The Repression Saga
by John Savage
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2009 - 2010 John Savage
Published by Strict Publishing International
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Book One
Chapter I
Innocent Girl Taken
They took her suddenly and unexpectedly. One minute she was walking along the road, nearing her home, then next strong arms were holding her as cold, hard steel cuffs bit into her wrists.
A cry escaped her lips until she saw the black uniforms and suddenly understood what was happening to her. Then her lips fell silent but a cold knot of pure fear formed in her stomach. Her legs grew weak and trembled. While one black uniform on each side of her held her tightly, the black robed priest stepped forward to stand before her.
“Miss Dawn Cranston,” he intoned somberly, “you are under arrest for heresy and other crimes against One World and God.” That formality over, he nodded to the guards and turned his back on the young woman.
A van pulled up to the sidewalk and the sliding door opened to disclose another guard and a silvery steel box, the front of which was opened wide. With ease the guards lifted her, turned her, and deposited her on the small seat within the box. With practiced efficiency, they pushed her feet in and locked another set of handcuffs upon her ankles. Those were attached to the floor by a very short chain. Another chain secured to the back wall at one end was wrapped around her waist and pull very tightly, and then locked back to the same ring it started from. She was tightly pressed against the back of the box, her handcuffed arms between her and the hard steel.
Dawn did not resist their restraining her body. She knew it would be of no use. Silent tears crept down her cheeks.
People passing by turned their heads so as not to see the taking of a citizen from off the street. Some turned around and walked quickly the other way. Even a couple of people from that neighborhood who knew the young girl turned away and said not a word.
With a snicker and wicked grin, one guard pulled her short skirt up and tucked it into the tight chain around her waist. Her legs and black panties were thus revealed, much to the delight of the guards. The same guard grabbed a handful of young breast and squeezed.
“Hey, you’ve got a nice set of knockers,” he informed her rudely. Then he dug his fingers in to the soft flesh hard enough to make her gasp. “Damned nice. We’ll have fun with you.”
Dawn could only shed tears to show the mental anguish within. She kept her face turned downward, refusing to meet their eyes. Instinctively she knew not to show any resistance or rebellion. Don’t give them a reason to hurt you, she had been told. But she had never thought that she would need the advice.
While one guard pushed down on the back of her head, another began closing the door to the metal box. With her head forced down, Dawn felt the chain cutting even more into her middle until breathing was difficult. Then the door was closed. She could hear locks clicking shut on the outside.
The hard metal above her kept her head forced down in a very uncomfortable position, her chin pressed against her chest. She was very much aware of the narrowness of the box and the steel walls so close to her on all sides. Adding to her discomfort was the fact that there was no light inside.
She had seen this box used before, but on other people. She knew they called it a Transportation Box. It was designed to make escape impossible, but also to make the journey most uncomfortable. The steel cuffs cut into her wrists painfully. She made one attempt to move a hand around to pull her skirt out of the chain so her private parts would be covered, but her reaching fingers could not approach anywhere near the bunched up skirt. And it hurt to try. She gave up. She prayed that it would be a short journey, but she had little hope for her future.
In the dark she softly sobbed out her misery.
* * * * *
It was a time of repression; a time of crushed freedoms and mangled laws. All forms of dissent were banned and that ban was cruelly enforced upon the population. One theology had come to rule the land and you either adhered to it with all your heart or you suffered under its stifling might. “Land of the Free” no longer echoed through the halls of authority nor through the minds of the people. Another Dark Age had come to human history.
What had once been a shining model of civilization and reason was now a rigidly regimented life, rife with fear. Even the name that once stood for hope was no more. The United States of American was only Zone 11 of One World. True, the uniting of the world under one government has brought an end to the horror and destruction of war. Hunger was, for the most part, eliminated. Diseases were being pushed back and the violence of nature was being tamed slowly. Some would argue that the world was a better place now. But at what price?
You obeyed, did your job, did not question, and dared not even think against Control. Do those things and you lived. Those who did not were dealt with quickly and harshly.
The world, all school children were taught, had been a dreadful place. Thousands and millions starved. Neighbor fought against neighbor under those illogical divisions called countries. Or races. Or beliefs. It had taken a third world war to teach all that we were truly one people, one world. Sides had been taken and the violence grew with frightening speed. It had been a religious war; one of the endless string of such that man had so loved all his time on earth. The Muslim world united against the Christians. That was a gross over-simplification, of course, but it was as good an explanation as any. Some would say it was really over resources: oil, water, land. But it was under the banners of Islam and the Cross that the armies marched.
The conclusion as predictable as it was extreme. The technology of the Christians won out. But to this day there are many areas where no man dares set foot, and will not be able to for thousands of years.
When the last shot had been fired, and the world struggled through a generation of poisonous clouds drifting over the landscape and millions more deaths, the theology of the victors was purified, made rigid, strong and unbending, and became the Law. You will worship in the right way, the only way. You will perform your duties without question. You will not doubt for a second that what the Law tells you is absolute Truth. You will obey. All this was necessary to please God and to ensure the tranquility and survival of the global community.
And no one – No One – was to question, let alone take the slightest action against the One World Law. Retaliation must be swift and sure.
It was into this world there came an innocent.
She was born the usual way, one hundred and sixteen years after the Day of the Nukes, on July twenty-forth, three days after the world holiday celebrating the victory. Nothing special about this baby. The tests proved she was not defective, was reasonably intelligent and had none of the usual genetic markers of future physical problems. Having passed, she was turned over to her parents to be raised and trained for her place in One World.
She grew, repeated her lessons in school, and showed no indication of anti-social behavior. She marched in the school parades and sang the approved songs with the rest of the children. She showed an aptitude for math and sciences but because there was a surplus of scientific personnel projected for the immediate future, she was routed to General Ed where she was taught how to be a good house-maker and mother. A secondary track taught her electronic assembly in case there was a future need for more of them. But it was unlikely the projections could be wrong, so that track consisted of only a few courses.
She had been named Dawn by her parents. That name had been approved by Control so it remained with her. Had there been too many Dawns born that year, Control would have picked another for her. It avoided the confusion of having too many people with the same name.
The school psychologist suggested that Dawn was not producing grades as high as they should be based on her intelligence, possibly because she expressed dissatisfaction with the curriculum for General Ed. Her parents requested that she be put into the Science Track, but they were overridden because more scientists were simply not needed. Instead she was made to attend Special Ed classes to adjust her attitude. Being intelligent, probably much more so than they suspected, she realized what was going on and conformed so well that she was excused the Special Ed classes after only two months. But inside her, the terrible seeds of discontent had been sown.
Dawn grew into a very beautiful young woman. Her mother had been short but Dawn was almost as tall as some of the boys. As her body filled out and curves developed, it became obvious that she was going to be a very fine looking woman. Her long black hair and dark eyes gave her a mysterious, slightly foreign, appearance even though her parents had been standard stock. Her sensual good looks and fine figure caught the eye of many men. The school principle plotted ways he might have her assigned as a worker at his school. More than one Church official made plans for this girl as soon as she reached the right age. She was unaware of any of this, although she knew that boys seemed to be attracted to her. She found most of them boring and crude.
As she neared eighteen years of age, Dawn made a mistake. She made friends with one of the girls at school. Her name was Angelique, a name Dawn thought was much prettier than her own. They talked about boys, making clothing at home, and what kind of a man they might be assigned as a husband. As soon as they turned eighteen, all girls were assigned a husband. Control, the administrative arm of One World, did this. Assigning a life-long partner was too important a job to leave up to chance or to the selection of her parents. Or, heaven forbid, the girl herself. Control had massive databases on everyone. From those they could pick a very compatible partner. Compatible, of course, with the needs of One World. The girls usually did not meet the boy until the day of the wedding.
The Church still conducted all marriages. It was ritual and ceremony designed to make the couple feel that their union was a contribution to the good of all. God, through his priests, approved and smiled down upon them. The ritual was to impress upon them, as it had all their lives, the importance of conformity and of obeying God’s will.
Dawn, already having noticed that a few of the boys, very few, were nicer than the others. A couple she even felt an attraction towards. But the chance of one of those boys being picked for her was very remote. The match selected might well be with someone from another part of One World, and she would find herself shipped off far from her home. There was only one language spoken the world over; that had been one of the first steps taken to make One World a reality. But there were still some cultural differences and adapting might be hard.
This did not seem right to her. It seemed logical that a woman should be able to pick the man with whom to spend her life. Dawn openly said this to Angelique, adding that there were other parts of their rigid society that did not seem right to her. Like why she could not study the sciences that interested her so much. Angelique nodded and was sympathetic, but careful in what she said aloud.
A short time later, two weeks before her wedding day to a still unknown male, Dawn was arrested and found herself being transported in shackles and a steel box to an unknown but greatly feared fate. Those picked up by Control never returned. Never.
As she swayed and bounced inside her box, Dawn realized that there was only one person who could have turned her in: Angelique. Unless some of the rumors were true. Some said that Control guards occasionally picked up a person at random and hauled them off. This was so that there would always be arrests to keep a good, healthy fear in the population.
Her back ached and her stomach hurt from the chain cutting in. When the truck stopped, she was both glad the trip was over and fearful of what might lay ahead. There were metallic sounds around her, then a jolt and she was moving again. But now the movement felt different. It took her a moment to realize that she was not moving with the van. Apparently her box had been detached from the van and was being moved someplace unknown. It made her feel uneasy to be treated like a piece of cargo, not a human being.
The box stopped and for a long time she heard no noises. Had they left her alone? She had expected to be removed from the box and brought before a judge or priest or something. But to be left sitting in the dark and discomfort was worse. It brought home to her just how helpless she was. They could do anything they wanted to her. Being left to suffer in the box was just one of the options. And there was nothing she could do about it.
Time loses meaning when you are in darkness and alone. The longer she sat there, the more uncertain she was of how long it had been. Minutes turned into hours, at least in her mind. And then more hours. A mild panic washed over her with the idea that this was what happened to those arrested. They were simply left alone in a Transportation Box. Locked away in some room where no one would ever go, the prisoners were abandoned. She wondered how long it would be before she starved to death? Then she reasoned that she would probably dehydrate before starving. And she also wondered if she would go insane first. The fear, the discomfort that would certainly turn to agony as the hours crept by, all would press against her mind, until it drove logic and reason from her.
Dawn fought to keep from calling out. If they expected her to call for help, to beg and plead, they would be disappointed. She vowed not to give them the satisfaction of knowing how frightened she was. It was an easy vow to make at that point. But later, when the pain increased and she became convinced that abandonment was truly her fate, maybe then she would be yelling herself hoarse.
In the darkness, her thoughts turned to her parents. Her father was a mousy little man who quaked at the mention of Control. But she loved him. He made her laugh and read stories to her. They were officially approved stories but it was her father who read them and that made them special. Her mother was a stronger woman but still law-abiding and living in fear of accusations, true or false, that might destroy her life or the lives of those she loved. What would they think? They would worry when she was not home on time? Of course. But there had been enough people on the street. Someone was sure to tell her parents what had happened. They would then know that they would never see their daughter again.
Grim were the tales passed around in school about those who disappeared. They were killed, cut up into pieces and served in the cafeteria, so one rumor had it. Another related how the men would be used as slave labor animals while the women would be put into special concentration camps where they would be used sexually by the Control guards. Some said that the people were taken to an island where they were shoved off the boat and had to swim ashore to live as savages for the rest of their lives. There were some who maintained that the missing were merely “re-educated” and transplanted somewhere else.
Dawn always through that the sex camps for woman made the most sense. From the way schoolboys tried to get their hands on her, and the manner in which some adult males patted her bottom or grabbed at her breasts or tried to force her into something she knew she did not want, it was obvious that sex was a strong motivation to males. And since all Control guards and all priests were males, well, it just made sense.
Dawn had been careful. A girl who has sex with boys before the wedding day was punished. Especially if she became pregnant. Those girls disappeared – just as Dawn had now disappeared. Some of the girls said that they had sex with the boys and that it was pretty good. But they were careful about contraception. They would not go to their weddings in a virginal state, but they were unlikely to suffer for it. Most of the assigned males probably did not really understand what virginity was and were unlikely to know it if it reared up and bite them.
So she wondered. If she were sent to a sex camp, would they use her, being a virgin? The answer was not hard to figure out. They would. And after the first time, it did not matter anyway. After years of being told virginity was a special gift a girl gave to her husband, it was difficult to think of it as merely a quick moment and then of no importance.
Hours crept by and Dawn became convinced that to remain in this box was indeed to be her fate. Darkness, pain and ultimately a very slow but painful death. The grumbling in her stomach told her that hours were indeed passing and she had at least missed the evening meal. But then, she would miss every meal now. Never to see food again. Never again would she see her parents or their apartment. Never even to see the sun. So lost was she in wondering if they would even give her a proper burial that she almost missed the sounds of keys in locks.
Bright light suddenly flooded over her as the front of the Transportation Box swung open.
Stiff muscles in her neck made it painful to lift her head and the light kept her blinking for a few moments. Eventually she made out three figures standing before her. The black-robed priest she had never seen before. On each side of him stood a Control Guard, anonymous in their black uniforms and shades.
Dawn wished she could move a hand around to lower her skirt but the chain and cuffs remained on her. It was an odd feeling to have strange men staring at her bare legs and the simple black panties covering her private parts, a feeling she did not like.
The priest nodded to the guard on his left and the man strode forward until he was within reach of the captive girl. From his belt he extracted a small knife, and he used it to cut the buttons from her blouse one by one. Then he slit the material across to one arm and down the sleeve. He repeated it with the other arm. Dawn could do nothing but sit there as the remains of her blouse were pulled off and tossed aside. The knife made quick work of the bra. The revealed breasts were full and firm and smooth as only a young woman can be.
Her skirt had come free from the chain around her waist when the blouse was pulled out, so for a few moments part of her thighs were covered. That condition quickly ended as the knife made ruins of her skirt. She tried to hold onto the skirt behind her but it was ripped from her hand.
She began crying again. Protests would gain her nothing, she was sure. Likewise pleading and begging. Tears were her only means of expressing the discomfort of being almost totally naked before these men. The other guard came forward with keys and unlocked her ankles from their shackles. The waist chain was next, leaving Dawn with only the handcuffs holding her arms behind her.
“Stand up, girl,” said the priest in what most people would have called a kindly voice.
“Sir…” she began, then changed the title, “Father, please tell me what is happening? I have done nothing wrong! I am loyal to One World and God. I go to church…”
She was cut off by a wave of his hand. “It is too late for you to protest,” he said. “The Church has been given evidence that you have questioned God’s will. That is enough.”
“But…”
“Silence.” His voice remained calm, as if he were talking to a school child. “Do not speak. You have been found guilty and will undergo purification and penance.”
Dawn did not like the sound of that and started to speak again. But again she was cut off.
“One more word and you will be gagged.” He made it sound as if he would be doing her a favor.
Dawn swallowed. This just was not fair! She had tried to be obedient and dutiful to both the world government and the Church. She had been careful in what she said. Only a few times had her inner thoughts been given voice, and then only to friends she thought she could trust. Hell, she had heard worse comments from other girls!
“Step out of the box, sinner,” he said mildly.
Dawn stepped down the few inches to the floor and stood there, very fearful of what would come next.
“Take that last piece of clothing from her,” the priest told a guard.
Dawn backed up as the hand reached for her panties. This was just too much! Without a thought to the repercussions of her actions, she turned to flee. And ran right into the arms of the other guard.
Apparently he had been expecting this action. As he held her arms tightly, the other guard ripped the thin fabric from her loins. For a long time no one said a word. The men seemed fascinated by the black furry patch revealed. Or maybe it was the whole body on display for them. She was certainly worth looking at.
“Please, Father, please! At least let me have some clothes!”
At a gesture from the priest, one guard removed something from a pocket and, while the other guard held her firmly, he forced a metal bar into her mouth. The bar was half an inch thick and was firmly in place before she realized what was happening. There were two small chains attached to each side of the bar. Those were brought together behind her head and locked together with a small lock, but not before being pulled as tightly as the guard could. Dawn found herself most uncomfortably gagged. Her tongue was pushed down, and the hard edges of the bar crushing the soft flesh at the corners of her mouth.
“If you do not obey, we can do much more to you,” the priest informed her. “Much more.”
She believed him.
“You will be dressed as befits a sinner,” he continued. “And then you will be taken to a place where you will begin purification.”
With a guard on each side, she was forced to march away from the Transport Box to another part of the room. For the first time, she noticed where she had been taken. The room reminded her of the school cafeteria. It was fairly large and twice as long as wide. There were, she realized with a shock, four more Transportation Boxes. One, to the left of the one that had brought her in was also open and empty. The other three were to the right and closed. She had to wonder what was inside them. Where they empty? Or did each hold a prisoner, helpless and afraid, as she had been. And still was, for that matter.
There was a table with a dozen boxes on it. Each cardboard box had a number written upon it. The priest studied her careful for a moment, then went to the box with the number eight written on it. From within he took something small and shiny black. He tossed it to one guard.
Working together as if they had performed this ritual many times, one guard held her arms while the other lifted one foot and inserted it the black garment. When her other foot had been also inserted into it, she realized that it was, more or less, a pair of panties. But as they were pulled up her legs, she realized two additional facts. First was that it was made of rubber. It stretched. The second thing was that it was way too small for her.
But the guard pulled and tugged and managed to force the too-small panties over her hips. When he was finished smoothing them out, she realized that they were too small for a reason. They fitted tightly! Very tightly around her hips, butt and Venus Mons. It was as if she were being squeezed. And the rubber material failed to cover very much of her private part. She could see where her black, shiny pubic hair stuck out around the rubber edge.
The priest handed a pair of shoes to the guard. But it was a pair of shoes unlike anything Dawn had ever seen before. Unlike the flat student shoes, these sported slender, very tall high heels! And the shoes exposed much more of her foot than they covered. The guards sat her on the table and one held her leg while the other fitted the shoe onto her. It was too small and her foot had to be forced inside. There was a slender strap around her ankle with a buckle. A small lock was placed through the tiny circle at the end of the buckle tongue and locked. She could not have taken it off even if she had free hands and could work at it. The other shoe was likewise forced onto her foot and then she was set upon her feet.
And at once she almost fell over! The shoes lifted her heels at least four inches above the floor, forcing her to almost stand on her toes. Having never worn anything like this before, it took her a minute just to learn how to stand still. It did not help her balance that her arms were still secured in handcuffs behind her back.
Which was something her captors were about to address. One unlocked the handcuffs from her wrists. For a few seconds Dawn stood there, rubbing her sore wrists and grateful for having those things off her.
“Handcuffs are efficient,” the priest told her, “but entirely too comfortable for sinners. You are to be in constant pain as a reminder of your status. Guards!”
It was so fast that Dawn did not realize what was happening to her. One second she was trying to stand still without falling, the next second her arms were behind her back and she could feel rope being wrapped around them. As the ropes went on and she felt her elbows being pulled together, she realized that what he had said was true. Handcuffs were more comfortable. More comfortable than having her arms bound tightly behind her.
They tied with expert cruelty and efficiency. Her wrists were quickly bound together, then her elbows. Then, another piece of the slender rope was looped around her waist and pulled tightly, forcing her arms hard against her back. That rope encircled her waist half a dozen times, and then was cinched down tightly and knotted even more tightly. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. Her arms were denied her. All she could do was wiggle her fingers as they were held down just above her ass.
She was helpless now but they were not yet finished with her. They set her on the table and bound her ankles tightly together. Then they bound her just above her knees. For some reason, her mind wondered why the rope above her knees was a little looser than the other ropes upon her body. Everything else they did was extra tight.
She found out. While still sitting on the table she was rotated until she was lying on her side. Then the strong hands folded her at the waist until her knees were pushed against her chin and her bare breasts against her legs. Ropes were wrapped around her legs and torso, holding her in that folded position. A dozen windings of rope wrapped around her arms at the elbows and behind her knees. Because of the bending of her body, the rope around her waist cut in, reminding her of the chain in the Transportation Box.
Not content to fold her up, they also tied a rope to that already around her ankles and pulled it back under her ass and to her wrists. A couple times the rope passed that way, and then it was slowly pulled taut. Her legs folded at the knees with her feet coming down towards her ass. Their strength prevailed over her body not wanting to be folded into a ball and, when the final knots were tied, her feet were touching her thighs and she was as small a ball as a woman can be folded into.
The ropes hurt. Not terribly, but painfully. What scared her most was wondering how long they were going to leave her tied like this. If it was anywhere near as long as she had been in the Transportation Box, she would be very miserable.
A metal box was brought over and set on the table next to her bound body. It looked very much like a large suitcase. But there was no handle, and there were holes, apparently air holes, cut into the sides. Dawn’s heart sank when she saw that, for she knew immediately the purpose of that box. It was another form of the Transportation Box; this one designed to hold a woman tied into a ball.
She was, of course, correct. They picked up her balled up body and placed it in the box. A little pushing and shoving was necessary since the box was really not quite big enough for a girl of her size. But they crammed her in and closed the lid. Once again her head was forced down by the metal walls of her new prison. Only, this time her chin was pressed against her knees. She heard the snap of padlocks and knew that, even if she could somehow escape the ropes, she would still be a prisoner. She wanted to cry but no tears came. There was only despair.
Book One
Chapter II
Welcome to Saint Secundina’s
Small amounts of light crept into her metal prison through the air holes, but the position of her head allowed her no view of her surroundings. All the poor girl knew was that it was a long trip. And that she was very uncomfortable.
Motion was almost constant, that much she could feel. Occasionally there were pauses when her container rested but unlike the long hours spent in the Transportation Box, these motionless periods were very brief. At first she remained on her right side, the position they had placed her in. But a few times her box was turned so that she was sitting on her bottom, and a few times even on her back. Whoever was manhandling her box around did not seem to really care which side should be up. Or maybe, since lying on her bound arms was more uncomfortable, it was an additional and deliberate part of her punishment. Because her body filled the narrow confines, she did not move within the box, only felt the changing stresses as her positions altered. For a while she assumed that her being bounced around and placed in different positions was random, but after a while she realized that only once had she been placed in a head down position, and that for less than a minute.
There were noises. Clanking and bangs and voices. Sometimes she could make out words but never were they directed to her. Mostly it was instructions to place the box here or there. Or chatting on unrelated subjects. The voices ceased at the same time as there was a change in the way she was being handled. Now she lay on her bound arms, it was darker, and she could sense constant motion. Those clues, plus the sound of a motor, gave her to know that she was again being transported in a truck or something like that.
The ride took a long time. With nothing else to do, Dawn tried to work free of the ropes. Of course, she had no idea what she would do if she could manage to free herself of them. She would still be a prisoner inside the metal box. But part of her wanted to try to do something. It did not sit easy upon her mind to simply lie there and accept whatever fate had in store.
Her fingers explored the very limited range they had. The tight ropes around her wrists restricted her hand movement, but what was more limiting was the fact that her hands were partly numb from the pressure of those ropes tightly wrapped around her arms at the elbows. As well as holding her arms tight against her body, the ropes restricted the flow of blood in her arms and gave rise to a cold and sluggish feeling in her fingers. She wondered if some kind of damage might be done to her hands if the ropes remained on her too long. But the numbness remained constant and she could move her fingers, so maybe her captors had gauged exactly how tightly a girl could be bound.
She finally gave up all attempts to work free. The only rope she could feel was that running from her wrists down to her ankles. It was taut and she could feel no knots. Pulling and tugging her arms accomplished nothing. She was forced to lie there, quite uncomfortable, and to endure. Anger alternated with fear in her mind. She knew now that they did not intend to kill her outright. But what was “purification and penance?” Maybe if she renounced her protests against the marriage laws and promised to be a good, obedient wife and citizen, they would let her go.
Even as those thoughts gave rise to hope, she knew it was not likely. Of all the people she knew who had been arrested and disappeared, no one had ever reappeared. If they purified people of sinful thoughts and made them into correct-thinking, good citizens, would it not be to their advantage to release them back into the neighborhoods they came from as a lesson to others? Role models or something like that? But she had never heard of a single case of that happening. It would lead one to assume that either those taken were never released or they were released someplace so far from their former homes that they could never return. Something was rotten in the State of Denmark, to quote a play she once read.
Dawn had no idea how much time had passed since she had been snatched on her way home. But from the discomfort in her stomach and her tiredness, surely many hours had passed. She had been walking home when the black uniforms grabbed her, about three o’clock. Dinner had certainly been missed. Her best guess was that it would be rather late by now, perhaps even midnight. She prayed that she would soon be free of this metal box and these terrible ropes. But even as she did, she realized that her praying was only habit. She was not really praying in sincere belief and certainly not expecting that God would help her. Having never really thought about it, Dawn suddenly realized that she had never really believed. She had gone to church, repeated the Bible lessons, sang the songs, dutifully performed all the rituals of a believer. But inside, had she really believed? Now, at the one moment of her life when she needed belief and faith in an all-powerful being who would protect her, she found that faith lacking.
In the turmoil of a mind pushed towards its limits, she wanted to believe. True belief would save her. True belief would prevail and she would become the proper citizen she should be. Then, they would cease punishing her, and “purification and penance” would not be needed. But true belief did not come to her. She realized with a heavy heart that it had never been with her.
Dawn was half way between consciousness and sleep when it came to her that the motion and noise had stopped. So had the sounds. Some hope flared that finally she would be allowed out of the box and untied. It would be wonderful, a victory of sorts amid a flood of defeat. But the hope died as long minutes stretched out with no indication that anyone was near her, let alone about to unlock her box. The ropes continued to dig into her flesh and the metal bar chained into her mouth continued to make her jaw ache. It also made her drool on herself because she could not swallow properly. And she had found that being forced to wear those high-heeled shoes made her arched feet ache terribly.
She wanted to cry again but it seemed too much effort.
Then voices came faintly into her prison. As they grew louder, she began to make out words.
“What’s this? Oh, crap, another one.”
Then a different voice, “It’s three o’clock in the morning. Hell, I don’t feel like processing another one in. Let’s just leave it and let the morning shift take care of it. They’ll be here in four hours.”
“Yeah, she’s not going anywhere. Let’s get coffee.”
There followed crude laughter, and then the sound of footsteps fading away.
Dawn made whining noises around the bar in her mouth and wished she could shout angry words. It was doubtful that the two men walking away heard her distress. Even if they had, they would have done nothing about it. Why put out the effort? She would still be lying inside that metal box when the morning shift came in.
It was a big surprise to Dawn when she heard voices again and realized that she had been asleep.
“The swing shift left a package for us.”
About the time the first locks were being opened, Dawn was fully awake and aware of hands moving her box, also aware of aching and stiff muscles over most of her body.
The bright light made her blink so she really did not see the faces of the two men who lifted her out of the box and set her down on a metal table.
“Packing looks okay,” one commented. “Go ahead and call the Mother Superior’s office and tell them they’ve got a new one.”
As one man closed her box and stacked it against a wall where there were half a dozen others, the other man checked her over. He felt her hands, checked each and every knot and rope on her body, and even shook the lock on her gag chain. “Okay,” he muttered to himself. “No circulation problems, no restraint problems.” Then he slipped a hand in between her thigh and body to cup one breast. “Hey, nice set of knockers,” was his comment.
He began to unknot the rope between her wrists and ankles, taking his time and humming to himself. Dawn found it painful to straighten her neck after having had her head bent forward for so long. Then the rope loosened and her legs began to unfold, an action that brought pain to joints and muscles locked too long in one position. The ropes holding her folded in half were removed, and for the first time in hours she was able to straighten her body.
Thankful for the lessening of some of her pain, she looked up into his eyes. He was a little older than most of the guards she had seen, but still wore the black uniform. It was just a little tighter across the middle than most. She whined and tried to show him the metal bar in her mouth.
“I can’t do any more until the nun arrives,” he told her. “Get used to it. You’re going to have to live with ropes and chains and gags for a long time.”
Dawn frowned. If she were finally at the place they were sending her for “purification and penance” why was it necessary to keep her bound up like a wild animal? Surely this place was like a prison? The cells and walls kept the prisoners in, not ropes and gags.
There was a noise, and the guard turned to throw a smart salute to the newcomer. Dawn tilted her head to see who it was.
The woman was wearing black, but Dawn immediately realized that it was not a guard uniform. It was… Well, Dawn did not know what to call it. The whole suit was made of leather and fitted its owner like a second skin. With a high and tight neckline, it covered almost every bit of skin, yet made the woman sexier then full nudity would have done. The fair-sized mounds of the top told of breasts at least as large as Dawn’s. The waist was slender and flared nicely out to the hips. Dawn could not see below that, but she just knew that those leather-clad legs ended in high heels. They clicked on the concrete floor as she walked up. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. Dawn could see no earrings, nor any make-up. The young woman had deep blue eyes and over-sized lips that made her seem to pout.
As the two guards stood by, this woman walked slowly around the newly arrived guest. Dawn had never felt so strange under the gaze of another woman before. She was simply not used to being looked at like a piece of beef or a prized animal. She shuddered under that predatory gaze; it made her feel like a mouse cornered by a cat. The woman reached out and pulled one of the pubic hairs sticking out from the tight rubber panties. Dawn uttered a small noise as the hair was yanked out of her skin. It was not a lot of pain, but it was unexpected.
“Untie her legs,” she ordered.
Dawn was glad to hear the order. Next, she truly hoped, would be her arms, which hurt much more than her legs.
The two men easily pulled her up to a sitting position at the edge of the table, and began unknotting the ropes with difficulty. The prior guards had finished the bondage of this girl with seriously tight knots. As the ropes were peeled from her flesh, Dawn was amazed to see the deep, red marks left behind. They had been put on tightly enough, but being folded up as she was had made them cut in all the more.
As they were removing the ropes, Dawn suddenly saw something that frightened her a lot. In the gloved hands of this woman was a short, black leather whip! The slender whip was only two feet long, and it ended with a thinner strip of leather. Dawn had no real way of knowing about such things but instinct told her that such a whip would hurt.
Her legs free, Dawn waited for them to start on her arms. They did not. Instead, the woman nodded to them. “Take her to the prep room.”
She was carried to the prep room. There was no question about whether or not her legs would take her weight and allow her to walk. She was simply picked up, one guard on each side, and carried off through an open door. There were cabinets and a couple chairs, but the main attraction in that room was a table much like the examining table in a doctor’s office. It was a little longer than Dawn and a little wider. She was immediately lifted up and placed on it. She thought she saw some straps attached to the sides of the table.
“Strap down her top part,” came the order. The guards were already doing just that. Placed on her bound arms, leather straps were quickly wrapped over Dawn’s torso. One just above and one just below her breasts, another at her waist. There was even one across her neck. All were pulled down tightly and buckled.
“Pull those panties off.”
Again, as if anticipating the order, they were already reaching for her. Dawn tried to pull her legs together, but one man forced her knees apart while the other slipped his finger into the very tight waistband and pulled. It took a bit of struggling for the rubber panties were indeed far too small even such slender hips as hers. Deliberately or otherwise, he managed to pull out a few more pubic hairs along with the panties.
When they released her, Dawn closed her knees to deny them a view of her private part. They both snickered at that tiny act of rebellion. But then, they knew what was coming.
“Come on, you know what to do next!” came the sharp order. Those sparkling blue eyes looked as if they might be happy using that whip on the guards.
They did know. Each took an ankle, pulled her legs apart until the knees were just over the edges of the table, and then pulled down so her legs from the knee down were pressed against the sides of the table. There was a strap waiting for each ankle and in a few seconds Dawn’s legs were held wide apart.
The two guards stood at the end of the table giving them the best view of the goodies on display. They seemed eager for the next stage of this procedure.
“I’ll do it, boys,” the nun said. She was taking a few items from a drawer. “I wouldn’t want you cutting off something important.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” If they were disappointed, it did not show too much. At least she allowed them to stay and watch.
The items set on the table between Dawn’s legs were simple. A mug, a brush and a razor. The mug had a cake of soap in the bottom; the brush was round and only a few inches long with a plastic handle. And the razor was the cheap disposable kind.
The nun took the mug to a sink and added a small amount of water. Then she lathered up the soap with the brush. Dawn could not see what was going on, but she felt the cold soap as it was applied to her pubic area. The soap was rubbed into the thick black patch, taking care not to miss any part. Dawn could only wonder what was going on, for the idea of shaving off a girl’s pubic patch would never have occurred to her.
With the target well lathered, the mug and brush went into the sink and the razor was picked up. Dawn still could not see what was going on but she felt it as the first touch of the razor began cutting her patch. She eeked as well as a girl can eek with a metal bar in her mouth, and tried to shift her hips. The straps, of course, prevented any motion. Carefully, but with swift, practiced strokes the furry forest was rapidly reduced. The razor was wiped occasionally on a towel, which was then dampened and used to wipe off the excess lather.
“There you are,” the nun said with pride. “One nice, smooth little pussy ready to use and abuse.”
The guards chuckled.
“Ahhggg! Verrrr!” Dawn was trying to tell them she was a virgin. She did not like that “use and abuse” line.
“You trying to tell us you’re a virgin?” the nun asked.
Dawn nodded vigorously.
The nun smiled wickedly. “Oh, joy! They’re more fun! Aren’t they boys?”
She reached down to pat the newly denuded pubic mound. “Don’t worry. We won’t hold it against you for being a virgin. In fact, that will entitle you to a special treat.” There was a lot in common with her smile and a cat playing with a mouse.
“Let’s move this show along,” the nun said. “Get those panties back on her. Have to dress her befitting her status here at Saint Secundina’s, right?”
They were already releasing the straps from her ankles. As they lifted her legs to pull the panties down them towards her waist, Dawn got the first glimpse of her newly bald pussy. She was shocked. It did not seem possible but she felt more naked than she had a minute ago!
As the panties settled into place, the guard let go of the waistband after pulling it as far out as it would go. It snapped against the soft flesh of her flank with a loud smack.
“Get her on her feet.” They obeyed, releasing the straps and pulling the newly shaved girl to her feet. And it was necessary for them to hold her. She was still wearing the high heel that were locked on her feet and, between those and the rough treatment her legs had been getting all night, she could hardly stand.
“Okay, you can take the ropes and the gag off.”
Dawn wanted to whine with happiness.
She did moan, however, as the rope came off and circulation returned to her arms. She cried out when the metal gag pulled from her mouth and she found that she could not close her jaw. She finally managed it, but the process was painful. Eventually she was standing there, free of all restraints and the pins-and-needles feeling fading away. She almost said thank you, but she was not sure if her mouth would work. Her jaw was not feeling at all normal.
Freedom, she was quick to discover, was a fleeting moment in time at Saint Secundina’s; something rarely experienced and to be savored while it lasted. In this case, it was about two minutes. While she stood there swaying on unsteady feet, they locked handcuffs on her wrists behind her. Strangely enough, she really did not care. They were more comfortable than the ropes had been; that was all she could think about.
Then they dressed her – well, sort of. There was band of rubber, about eight inches wide and a few feet long. On each end there were two leather straps sown onto it. While one guard held her handcuffed arms high up behind her, the other guard and nun placed the rubber band around her breasts. The straps went at the back where they were fitted into each other so the “garment” could be pulled tightly around her chest. On the front side, there were two holes cut exactly where her nipples were. The holes were large enough to allow a couple inches of her breast to protrude. As the band was pulled tighter and tighter, it squashed her breasts until they were strangely misshapen. The pressure also forced that portion of her breasts sticking through the holes to elongate until they looked like small balloons stuck here.
The final touch was another set of handcuffs, this time locked on just above her elbows. It forced her arms together behind her but not touching. It was a strangely comfortable yet awkward way to be secured. But it was the way her breasts were squashed that made her feel most strange. And the two protrusions sticking straight out… She had never felt anything like that before.
“Am I…” Dawn began but was immediately cut off by a sudden pain on her left flank. She looked down to see a red mark forming.
“Do not talk unless told to,” the nun told her. “You are here for penitence and purification and… Well, some other stuff too. The Mother Superior will explain all. And don’t get any fancy thoughts about your rights as a citizen. Under Chapter IV, section 18 of the One World Charter, you are no longer a citizen. You are a sinner.”
The nun grinned as she swished the whip back and forth at the level of Dawn’s protruding breasts.
“You will remain in this status for the rest of your life.”
Feeling her heart sink, Dawn tried to swallow but her mouth was dry.
“One more little matter to attend to and then you are finished with your preparation. Guards!”
The guards grinned as they picked her up and carried her back out to the reception room and through another doorway. While the other room had seemed like a medical office, this one was like a dungeon. There was a wooden rail about waist high in the middle of the room and a propane-fueled barbeque in one corner. Flames were dancing in the barbeque.
“What?!” Dawn began, but she was hushed by another flash of pain across her ass.
Without command, the guards dragged her to the rail, bent her over it and, while one held her head to keep her in that position, the other looped a thick rope around her neck and tied it down to a ring in the floor. Then they both went around behind her and each took an ankle. Lifting and pulling, they spread her legs into a very wide “V” shape, and then secured those ankles in that position with additional ropes. Within a couple minutes Dawn was bent in half and resting upon the rail. Her toes barely touched the floor on one side while the rope around her neck was quite snug.
“This branding iron,” the nun began, “has metal slugs set into a bar arrangement. On each slug is a number. The seven slugs have the numbers assigned to you. Let me see… Hmmmm. You are number 8233881. You are no longer Dawn whatever. To identify you from now on, this number will be branded onto you.”
“No!” cried Dawn. “You can’t!”
The nun and guards had heard all possible protests before. They had heard how important girls were, how God would protect them, how they just COULD NOT possibly do such a terrible thing to a girl, and many other complaints. They had heard screams and moans and cries of disbelief. And they had heard every plea imaginable, from money offers to promises to perform sexual acts that were very probably impossible anyway.
The branding iron was glowing red. Even with seven digits, it was not really large, maybe three inches long by an inch wide. The nun checked the number on the branding iron against the invoice and nodded to the guard holding the iron. He turned and brought the hot end up near the soft flesh of Dawn’s ass. The other guard was holding aside the rubber panties to expose enough skin to accommodate the number. Dawn could feel the heat as it approached her bottom and cried out loudly.
As her mind raced for something to say that might avoid this terror, she realized that her mental processes had frozen. She was unable to think of anything. She did not even try to move her bottom away from the heat -- not that it would have done her much good if she had tried.
With a practiced move, the guard plunged the hot metal against the virgin flesh. It would have been fun to do it slowly and watch as she squirmed and screamed in agony as the heat increased, but he knew that doing it quickly made a much cleaner impression of the numbers. And that was his job after all; to mark this sinner with her number, not simply to hurt her. There would be plenty of other occasions to cause her pain, and plenty of other people to do that job.