Experiment 239 Ch 01

Number 239, they called her.

My name is Elaida, she sorely wished she could say.

Except there was nobody to say it to. Well, there were "people", but they were not truly people. They didn't understand what a "name" was.

The day was dragging on, as it usually did. Her nipples were swollen and aching, clamped between devious little jaws with little relief. Weights swung from them with every little motion, tugging at the sore nubs in a maddening dance. Her feet and calves hurt in those sky-high stilettos, although she was getting better at walking in them by the day. She was encased in stiff, constricting boned leather from beneath her breasts to just above her hips, forcing her to keep her back perfectly straight. And her jaws ached from the 3-inch shiny red ball filling her mouth, causing a constant trickle of drool down her chin and onto her breasts.

She was exhausted. And starving. Her schedule had been packed ever since the dratted universal alarm had started echoing in the sterile hallways this morning, and she ached for a good meal and the paltry comfort of her bunk.

But she could not stop. The thick collar around her neck was an ever-present threat, just waiting to send jolts of pain through her entire body.

Stretching her lips around the gigantic ball in a vain attempt to alleviate some of the strain in her jaw, she forced her mind to the task at hand, seeking to blur out all the distractions. Polish vase, mince two steps to the left. Polish next vase, mince three steps. Polish...

A green flash filled her vision, and on the lower right of her field of view, words were printed out: "TASK #10 COMPLETED. PROCEED TO MESS HALL".

Relief, blessed relief. Depositing her cloth and polish in the designated slot, she made her way down the corridor to the mess hall, nipple weights dancing with each quick, tottering step... Only an estimated 100 metres away, but a 15-minute walk for a girl in 6-inch stilettos with her ankles bound by a short chain.

***

The mess hall was full when Elaida arrived - she would have to wait in line. Cursing under her breath, she picked up a pair of soft, foamy-looking cuffs from the front desk. Putting her wrists behind her back, she slipped them on, then reached up with her fingers and closed the locking clasp on them.

Right on cue, the cuffs began to flatten and spread, all the way up her lower arms to her elbows. And then they began to contract, a fraction of an inch at a time.

Taking a deep breath, Elaida adjusted as best she could, rolling her shoulders back and pushing her chest out. The strain on her upper back and shoulders grew as the foam contracted, until it was almost unbearable - and then it finally stopped with her elbows an inch away from each other.

Elaida very much disliked this part. Unlike some of the other objects she was made to wear, this one didn't send jolts of pure pleasure through her nipples, didn't make her pussy clench and throb with need. It was just... uncomfortable. But she didn't mind it too much today - her growling stomach was a more pressing concern.

She hurried towards the queues, almost colliding tits-first with another girl on her way to the doors. As per the usual routine, she turned her back to the scanner above the doors, letting it read the contraption on her wrists. "Appropriate equipment detected - Enter" said the screen on the revolving doors, and she stepped in. Angling for the shortest queue, she lowered herself to her knees behind the ten girls ahead of her, and waited.

The minutes ticked by and she shifted uncomfortably, wishing she could ease the strain on her shoulders at least, if not the growling in her belly. After what seemed like an eternity, she shuffled up to the front of the queue. Protruding from the wall in front of her was a large phallic appendage, roughly 8 inches in length and 2 in diameter. With a practised movement, she leaned forward and took it into her mouth, stroking the veiny shaft with her lips and tongue as the screen instructed. After 5 minutes, green lights flashed, along with the words "PROCEED TO FINAL STAGE".

As she had done yesterday, and the day before, and for as long as she could remember, she slid all the way forward to the base of the appendage, her nose touching the wall and the bulbous head pushing at the back of her throat. And then she closed her eyes, did her best to calm herself and hold down the gag reflex, and waited.

After a torturous few seconds, the appendage discharged a slurry into the back of her throat, her meal for the day. The muscles in her throat contracted repeatedly as she did her best to take it all in. She had, only once, made the mistake of pulling back and sputtering. She had gone to bed a very thirsty girl that day.

Finally the green lights flashed again, and she pulled back, gasping for breath. A stream of water was trickling out of the appendage, and she lapped at it, feeling her thirst quench. When it stopped, she rose unsteadily to her feet, feeling the familiar warmth of satiation spread through her body.

Those feelings. She had experienced them before this. Before this... "life". When? Where?

She paused for a moment, her brows furrowing. Then the collar sent a zap through her, rousing her from her thoughts and eliciting a squeal. "Number 239, please leave the mess hall," said the polite robotic voice over the speakers.

Elaida didn't wait to be told twice.

***

Only after she had reached her bed in Bunk 6 was Elaida allowed to strip. The ball gag went first, into its designated slot, where it promptly vanished. In actual fact, the nipple clamps hurt more, but she dreaded the intense jolt of pain that its removal would surely bring. Being somewhat used to this existence by now, she didn't attempt to even try and fully close her jaws yet - it would take a while before the stiffness would subside sufficiently for her to do so.

The corset went next - she traced the lines over her torso, where the boning had left indentations on delicate skin. She didn't actually mind that one too much, she realized. It felt almost like a strong embrace... embrace? Again, that fleeting sense of remembrance, of association with something in the past.

But as soon as those thoughts had come, they deserted her. Now she just felt tired. The torturous shoes went off next, and finally the clamps, bringing with it the promised seconds of almost unbearable agony.

Naturally, the collar couldn't be removed. Even if she had managed to find a seam, she wouldn't have tried. It would zap her senseless before she made any headway, she was sure.

"SECURE SELF IN BED", said the display on the lower right of her vision. Elaida sat down slowly on the bed, wishing that she could have 10 minutes, just 10 minutes, all to herself. Without any of the infernal contraptions, tasks, bonds, or apparel. But it was not to be.

With a resigned sigh, she lowered herself into a spread-eagled position on the bed. Soft, transparent cuffs appeared at the corners of the bed, stretching and coiling until all four of her limbs were in their grasp. It wasn't a bad stretch, her muscles had more than enough room to relax and flex a little, but it was a constant reminder that she was never hers. She was theirs. Whomever "they" were.

A whirring sound was heard. Descending from the ceiling were clamps attached to a chain, with padded tips. Elaida was an old hand at this by now. She knew these wouldn't hurt as much as the ones she'd been forced to wear during the day. These would encircle her nipples with a light, comforting squeeze, just strong enough to stay on if she tried to tug away. She tugged against them anyway - it felt good. Really good, in fact. A soft moan escaped her lips as she squirmed in her bonds.

Two phallic objects, one 7 inches in length and 2 in diameter, and the other one considerably smaller and covered with a liquid substance, moved up from the foot of the bed until they reached just below her glistening mons. Then they began to probe her openings, gently pushing further and further in until they were lodged firmly within her.

She groaned in frustration. She knew she could jiggle up and down the dildos a little, but that would be the extent of her ability to pleasure herself. There was no way she could give herself the pleasure her body yearned for, the release it craved. It was some sort of strange torment, so delicious but yet almost unbearable if she let herself focus on it.

She moved anyway. How could she not? Her bonds had an inch or so of give, and she fucked the dildos with all the ferocity her strained muscles could muster, squeezing inwards with her hips. She was so close, so close... but yet so far.

Why?! What was the purpose of all this torment?? Why was she kept in this perpetual cycle of pain, exhaustion and pleasure, yet never allowed to seek relief? Who was benefiting from this? Was anyone?

Exhausted, she flopped down and closed her eyes, willing herself to drift off with her stuffed pussy clenching in need.