riveted straps at each side fell to the corners of her mouth to help anchor it and stop Mina from spitting the hoop out. The strips were applied to buckles at the side of the headrest and tightened, pulling the circle further in, lodging it behind her front teeth and keeping her maw wide and open. A testing pull checked that the gag could not be altered, and the woman left Mina’s field of vision.

  Listening with nervous intent, Mina heard clunks of metal as she stared, inverted, at the white tiled wall. She tried to strain her head up to look into the mirrored roof and see what was going on, but the rigid gag and bond across her forehead kept her pinned down and left her with nothing but the wall as her view.

  The masked woman returned and Mina was dismayed to see that the crotch piece of her chastity belt was gone. The female lowered next to her for a moment, using the pretence of checking the straps as a cover to covertly address her.

  ‘Please, don’t hurt me, this isn’t up to me,’ she whispered, a nervous tremor in her voice; she must have seen Mina’s brash defiance, and was scared that Mina would exact retribution on her genitalia. ‘I’ll go easy, just be careful, okay?’

  Unable to answer, Mina could only watch as the assistant stepped astride her lowered head, leaving her looking directly into the smooth sex above her, the sight borne by the firm pillars that were her thighs. The image of the plucked slit started to lower, the woman readying to employ Mina’s face as a seat.

  Releasing some garbled implorations, her jaws battled the gag but the words were cut off as the flesh settled a
cross her maw, choking all attempts at speech. Her nose was left nuzzled to the female’s belly, snorting against the flesh, her eyes staring up across an ascending wall of flesh to the distant mounts of her breasts. The woman kept her legs taut, holding herself up a little, refusing to let her full weight rest on Mina’s countenance.

  When a flitting tongue parted Mina’s curled hairs and found her clitoris, she let loose a startled howl into the sex smothering her, biting her jaws to the soft but inflexible hoop. With an expert attention she felt herself being used, the woman’s tongue circling and suckling, the assistant’s knowledge of what she herself wished making her a sterling partner.

  The sheer savage bliss that was being poured into Mina dragged at her thoughts, hauling her into euphoric stupor. Unable to resist, her own tongue followed the move, the crashing waves of pleasure riding over and eroding her defiance. Reaching through the aperture of the gag, she tenderly started to reciprocate for the woman stifling her.

  Immediately the living gag started to relax, realising now that Mina meant no harm. Settling in for her ride, the woman reached down and stroked Mina’s hair with one hand and reached back to play her nipples with the other.

  Still lodged within the plexus of restraints it was glorious to be employed thus, to have her usual leading role stripped away, leaving her to the whims and mercies of the two servants. All panic vanished as swiftly as it had arrived.

  The juices of the woman were strong on her tongue, the flavour of her like a spice that increased her acceptance. Mina cared not how wanton a visage she was presenting, in her own mind she was still playing her role, and this deliberate self-delusion let her roll heedlessly on through the encounter. Because of it, she could still extract the strange sense of bliss she was finding in such depreciation of her former status; she could let herself enjoy the attentions of the bizarre nurses.