I shifted weakly in my restraints, hoping to find a more comfortable position on the bed I was restrained to. For the past several hours, I'd been lying on my back, immobilized by a latex straitjacket and leashed to the top of my bed frame. A leather strap connecting the front and back of the straitjacket ran uncomfortably between my naked legs. Fortunately, my feet were left unrestrained so I was able to curl in a fetal position to compensate for the lack of a blanket.
My cell-mate here at the kennel had been summoned by security guards about an hour and a half earlier, leaving me completely alone. Typically, I hated being alone. But not tonight. I found solitude preferable since it allowed me to wallow and sob as loudly as I wished. It hadn't even been a full night since Jodie had abruptly kicked me out but it felt as if days had passed. I couldn't ever remember feeling so hurt and confused. The events of the previous evening had all happened so fast. One moment, I was making Jodie a cup of coffee and the next I was soaking wet from the rain, checking myself back into the kennel.
Normally, I'd have taken an Ambien to take the edge off after such a horrible day. But self-medicating was now a privilege of the past. Here, I was a full-blown prisoner and my future had never felt more uncertain. And that uncertainty was taking an emotional toll. A few hours ago, I'd woken up to a full-blown panic attack. Medical staff quickly rushed in to untether me and helped me with deep breathing exercises. Eventually, once I regained my composure, I was returned to my straitjacket and leash and instructed to sleep. However, the staff must have taken pity on me because the straps were noticeably less strict than they had been earlier.
Given everything that had transpired, sleeping was easier said than done. For hours, I could only stare at the ceiling contemplating the horrors that awaited me when I eventually left this place. Tom Murphy, owner of the sex machine shop called Murphy's Hall, had purchased me several days ago at the auction. After accidentally poisoning me, he ended up getting thrown promptly into the kennel on charges of negligence. This meant that I, as well as Murphy's other slave, Tasha Quincy were required to serve the same stretch of time.
But to my relief, I was saved. Jodie swept in and saved me from the jaws of despair. She managed to strike a deal that allowed me to stay with her for the duration of Murphy's sentence. And not only that, she promised to buy me from Murphy as soon as his sentence was complete. Despite having only known her for a few days, I connected with Jodie more deeply than I could have thought possible. But none of that mattered anymore. Because she didn't feel the same way I felt about her and she ultimately sent me away.
The sound of the cell door sliding open snapped me out of my thoughts and prompted me to lift my head. Without my glasses, I had to squint to make out the two figures as they entered the cell. A security guard briskly led my cellmate, Tasha, toward a bed on the opposite side of the room by the leash. Tasha was a beautiful and toned black woman with a shaved head and she too was a slave of Tom Murphy. She was, by far, the toughest women I'd encountered in this place and seemed almost undaunted by everything that was happening to her. In a strange way, her resilience inspired me to be stronger. Or at least to
pretend
to be.
Tasha wore a black straitjacket matching the one I had on, but hers appeared smaller due to the larger size of her breasts. Once they reached the twin-size bed, the guard attached the end of the leash to a peg in the center of the horizontal bar at the top of the bed frame. After giving her a push, Tasha sat silently onto the bed as he proceeded to unbuckle her ring-gag and pull it from her mouth. As soon as it was free from her behind her teeth, she let out a relieved groan and worked her jaw open and closed.
Before turning to leave, the guard condescendingly patted Tasha's cheek with his hand. I could see Tasha's eyes close in suppressed rage as the man walked back to the entrance of the cell.
Stopping in the doorway, the guard gave the touchscreen on the wall a few taps. Suddenly, Tasha grunted as her predicament began to change. The horizontal bar that her leash had been connected to began to spin, effectively causing the leash to shorten as it spooled. To avoid being choked, Tasha laid down on the bed and scooted toward the top. Once there was about 10 inches of slack, the bar stopped spinning, allowing Tasha to cease her efforts to crawl any closer. She sighed as she rested the side of her face on the mattress.
"Current's live in three," the guard said before making a final tap to the touch screen and turning to leave.
I knew what this meant and quickly began scooting down as low as I could without being choked by my leash. As soon as I was able, I pressed the soles of my feet onto the horizontal steel bar at the base of the bed frame in order to avoid being pelted with electricity through my collar. So long as my feet were touching the bar, I'd be safe.
"
Fuck, fuck, fuck
!" I heard Tasha mutter from across the room. "Uh, little help here?" Tasha called to the guard as she squirmed frantically toward the foot of her bed. Her feet flailed as she desperately tried to make contact with the horizontal bar. "
Hello?!
"
Just then, I heard the cell door begin to slide shut, followed by Tasha's ear-piercing shriek. "AAAAAAHHHHHH!" She screamed, obviously feeling the effects of the electricity to her neck. "Did that fucker
seriously
leave?!" She screamed as her neck craned upward to buy herself another inch.
I watched helplessly as Tasha writhed in agony. Despite her grandest efforts, the tautness of her leash prevented her from moving far enough down the bed for her feet to reach the bar.
"Tasha, try to scoot toward me!" I called over urgently. "It looks like you'll have more slack if you scoot to your left." Screaming through gritted teeth, Tasha took my advice and rolled over to face me. Surely enough, it did seem to buy her a little bit of slack. Using that slack to scoot further down the bed, Tasha was finally able to stop shouting in pain as the tips of her big toes were able to make contact with the bar at the foot of her bed.
"
Fucker!!!
" Tasha hollered as she arched her back to further elongate herself. After a labored sigh, she added, "My shins are definitely gonna feel
this
tomorrow."
"I'm so sorry, Tasha," I replied.
Tasha gave a long frustrated sigh. "You know, I was actually excited when I found out that I was coming to the kennel. After everything Murphy's put me through this past week, I figured this might even feel a like a vacation. What a fuckin' fool I am." Unsure of how to console her, I didn't say anything. "How the panic attacks?" She added. "Have any more episodes since I left?
"Um, I feel a bit better now," I replied. "No more episodes."
"Shame," Tasha replied curtly.
"Sorry?" I asked, tilting my head in confusion.
"I mean, shame in the sense that it bought you some sympathy. Less than a minute after you started hyperventilating, the medical staff rushed in, untethered you, tended to your every need," she clarified. "I wish
I
knew how to hyperventilate like that."
"I wasn't faking," I stated, coming across more defensive than I'd intended.
"Oh, I didn't mean to imply you were," Tasha countered. "These collars don't sound the alarms for acting performances. Only for real emergencies." I stayed silent, unsure how to reply. Her implication that having a panic attack was preferable to
not
having one was supremely inaccurate. But not wishing to get into a debate, I decided to let it go.
"I'm sure panic attacks are no picnic," Tasha clarified. "I'm just saying that after your
episode
they cleared your schedule for the night."
I hesitated before replying, "They did?"
"Yep," Tasha replied. "Scheduled me for a double shift to let you rest."
A cloud of guilt suddenly descended upon me. "I'm- so sorry," I breathed.
"Ah, fuck it," Tasha replied. "It's nothing different from what I was doing before you got here."
"What did they do to you?" I asked hesitantly.
