Chapter 4: Stable Vices
Without meaning to, Lara developed a serious addiction to masturbation.
What choice did she have? She had spent her entire life stimulated by the finest things: expensive sushi for her refined palate, adventures in exotic locales, interesting schooling that included a lot of sports and exercise to get her endorphins flowing. Here, in her cell, there was nothing except her sensitive tattoos and that ever-present screen. Once she had given the cameras one show, what difference did it make if she did it again?
This is what she told herself, even though she knew deep down that it was a troublesome habit.
It was troublesome on many levels. The most striking issue was that she never really managed to match the intensity of her first orgasm, the one she had with Miss Galkowska's stockings all over her. That was always Lara's goal: to have a nearly transcendent climax that would drive all the other thoughts from her mind. But it never worked out that way. In fact, it seemed like each orgasm was weaker than the previous one, and to such a degree that Lara could harbor no doubts about the pattern forming.
At first, she overcame this problem by teasing herself more, thus prolonging the experience, and for a while that was effective. There was a certain artistry to it - subtle strokes she could use on her increasingly-familiar clit, sometimes no more than a feather touch to keep her teetering on the brink of an orgasm as a way of increasing its eventual power. But soon, even that didn't do the trick anymore, and Lara was left teasing herself for a completely unreasonable length of time to even have a muted echo of that first experience.
By that time, she couldn't even get off in a hurry anymore. For the frustrated teenager to actually reach the heights of pleasure, it required a session of lengthy and imaginative teasing, or else accepting failure. Lara knew enough about the principles of addiction to see what was happening here: addicts would chase that first high even as it required more and more of their 'drug' to make it happen. But even knowing that did nothing to help her. It was just one more bad thought to push to the back of her mind as she reached between her legs again to see if she could make her long, shapely toes curl in ecstasy just one more time. Pretty please?
This compounded with another issue: the programming on the smartscreen was obviously meant to indoctrinate her. It was female-friendly erotica that they barely bothered to disguise anymore. Lara had read somewhere that as a person becomes more aroused, they become more tolerant of "disgusting" things. That was exactly what was happening to her now, and she spent so much of her days aroused that she was becoming quite comfortable with things that should have been downright repugnant!
That blonde millennial girl, the one who looked like royalty, apparently had a reality show made about her. She looked so much like Robin Woodward that Lara pretty much thought of her whenever she saw this one. It wasn't a good association. The royal girl had a maid hanging about her most of the time - a statuesque brunette who wore white gloves along with a racy maid's uniform. This show was wholly unsuitable for television for a lot of reasons, but especially because the maid would often crawl between her mistress's creamy thighs and perform a lengthy session of oral sex at her behest.
If this had been the first thing Lara had seen on the smartscreen, it would have been one thing. But the maid's most intimate duties seemed to take place at the precise moments when Lara was nearest to finishing herself off, and it was such a natural progression from other footage that it kind of slipped under her radar.
If Lara looked away from the screen for even a moment, it would ruin her entire session and she would have to start over from scratch - something she had learned the hard way. So she watched all the close-ups of the brunette maid's pretty face practically buried in her blonde mistress's snatch, seeing the repetitive movements within the girl's jaw as her tongue worked overtime. Usually, the blonde woman would have one hand resting dominantly on top of the maid's head, or grasping her ponytail. With the other, she would be playing with her smartphone, or holding an old-fashioned princess phone up to her ear and having an animated discussion with whomever was on the other line. The maid didn't have the same freedom - her hands were most often cuffed behind her back, and her knees were most often on the hard tile floor at the seat of her mistress's favorite black leather chair.
There was a box of tissues near the blonde girl's phone. When her maid finished with her duties (usually after bringing her mistress to several loud orgasms which made Lara all the more furious she couldn't quite get there), the blonde would take a single tissue and wipe her girlcum from off her maid's face.
She really made a show of this: painstakingly gathering every last bit of her juices onto the soft, white pad. Then the mistress would use that same tissue to delicately wipe herself clean down there, her flushed face making the most adorable expressions the entire time. Then she would clean the seat of the leather chair, and finally place the soaked tissue into her maid's mouth. There was a small white egg-shaped trash can nearby, but it never seemed to occur to the blonde to use it for that purpose.
Lara had sympathy for the maid. She didn't appear to take the least pleasure in her duties - in fact, she looked pale and weary by the end of this ritual. Oftentimes, there would be a thread of clear, viscous liquid that ran from her plump lips to her mistress's puffy sex that would lengthen as she pulled away. The maid clearly didn't enjoy eating tissues - who would, really? Lara had heard it was a thing supermodels did - a way to suppress the appetite without consuming any calories - but here it was an obvious act of abject worship.
The brunette looked way too much like Lara for her comfort. It felt like she was watching a pornographic parody of her own life, if she had been a million times less fortunate. Why didn't she think to resist or escape or fight back anymore?
She wasn't returned to schooling for quite some time. Nurse Cerys had taken away Miss Galkowska's stockings, and Lara's solitary confinement began again.
Ugh, Nurse Cerys - Lara could barely bring herself to make eye contact with the woman anymore, not since she had walked in on her masturbating so many times. The girl spent so much time playing with herself that it was bound to happen, but Lara knew it wasn't a coincidence that the blonde nurse had barged into her cell right at the moment she was cresting the peak of an orgasm. The cameras, Lara had made peace with, but another person intruding on her just totally messed her up, and brought on the guilt and shame that crushed all of her sexy feelings. At least for a little while.
"Nurse! I- I wasn't, uh," Lara stammered, covering herself as best she could the first time she was discovered playing with her clit. She felt totally ridiculous, and prayed for this moment to be over as soon as possible.
"It's no problem!" the nurse encouraged her, "nothing to be ashamed of. A young girl like you - I mean not every girl does that, but you know what I'm saying!"
Lara didn't know what she was saying at all! What was with her choice of words? Terms like 'problem' 'ashamed' and 'young girl' all seemed like they were meant to help but just made things worse. The Tomb Liberator swore up and down that this was the last time she would masturbate here, but soon the boredom took over. She reasoned that Nurse Cerys wouldn't come back so soon after her last visit. And it really did help her sleep, not to mention the thrill of it. Lara talked herself into reaching a cautious hand down there, while she nestled into her comfie little corner, and started the process again despite all her weak misgivings.
The fact that she couldn't stick to her guns in even this minor but very intimate way had a cascading effect on the poor girl. It became a character defect, a source of shame, and giving in was so easy even though it reinforced all the negative self-talk that was increasingly prominent in her thinking nowadays.
Obviously, Lara knew all these things were inappropriate at best, and downright sadistic at worst. But it felt like each step had followed the previous one so smoothly, and the institution rewarded compliance and punished rebellion so much that it only made sense to cooperate. Her sense of time, and even reality had been warped by this place - and the long stay in solitary deprived her of the everyday decisions that she had taken for granted. Her only outlet was this specific thing - she had tried to exercise and meditate, but the institution would broadcast a sort of noise into her cell that she found rather grating until she gave up.
Thus, her new routine focused around coaxing a weak orgasm from her frustrated young body before the Nurse would return with more of the wipes for her eyeglasses, or to feed her, or whatever.
As she remained away from the classroom her anxiety grew about her eventual return. This was a particularly uncomfortable thing Lara had realized about herself: she was getting a little too accustomed to these strange rituals she performed in her cell. She was rescued by Nurse Cerys, who carried with her Lara's new school outfit.
There was a new collar, still a shock collar, but with the lettering "TEACHER'S PET" in block print on the front and back of it. She allowed Nurse Cerys to dress her, stepping into the tissue-thin white panties that were totally see-though. That followed by the tiniest skirt Lara had ever seen - still red plaid, but it ruffled out playfully and the slightest movement of her legs would be eye-catching. Next, the nurse put a frilly white garter around Lara's thigh, in such a way that it rested atop her tattoo. A red plaid ribbon secured it to her leg, and the effect of having something so soft constantly brush against her ink was distracting, to say the least.
