I must have known something was amiss even before I woke up. I don't even remember sitting up, but I can sense that she is there staring at me. Sure enough, when I turn I see her sitting on the other side of the sound proof glass wall. Her eyes are dead and her face expressionless. Immediately, I hate her.
I am surprised that my reaction is so strong and so singular. After all, I haven't seen another human being in almost two years. I would have thought that I would welcome companionship (if you could call it that). Instead, I only feel a sense of invasion. This woman is cutting in on my own solitariness. Her presence is not just sullying my view. It feels like an attack on my psyche.
I stare back at her. I want to taunt her with lewd gestures, but for some reason I am afraid that would give away whatever power I might hold. Instead, I return her expressionless glare, daring her to move first by focusing directly on her eyes.
Obviously, she is just like me - an inmate participating in the same experimental rehabilitation program. She has big brown eyes, high cheek bones and full lips. Her head, of course, is bald. We are allowed no hair during the course of our confinement. And she is as naked as I - her curves would have been attractive perhaps in a different circumstance. For now, though, to me, she is ugly. We could have been twins, I suppose.
I simply hate her.
After a moment, I let my eyes wander over to the large countdown displayed over her cell door. Six days and some hours. The cunt will be freed exactly one day before me.
I stand up from my bed and walk over to my sink where I look at my face in a mirror. In the reflection I can see her still sitting and staring into my cell.
I can't believe that after two years my jailers would put another person into the adjoining cell. Maybe this is to prepare me for the real world again. After all, there was some point in my incarceration, long ago, when I was desperate for another human to be placed in that cell. I had imagined that if there was someone there we would have developed some form of sign language or entertained one another somehow. But now, with this scag... I have no desire to interact with her.
My cell is very plain. Everything is a dull white color, the floor, the sink, the padding on the shelf that I use as a bed. There are no hard corners anywhere - all surfaces are a little flexible. I suppose they don't want me to bang my head on something strong enough to kill myself. They need not worry about me though. I have no desire to die. There are too many things waiting for me outside this rotting hole. That's the reason why I volunteered for this program - to get back into the world as fast as possible where my beloved Mistress is waiting for me.
There are two doors in my cell on opposite walls. The door underneath the orange flickering lights of my countdown clock has not been opened since I was locked inside so long ago. The second door opens occasionally by some automated system and gives me access to a shower and my "conditioning" room - at least that is my name for it.
I lower my head toward the sink until I trip a sensor. A stream of water arcs from a spigot and I drink. When I straighten up, I notice that the intruder has moved. She is now laying on her shelf, her hands folded behind her head, staring at the ceiling. I almost envy her. I know every inconsistency of that ceiling. I even know how many black dots there are up in the paneling. I count them often to see if the number ever changes. It doesn't. This intruder now has an entirely new ceiling to explore. I almost wish that they had moved me into her adjoining cell.
The light next to the food nozzle is not illuminated. I'm not hungry, but eating is doing something. And at the moment, I feel a great need to do... something. Anything to take my mind off the intrusive cunt.
"Cunt!" I say loudly. I know that there is no way she can hear me. No sounds enter or escape these cells. "That's my name for you! Cunt!"
Generally, when I become as restless as I currently feel, there is one thing that I can do that never really seems to grow old. Masturbate.
Indeed over the course of two years, I have made sure that I masturbated in every single square foot of my cell. I have divided the room into coordinates based on the length of my foot. Every time I masturbate, I move to a new coordinate and sit or stand or lie and frig myself off. After I have achieved an orgasm, I rate it, and over time I have developed a ranked list of locations and orientations where I'm most likely to have a more satisfactory orgasm. But now... Cunt is watching.
I am not under any illusion that my previous indulgences were not viewed. I'm certain that there are cameras all over this cell watching my every naked gyration. I'm certain that behind every camera there is some security employee jacking off watching my display. But still, with Cunt in the adjoining cell, I feel repressed. I don't want to give her the satisfaction of watching me.
Eventually, I return to my shelf and lie staring at my countdown clock. Seven fucking days, fourteen fucking hours, thirty-two fucking minutes and twenty-six god-forsaken, fucking seconds.
---
It is not too long after lying down that I hear a soft tone and the sound of a door opening. Thank god! I quickly stand up and walk through the second door of my cell that leads to the shower and the "conditioning" room.
No one ever told me what to do. I haven't heard another voice since my internment. I have not seen any written word either. You just learn the routines over time. There are no penalties if you don't do something correctly (if there even IS a correct way of doing things). You just learn.
Early on, when the door would open, I wouldn't go through. I thought I was rebelling somehow. My jailers though didn't seem to care. The open door would simply sit there, taunting me. Over time, I slowly gave up my rebelliousness since it seemed like a fairly useless attitude. Now, I jump at the chance to visit the second room. Once I have done whatever it is that my jailers want me to do and return to my cell, the door closes again until the next time.
Of course, I've counted all the dots on the ceiling and masturbated over the entire surface of that room as well.
