Chapter 1 - Sentence
The large, imposing courtroom was filled with a murmur of subdued conversations, which accumulated to a considerable noise due to sheer quantity of ongoing verbal exchanges. The interior of the room was arranged in formal brown and white palettes, which strongly set the tone for an atmosphere of judicial authority. Into these intimidating surroundings the ICBG officers led the proud, but somewhat overwhelmed Melissa. Her bodily restraints were somewhat loosened as she no longer wore the leg irons or a waist chain. Only the standard issue handcuffs remained snuggly on her wrists. There was something else though that caused the alluring prisoner much grief. The strict ICBG safety rules, aside from occasional exceptions, required prisoners to wear a high-security muzzle whenever they were allowed outside of the underground lockdown area.
The muzzle was a brutal device and it seemed even more so when applied to the face of a lithe, delicate and extremely beautiful girl such as Melissa. It consisted of a network of thick leather straps strategically engulfing the girl's head with a wide, stiff, rectangular patch covering the mouth. It seemed that Melissa's face was somewhat elongated under the muzzle and the perception was correct as the inner surface of the mouth piece protruded a thick, meaty, three inch long tube into the wearer's throat. Melissa was becoming used to ICBG's methods, yet even so she was shocked that she had to wear such an intrusive and humiliating device for her public court appearance. There were two leather straps extending from the mouth patch and circling her head horizontally, and another two emerging diagonally from the top, meeting between her eyebrows, and continuing as one piece over the top of her head into the fastening point at the occipital section. A further set of straps flowing downwards from the sides of the mouth patch and forming an attachment point for a circular strap closely hugging Melissa's neck completed the punitive contraption.
The diagonal straps extending from the top of the mouth piece were well within Melissa's field of vision and made it impossible for her to brush aside the feeling that the treatment she endured was more becoming of a wild animal then a fawned-over, elegant, and pampered upper-middle-class girl like her. She felt a lump forming in her throat and tears gathering up in the corners of her eyes; yet she was resolved not to fall apart.
Melissa wiggled her wrists in her handcuffs trying to get some movement that didn't follow the rigid paths enforced by her restraints. It brought her some relief and she found it gratifying to realize that she could reduce the stiffness in her joints by exercising the freedom allowed by her bonds. It felt like a breeze of fresh air after confinement to a tight, closed, humid room. She took in a few deep breaths through her nostrils as her mouth was effectively sealed by the vicious muzzle, and was able to regain some of her trademark composure.
Melissa listened to the proceedings with dignity and grace. She even found the moxie to cross her pretty legs and retained a very lady-like posture despite her humiliating circumstances. She kept her head proudly erect and the side of her muzzled face daringly displayed to the gawking, excited crowd. Even in these circumstances she was aware of her attractiveness. She wore a dark grey skirt that ended just above her knees and a light pink wool top with a turtle neck. The flowing curves of her feet were accentuated by a pair of high heel sandals. Melissa's most trying times came when the saliva building up behind her muzzle could no longer be contained and started flowing down her chin. She timidly touched her representative with her handcuffed hands to gain his attention and pointed to her salivating mouth. The young man who was emphatic of her predicament, though of course hopelessly incompetent at his job, quickly understood and asked the bailiff for a tissue or a piece of cloth. A box of tissues was delivered to the defendant's table and Melissa's representative carefully wiped her mouth and chin area reaching as far as he could under the muzzle. This process had to be repeated a couple of times before she was ordered to stand up and the judge laid down the highly predictable verdict:
"Lady Melissa,
For your continuous displays of excessive female beauty, savvy, and intelligence, possession of natural 36DD breasts, and the intimidation and anxiety imposed, willingly or not, upon the male gender, you are hereby sentenced to 2 years imprisonment in a maximum security ICBG unit. You are henceforth stripped of your female rights for the duration, and it is the hope of this court that you emerge purified and servile from your penance. This Court is adjourned!"
Melissa stood stoically after the verdict was read, reconciled to the fact that she would have to face challenging ordeals for all the fun-filled times afforded by her natural beauty. It didn't matter that she remained chaste and pure to this day. There were many men out there who felt slighted by the fact that she turned down their advances even if she didn't do it in favor of another man, but only for her private resolve. Deep inside though, she knew that her punishment was fair. She did feel disdain towards all those men that virtually, and often figuratively, begged for her attention. It was wrong, but she couldn't help it - and now she would pay the price.
The two ICBG officers who transported Melissa to the courthouse approached her again. One of them knelt down and placed leg irons on her ankles while the other inserted a metal pole between her back and her pulled back elbows. The officers then took hold of opposite ends of the pole and led the heavily restrained girl out the back door. The officers walked Melissa to a small holding cell. She was locked inside with all her restraints still on with the only relief being the metal pole pulled from between her back and arms. Melissa could do nothing but wait. There was a small bench in the holding cell that also served as a toilet with an opening in the middle. Thankfully Melissa did not feel an urgent need to relieve herself. She sat on the bench nervous, but also strangely excited about her future. She could not help but feel the erotic aspect of being a stunning beauty bound by chains; cold metal contrasting sharply against her hot young skin.
The trip to ICBG was uneventful. Melissa took in as much as she could of the outside world suddenly feeling extremely envious of all those plain looking, stressed-out people running around with their daily errands. They were free. They had human rights. They didn't have to wear chains. That suddenly felt like so much.
"Sentenced prisoner delivered for admittance." communicated one of the officer's transporting Melissa addressing his message to the reception desk staffer - Beatrice. She just happened to be a bombshell. A twenty-something, recent hire, pouty princess, borderline on qualifying for ICBG herself. In fact her colleagues frequently joked that if they got a chance, they would certainly show her a thing or two about respecting the "strong gender". As it was, she was able to act snooty to both the prisoners and the guards. It was supposed to be her responsibility to take off the prisoners' muzzle and ask a few questions about the inmate's mental state, however she felt disgusted at touching the contraption with all the sweat and saliva accumulated through hours of wear. She would either ask someone to do it for her, or ignore the procedure entirely and fill the questionnaire with typical responses. She decided to do the latter in Melissa's case.
"Stand here!" she told Melissa, pointing to the floor a couple of feet in front of her desk. There was a small stool there, but Beatrice kept the bound and muzzled prisoner standing for the next fifteen minutes while she plugged away at the keyboard of her computer. Once done with the paperwork she looked up, pointed to the stool, and said - "Sit!" Melissa, blushing with embarrassment moved herself in front of the stool and slowly lowered her behind onto it.
The stool was purposely low so that prisoners sitting on it felt increasingly humiliated. Melissa picked up her phone and called for the lockdown staff.
"Take this downstairs" - said Beatrice when the officers arrived. "Prisoner number is P5237, sentenced to two years". One of the officers took papers from Beatrice and then each guard grabbed one of Melissa's upper arms and led her down the hallway. They entered an industrial looking elevator. There was a window nearby and one of the officers pointed to it. "Take a look at the outside young lady, because you will not be allowed above ground during your first month of your stay here". Melissa took a quick solemn look at the outside world, then dropped her head down and shuffled her pretty, shackled feet into the elevator. The metal gate closed behind her with a loud clang. One of the guards pulled a lever and the elevator descended inevitably into the depths of ICBG...
Chapter 2 - Initiation
The elevator came to a jerky stop after a short, but fairly swift descent. The guards led Melissa out and into a small room, which featured an enclosure on the left surrounded by reinforced glass, and within it - a manned guard desk. The room ended on the opposite side with a large, incredibly heavy looking steel door, which looked more like an entrance to a bank vault with only a small, square, metal glass plate at eye level allowing to peek inside. Melissa's guards briefly flashed their badges to the man at the desk. It was a silly formality since these two guards were mainly responsible for transferring prisoners into and out of the ICBG lockdown area. Protocol, however, was taken very seriously at the facility and even seemingly redundant activities were carried out to the fullest extent. The guard sitting behind a thick glass protective shield nodded his head and pressed a button on the desk. A series of heavy but crisp metallic sounds occurred in short succession accompanied by what sounded like little motors revving and doing their duty. The door opened automatically with surprising silence revealing that it was about a foot thick and attached to the wall by the means of mighty hinges.
The guards pushed their lovely prisoner through the gateway and walked into a much larger room in which Melissa's eyes were stricken by a strange contrast. The left side of the room, from her point of view, looked rugged and industrial with another steel door leading closer into a certainly dreary fate while at the other end cement floor gave way to a lush blue carpet reaching up to a wall finished with shiny granite tiles and white parget in between each slab. The guards mercifully led Melissa towards the friendly wall with double wooden doors adorned by floral carvings and door handles in the shapes of lizards. After scaling the inviting entrance, the threesome walked down a bright-lit corridor with numerous side corridors emerging occasionally on both sides and doorways appearing even more frequently. Some of the doors were open and Melissa took a few timid, but curious glances trying to make sense of her surroundings. She saw what looked like an ordinary day in an ordinary though luxurious corporate office. Employees, mostly young and attractive men and women, were sitting at their desks and tapping away on their keyboards or conversing on their phones. A couple of times someone passed through the corridor without as much as taking a glance at our trio, apparently pursuing some unrelated business matters. Finally the group, moving rather slowly due to Melissa's still getting acquainted with the shocking reality of having her ankles bound by leg irons, reached a door at the end of the corridor. The sign on the door read: "Director - ICBG unit 12".
One of the guards knocked on the door and a few seconds later, without an obvious sign that entry was permitted, opened the door and pulled Melissa behind him. The other guard retreated and disappeared from view. The director's room was another gloriously furnished piece of interior decoration. The room was brightly lit, with cleverly concealed sources of light and very peculiar screens on each wall, doing an excellent job of mimicking windows by projecting a coherent image of an elegant urban neighborhood. Without explicit knowledge of being underground, one might have been easily fooled. Melissa was led towards a large mahogany desk in the middle of the room. Behind the desk, reclining in an ergonomic chair sat a man whose regular facial features, short dark hair, and broad shoulders gave him an appearance of casual yet undeniable authority.
