Captured by Charybdis

by Bruce McLachlan

  ‘Proceed with the rest of her uniform - she shouldn’t present any more trouble,’ stated the woman, smiling as she watched Mina quiver in the grip of the attendants, her physique slack in their latex arms, her eyes half closed, her thighs locked together as she moaned softly.

  It was true. All resistance had fled as she was left shuddering from the caress of the toys. The pleasure was melting her will to defy, leaving her ready to submit to their designs.

  What appeared to be a rubber straitjacket was taken up, the bleak material thick and armed with a veritable arsenal of buckled straps. Unable to oppose them, Mina had the back of the garment opened and then fed onto her, the tight sleeves enclosing her arms as the cold interior fell onto her naked chest. A generous layer of talcum powder let it slide easily against her skin to place her hands in tight mittens, bunching her fingers into a single stalk.

  Dragging the jacket in, they zipped up the back, the rigours of the fit compressing her torso, making each breath fight the limited elasticity of the attire. Mina let out a whistling gasp of rapture as she felt herself being compressed, her breasts taken in and grasped by the material, each inhale revealing the stretch of the corset-like body about her. It was an unexpected and intense sensation, one she could not have foreseen as affecting her in such a way.

  The buckles across the zip were set in place and the thick collar that forced her head up and to attention was similarly made steadfast. The additions assisted the work of the belt, bringing her closer to climax.

  Thinking it was an ordinary version of a straitjacket, Mina was taken by surprise when they started to fold her arms up her back. She gurgled within the gag from the discomfort as the hoop atop each mitten was clamped to her collar, and then she fought their holds as her contorted arms were buckled to her back, pulling them in and pressing them to her. The women held her tight, working without impediment, well versed and used to such lack of acceptance.

  Scylla’s eyes sparkled with delight at seeing the conflict, in seeing Mina being subdued, the distress in her eyes, the barely discernible murmurs seeping through the gag, the hidden lust for such treatment creeping behind her tear-filled gaze.

  With the jacket now immobilising her torso, they forced her down onto the ground and started to pull restrictive stockings onto her legs. The dense material made even bending them a little difficult, and their extremely tight fit was even worse to endure. Suspenders were clipped to the corset and to the stockings, stopping them from sliding down, not that such movement was likely with the cinch they placed to her limbs.

  But even this was not adequate for Scylla’s regime of control, so the stockings were buckled to each other via several anchors along their inner surface, forcing her legs into a single connected stem.

  Mina writhed on the floor like a worm trying to get free of a pinch as a fishhook loomed before it and its fate as bait was acknowledged. She was out of her depth; the machinations of the belt could no longer ease her willingness. The bondage had eclipsed her ability to accept it. She wanted to get free, terrified of this helplessness and cruel bondage. But she could do nothing save amuse Scylla with her struggles, the woman enjoying them like nectar.

  ‘Apply the new gag,’ she decreed, and the chastity belt ceased its manipulation, leaving Mina close to finding orgasm, but depriving her of release.

  As the heady warmth of her pleasure evaporated, the rigours of the rubber restraint became all the more imposing on her. There was no more comfort from the belt, only the dismal crushing fist of the outfit.

  The women unbuckled the straps and pulled free the bulb without deflating it, making Mina strain her aching jaws even wider as the spit sodden balloon popped free and finally let her close her mouth. Mina swallowed for strength and spoke with soft hushed tones.

  ‘What are you going to do with me?’ she questioned fearfully as one of the women opened a small box.

  ‘You will be kept gagged during the initial part of your stay. How long depends on you. It could be a few days, weeks, months, even years. Who knows?’

  Mina fought her bondage with new vigour, trying to slither free, the thought of being kept so controlled now rising over her capacity to weather it. She would not be kept silent, refused the power of speech until these people deemed her worthy of it. Were they going to try and train her? Indoctrination - was that Korin’s big secret?

  A new gag was exposed, this one akin to the previous affair save that it spewed a long hose from the inside, the ribbed pipe obviously intended for her throat. Two women knelt beside her and took hold of head and jaw as the third went to the boxes to arm herself for the next stage of Mina’s ordeal.

  ‘Get off me,’ she growled, thrashing against the resilient bonds. ‘You can’t do this!’

  ‘Really?’ mocked Scylla, as latex gloves took control of Mina’s face, forcing her mouth open as she fought to stop them. ‘We seem to be doing just fine so far.’

  ‘Bitch!’ she yelled, tears running from her eyes, watery manifestations of her frustration, her sense of calamity, her desire to relish this defeat at the hands of the majestic woman. ‘I’ll not let you do this! I... I... get off me!’

  ‘Tut tut, little slave. Keep talking like that and you’ll be wearing that gag for an awfully long time,’ Scylla promised, leaning back and folding her arms, eyes wide to soak up every detail of Mina’s subjugation. The third closed in, offering the pipe to Mina’s mouth. ‘Oh, and a word of advise to make this easier on you. When the pipe touches the back of your throat, swallow,’ said Scylla, watching with sadistic intrigue.

  Mina blurted her refusal, trying to stop them, but the women had defeated her too effectively. She had lost the time when she could have stopped this, and the fact that she could now do nothing made her even more furious.

  The pipe was pushed in, her tongue unable to delay it. When it reached deeper she retched, the intrusion turning her stomach. With a sudden swallow she complied, riddled with angst. Instantly she flew into throes of instinct, the tube riding gently down her throat and into her stomach, the sensation ghastly and making her insane with angst.

  The moulded cup clamped to her face and the straps were set to her, this time being locked to prevent interference. The gag held her mouth open with its main plug, stretching her jaws as the hose poured down her throat to stop her from speaking, leaving her nose as her only means to gain air.

  ‘There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?’ purred Scylla. ‘The tube will allow us to feed you, so even that chore will be denied you. We now have total command over every aspect to your person. We’ll decide what you see, hear, eat, even feel. You’ll serve as a slave to Charybdis, used for whatever we want. And you’ll learn obedience, slave. If you resist, discipline will be used to change your ways. So through such training we’ll even decide what occurs in your mind. Does that not make you feel secure?’

  Fresh tears welled in Mina’s eyes. She couldn’t believe this was happening, that she was to be so utterly enslaved. They were taking everything from her; even bodily functions were to be stripped away. She was to be a total prisoner, and if they kept this regime of restraint she might never escape. She had been condemned to relentless bondage and control, her will torn aside.

  ‘Now the pressure suit,’ Scylla proclaimed, and the women flipped open the lid of the largest box.

  A cocoon of dense latex was enclosed about Mina, the constricting sheath rising to her neck before a clear spherical helmet of dense hardened plastic was locked into place, an aperture at the very top letting her continue breathing, the hole awaiting the connection of an air hose. The seal between the dome and body bag was obviously airtight, designed for undersea use. Mina now knew that she had been sealed within a diving suit, one without limbs to turn her into a compacted chrysalis, ready for her journey.

  ‘Bring her,’ commanded Scylla, running her card through the security system and punching
in a ten-digit code to cause the door to slide back.

  Completely trapped, Mina could do nothing as the women gathered around and lifted her up. They were her pallbearers as she wheezed softly in the hood, the interior growing hot, the small opening at the top barely adequate for her needs. She was sweltering within the folds of latex, her skin slick with sweat, beads forming on her brow and running down her face as she panted softly. She now had a taste of what the Oread were enduring, but they at least were accustomed to it. As a virgin to such latex imprisonment, the new sensations were far more severe and terrifying to Mina. Yet despite her fright, her misgivings, and her loathing for this vile capture, she felt slithers of submissive pleasure in her doom; the tube down her throat, the layers of weight mummifying her, the domination over her by others. With such leanings already set free, how soon would it be before her training rendered her utterly compliant? Such notions made her panic rise even higher.

  As she was ferried across towards the pool the view became more and more blurred, the wall of fogging condensation blocking her view to the world.

  At the edge of the pool she could just see lines of specially crafted fittings. Each of them held some sort of circular clip that was the tip of a metallic cable, the coil snaking into the pool. There was a gap of three before her, testifying that three of the lengths were already in use. The next one along was removed and lifted up, hauling slack cable from the water.

  The hose paid its length down into the pool and was screwed into the top of her helmet. There was a click of successful mating and a hiss poured through her limited world. Cool air swept in, inflating the cocoon a little, pressing a slim layer of air between itself and her bound and helpless frame.

  Something was clipped to her feet, the heavy weight merging with the suit to counter her buoyancy, giving her a momentary clue as to their intentions. With a startled mewl she was pitched into the water, the impact barely felt through the dense layers entrapping her.

  The weight of the prison at head and foot caused her to immediately sink, dropping to the floor where she found herself looking at the rear end of the transport. Also, Mina found herself far from alone, for three other women were sealed in identical bondage to hers. They all lay at the bottom of the pool, connected to the submarine by the life-giving hoses that also served to hold them flat against the floor, pinned down by the cable and the anchors at their feet.

  Drifting down, Mina dropped amongst them, and they could only look at each other in dismal apathy, terrified. All of them were gagged in the same way, and none of them could even move, the weight of the water upon them further hampering any motion as their suits continued the procedure of pressurising. Her neighbour was a young woman, perhaps twenty, with a shock of short red hair, sapphire blue eyes, and a few faded freckles running across her cheeks. Beside her lay a dark-skinned maiden located more deeply into her twenties, her braided locks fastened into a ponytail of intricate tentacles of hair. The last was a small olive-skinned girl of Japanese heritage, still in her teens, about to take that last step or two out of them. Her bob of sable hair was damp with tears and perspiration, making it shine all the more, reminding Mina of Melissa.

  For long minutes they waited, unable to do anything save regard each other and their token surroundings while also fearing what fate awaited them.

  The umbilical that fed them air connected to the bottom of the submersible, ready to be both their tow cable and lifeline. The other cables she had seen attached to the side of the pool were not connected to the craft and simply remained curled on the pool bed awaiting use at some future date.

  Mina could not fathom what she should do. Perhaps she might be able to escape at a later time? But they would surely keep security high for a lengthy period wherever she ended up. Only once they were certain they had broken her, made her obedient to their will, only then would they relax, and by then it might be too late. She had already seen that she was willing to surrender in some circumstances, what then once they had expanded further, turning her into a fawning pet? It could be done, there was no question of that, the only matter left to be resolved was whether or not she could resist it while feigning acceptance.

  Also, in the back of her mind was a voice of levity, whispering that she should revel in this, enjoy it, surrender, give up with all her foolish notions of escape and plotting. There was part of her mesmerised by this fate, the notion of being kept under such control, of being ruled ruthlessly for the rest of her life. In such an epicurean existence she could resist all she wanted and still be held captive.

  The thought was a delicious one, and she wondered if they had the strength and stamina to make it so. These other women were nothing like her. She was composed of a far sterner material than these compliant citizens, and she questioned whether her captors had the skill to make her malleable. But were they captors? The serviles they were recruiting willingly signed themselves over. Of course they would not be so eager had they known the truth, but for the money involved there was no source for real complaint. Yet these people had lives, they had families and friends, careers and goals to be lost and separated from. Did this make it harder for them? Mina had no such ties, only her fierce independence and sense of self-strength. Would the extraction of these traits be a good or bad thing for her? It was intriguing her greatly, the idea of losing herself to the command of others, of being a prisoner, of fighting and rebelling, only to be defeated each time. There was something innately alluring about such martyrdom, of facing such strife on a daily basis, each day that she retained her will being a victory, a personal achievement of no small stature. And if she failed, if she lost herself to the role of a servant, then she had another legitimate goal to follow, she would have a perfection to attain, she could strive to be the most pleasing and dedicated of followers to Korin’s cause.

  Chapter 7

  A stifled sound of movement rolled through the waters as the bay doors opposite them started to open, the underwater portal allowing the craft exit.

  Light exploded through the pool as headlights were thrown to full power, and with a whirl of effort the banks of propellers started to spin, churning the waters and buffeting the prisoners with eddies of current.

  The submersible cruised slowly forward into a rough horizontal shaft, taking up the slack as it went until with a gentle jerk each of the women was tugged up to drift behind it, their bodies riding the awkward turbulence created by the whirling blades.

  The hoses were roughly twenty metres long, letting them dwell well back, and continually bump or scrape the floor due to the lacklustre passage.

  The craft followed the roughly carved route for a while, moving carefully, wary of the confines of space in the tight tunnel.

  Emerging suddenly from the side of an underwater cliff face, the world dropped away beneath them, the women suddenly squealing and fighting their bonds as they beheld the abyss below. Darkness was everywhere, with only vague hints of the seabed and no clue of the surface. The lights of the sub cut out, hiding it from view as it continued to operate on computer guidance and sonar. A few red navigational lights beneath it held back the full wrath of the gloom, letting the women spy each other through hesitant clues on their outlines.

  Drifting through the cold depths, Mina threw her head to and fro, wondering where they were. If she could spot a landmark, spot anything, it might assist her at some future point, but the sub was cruising in deep waters where neither surface nor seabed could be distinguished.

  The pain of her position steadily increased, her arms aching, her throat sore, her body reviling this total denial of motion and constant pressure heaped upon it. For seemingly hours they drifted behind the sub, unable to do anything else, then suddenly a hose disconnected without warning. All eyes flashed to the woman as she started to sink, her eyes wide with terror as she drifted deeper into the consuming inky blackness. When the end of the hose slipped by, they saw a small canister
upon it, the fitting still connected to a meagre reservoir of air.

  Another umbilical disconnected, sending another after the first. Mina was livid with panic. What was going on? The third woman was set free and sank, her eyes staring wildly at Mina as she plummeted in an awful slow motion. The tears streaking down her face and the faint wiggles of distraught effort were smothered by shadow and eventually she was lost from view.

  Mina locked her eyes to her own lifeline, praying that she not be next, that a malfunction hold her to the craft and not let her fall.

  She felt a shift in her momentum and the sub started to fall away as she too was released. She screeched into her gag, her body berserk against the bondage, her hose drifting above her, a coil reaching upwards and connecting to nothing save a small package of steel. Her slow descent continued, the weight of the ocean increasing as she could only watch the sea flow around her tumbling body, the depths getting darker and darker with every passing second of her fall. It was like being devoured by oblivion, a nightmare education in what terror was, softening up the psyches of the recruits, making them more susceptible to education.

  From below she started to see a faint light in the distance, a soft ambience that permeated the darkness, like a distant solitary star in a bland night sky.

  The light continued to grow stronger and she started to make out the ocean floor and shoals of fish dancing in the illumination. The rocky landscape was a rainbow explosion of colour and extended out into the darkness, but where the light was strongest she started to see some manner of structure. Was this the place where Charybdis dwelt? Had Korin created some sort of underwater palace? Was this the end product of his private venture, and was this why it was so well hidden? Because of the sheer monstrous illegality of it? Was Korin some sort of depraved sexual beast, keeping a deep-sea harem of slaves that he paid exceedingly well and used without reservation?