Rest and Relaxation
HouseOfLostDolls@aol.com

www.evil-dolly.com
Copyright Evil Dolly 2005. All rights reserved.

Prologue

            So you want to hear my story? My side of things? I don’t know why. I can’t imagine there’s anything about what happened that you don’t already know. Or do you just want to record it for posterity? Why? Who’s ever going to read it? And why would anyone want to? Maybe it would be good to get it off my chest, but… don’t you know how hard this for me? Not just in that it’s hard to remember everything that happened years ago, but it’s painful, too.

            Alright. I’ll try. I just can’t believe you want me to relive everything that happened to me. It was hard enough to just go through it all once, now you want me to do it again? You can’t imagine what it was like for me. I had thought after I finally left that house that I could put all this stuff behind me. You know, just try to get on with my life… and figure out how to live with what’s been done to me. Those were some awful times. The worst in my life. I just want to forget it. I really don’t want to do this.

            Fine. You want me to relive everything that happened to me since day one? You want to see it through my eyes? Know my thoughts? You want me to dig through my memories and dredge up all the horrible little details? Fine. You’ll get it. You’re not going to like everything I have to say, but don’t blame me. Remember, you asked me to do this.

Chapter 1

            “You really need to relax, Katherine. You’re stressing yourself out. You can’t be in control of every little thing.”

            I rolled my eyes. Sure I can, just give me enough time.

            The company shrink could see he wasn’t getting through to me. I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be in this balding hippy’s little office to begin with. The cheesy motivational posters plastered all of the walls were enough to give me a headache by themselves. My leg was bouncing impatiently and I checked my watch again.

            “You’re spreading yourself too thin,” he advised.

            “I’m doing just fine,” I responded curtly.

            “Just fine? People don’t get sent to me when they’re ‘just fine.’ Yesterday you shouted at a temp and hurled a paperweight through a wall. Does that sound just fine to you?”

            I shrugged. “It was a thin wall. I can’t be held responsible for shoddy construction,” I said. He started to protest and I cut him off. “Look, this is all being blown way out of proportion. The guy did a bad job. It’s going to cost me days of work to make up for his mistakes. I don’t have time for that kind of thing! So I lost my temper. Sorry. Won’t happen again. Sometimes I feel like I’m carrying my whole department.”

            “You’re making your co-workers uncomfortable, is what you’re doing.”

            “So what? Hey, I’ve never been popular around here, but I get the job done. Okay? I didn’t get to be the head underwriter here by the age of twenty-nine by being laid-back and people-friendly.” That was sure true. I’d had to claw and scratch my way to the top, but I did it. People just don’t work unless you occasionally apply the whip. So what if I was hated? So what if there was the occasional nervous breakdown? That came with the territory. That’s what I got paid for.

            “This is an office, not a battleground. I’ll be frank and say that you’re not very popular among those who work under you since you got that position. And then there’s always the rumors about that business concerning your predecessor.”

            Another eye roll. “Oh, gawd, that.”

            My ‘predecessor,’ Alice Merryweather, had been a thorn in my side ever since I started to work there. For years we were silent enemies. Well, mostly the rancor was on my part. I always hated her. But she didn’t like me much, either. She stepped in the way of me getting promoted several times. She told me she didn’t like the way I did things. I figured she was just jealous. I was a young, pretty, and ambitious. She was a dumpy, frumpy, nearly middle-aged woman with bad hair and terrible fashion sense. People liked her because she didn’t make them work. I wouldn’t normally have cared whether she liked me or not, and I would simply have dismissed her, except that I needed to get her out of the way to get to the top. I wasn’t letting someone like her screwing up my career plans. Since I couldn’t go around her, I had to go through her. The problem was, even though she was lazy by my standards, she did her job passably well. The company had no reason to replace her. So I had to give them a reason. It was easy.

            After a little investigating, I found out she was a dyke. She lived with her lover and everything. Not many people knew because she didn’t spread it around, but she wasn’t ashamed of it or anything. Since I was a totally closeted bisexual–having learned to keep it a deep, dark secret so that I could get ahead in the business world–that just made me hate her more. Still, it was something I could use against her. So I started by mending the bridges between us for a few weeks, then I began to lightly flirt with her in private. At the same time, I let slip a couple of rumors around the office that she had been making suggestions to me that had made me ‘uncomfortable.’

            She was pretty devoted to her lover and wasn’t inclined to sleep around, but I guess her self-esteem was low enough that enough flattering and hints from a pretty young woman eventually got to her. I executed a carefully orchestrated encounter in front of a hallway security camera. I got her alone and, while appearing to be formal and business-like, I pushed her buttons until she lost all sense of priority. She came up behind me, put her arm around me, and kissed my neck. I had asked her to, but to the camera, it looked like something else entirely. It was almost funny to see her expression as I reacted to her kiss with disgust and confusion. I pushed her off of me and hurried away, even managing to work up some tears on my way out as I left early for the day. A few days later I trumped up a false sexual harassment accusation that brought her under suspicion. It wasn’t quite enough to make her lose her job, but she was teetering on the brink.

            A week later, I had to take some papers to her in her office. With a smile, I quietly but viciously teased and goaded her until she lost it. She started shouting at me, pulled my hair, and then she struck me, all in front of several witnesses. Having been driven into a corner and pushed too far, it was a natural–if stupid–reaction on her part, but it sealed her fate. She was let go and I got her position. A well-executed plan. It wasn’t the last time I manipulated people to get my way, but it was certainly the most devious.

            I know, I know. I sound like a total monster. Believe me, I would rather have found a way around her, but she intentionally kept putting herself in my path. She had been a random element I couldn’t control. She asked for it. I didn’t take any particular pleasure out of what I did. I just did what had to be done. Sometimes you just have to look out for yourself, take care of number one, or else you’ll never get anywhere in this life. And I did had regrets and a sleepless night or two over the whole thing, but, dammit, this was a war and she was an unfortunate casualty. Dog-eat-dog. Law of the jungle. Survival of the fittest. That’s the most important lesson I had learned from my parents, before they passed away. Besides, I probably did Alice favor. A frumpy dyke like that was never going to get promoted. All I did was give her the chance to explore greener pastures. That’s all.

            “I don’t want to talk about that.”

            “Alright. There’s also your recent divorce. Maybe-”

            “My divorce doesn’t enter into this. It meant nothing.”

            The two-bit shrink was getting frustrated. “Your problems may not be something I’m qualified to help you with. Perhaps bi-polar disorder?”

            “What?”

            “Perhaps not. But I’m recommending you see a psychiatrist. Don’t worry, it’ll be comped by company insurance.”

            “I’ll do no such thing.”

            “I could recommend that you take time off and be sent to a retreat to get more in touch with yourself,” he said, looking sympathetic, but I just knew he was hiding a smug smile.

            Oh, buddy, you do not want to make me your enemy. “You can’t do that! I can’t go anywhere, I can’t take time off. This place will go to hell without me.”

            “There you go, trying to be in control of everything. The world will keep running fine without you there to make the sun rise, you know. Well, then, if you don’t want time off I suggest you opt for the psychiatrist. I have a list you can choose from.”

            “Okay, alright, fine. Okay. Have it your way,” I huffed, promising myself to get this guy fired when I got my next promotion.

Chapter 2

            They ‘let’ me off work early the next week so that I could make it to my appointment. I didn’t like to be off work and I just knew everyone was going to be talking about me, about how ‘That Bitch Kathy’ was coming unglued and needed to see a shrink. Someone was going to pay for this. But, right then, I just had to play along, smile, and be part of the team. I had picked one of the listed psychiatrists, a Dr. Evelyn Benedict, for no other reason than because her office wasn’t too far from where I worked. I didn’t even need to drive since it was just a short bus trip downtown. At least I wouldn’t have to go too far out of my way in order to be terribly inconvenienced.

            Dr. Benedict had a cozy little office with a fish tank in the waiting room. The magazines were up-to-date, for once, but I always got so irritated by having to wait that I could never concentrate on reading. I always hated to be kept waiting. Dr. Benedict, when I finally got in to see her, cut a somewhat intimidating figure. She was a woman in her thirties, with dark hair and a professional demeanor. She had a pretty face and stylish hairdo, but she was pretty overweight. She had to be twice my weight, at least, and she carried the majority of it below the waist. She also stood about five inches taller than me. I never did like it when other women made me feel like a pipsqueak. It was hard enough working among all those men who towered over me. At least she was a sharp dresser. She had that going for her. She did seem somewhat familiar, though, and I was sure I had seen her somewhere before. I decided that, since we worked in the same area, we might have eaten lunch at the same place and perhaps I had seen her there. Although, I usually worked through my lunch hour, so maybe not.

            “So why is it that you’ve been sent to me?” Dr. Benedict asked, after some introductory pleasantries.

            “You have my file, right? They should have sent it to you.”

            “Yes,” she said, “but I’d like to hear it in your own words.”

            “Look, between us, I’m not crazy. I don’t have any problems at all. Okay, maybe I stretch myself too thin, but that’s just part of my job. It’s what I’m paid to do. I can handle it.”

            “I never said you were crazy. Not everyone who comes to see me is crazy, after all,” she said with a warm smile. “Sometimes people just need to talk.”

            “Whatever,” I said, fingering the fringe of a throw pillow. I didn’t need to talk.

            “Why don’t we just start at the beginning. What was your home life like?”

            Oh, here we go, I thought. I took a deep breath. “My mommy hated me! My daddy was never home! My uncle made me dress up like a nun and spank his wrists with a ruler!”

            The doctor coughed. “Pardon?”

            “Sorry. Just trying to inject a little humor.”

            “Ah. That’s fine, but we’re never going to get anywhere if you don’t at least try to take this seriously,” she said.

            “Alright, alright. Look, I had a perfectly normal childhood. Okay, I guess my parents weren’t around too much, but that wasn’t their fault. They were busy. I just learned to take care of myself at a young age. There’s nothing wrong with that. It taught me to be independent. What else is there? I grew up, I went to school, went to college, got a job, and here I am,” I said.

            “It doesn’t sound like you haven’t made much time for personal relationships,” she observed.

            “I don’t have time for that. Not now. Oh, I tried getting married last year, but it was mostly a convenience thing. It lasted a whole six months. And, no, I’m not bitter.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “Yes, I’m sure. I wasn’t, as one might say, all that emotionally invested in him. The only good thing Jonathan gave me was his last name. Katherine Quinten sounds so much better than Kathy Sloan,” I said, referring to my maiden name. “You know, the alliteration.”

            Dr. Benedict had a funny look on her face, like she had just swallowed a bug. “Sloan? You’re Kathy Sloan?”

            “I was. I don’t go by that name anymore. And I prefer ‘Katherine’ if it’s alright with you. Why?”

            “Ah, no, nothing. Excuse me a moment, please,” she said, and left the room without further explanation. I sat and impatiently strummed my fingers impatiently on the throw pillow until she returned a few minutes later. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’m not feeling well,” she said. She did look a little pallid, I had to admit. “It must have been something I had for lunch. I’m very sorry, but we’ll have to cut this session short.”

            “Uh, well, alright.” I was angry at having to leave work early for nothing, but relieved to get out of there so soon. It felt like getting out of detention early.

            “Same time next week, alright?”

………

            So, same time, next week, there I was, back in her office. Work that week had been hell, trying to get a bunch of reports finished that a cadre of incompetents had screwed up. I could swear that sometimes they did it on purpose. My stomach had been hurting recently, too. I hoped it wasn’t an ulcer. That was all I needed. I had begun to think that maybe, just maybe, I was working a little too hard lately. But there was still so much to do! Maybe in a few weeks I’d take a day off and have a long weekend to do something for myself. The problem was, I just didn’t know what to do with myself when I had nothing to do.

            “Hey, doc?” I asked when we got into her office. “I know you’re not a medical doctor or anything, but do you know what an ulcer feels like?”

            “I’m not sure. Probably related heartburn, I’d guess. Why do you ask?”

            “I don’t know. I’ve just been popping antacids like candy this week. It’s probably nothing,” I said, taking my place on the sofa.

            “Hmm. I have heard that if you get food on your stomach, it helps it go away for a while. I have some brownies leftover in the kitchenette. Would you like some?” she offered. “They’re quite good. I made them myself.”

            “Well, I shouldn’t, but… I did skip lunch again. I suppose one wouldn’t hurt. Thanks.”

            She returned with a plate with a few fudge brownies and a glass of water. They really were quite good, and I ate two while we chatted. She asked me about conflicts at work and again about how my life was while I was growing up. I told her the stuff I guessed she would want to hear.

            “It sounds like you didn’t have much of a childhood.”

            “Well, no, like I said, I had to learn to take care of myself. I mean, if you can’t take care of yourself, who will? You can’t rely on anyone to do it for you. But don’t get the idea that I was neglected, or anything.” I took a long drink of water. The brownies had made my mouth dry. “Is the heat on in here?”

            “No, I don’t believe so. I think it’s safe to say that you have some control issues stemming from your childhood.”

            “Why? Maybe. So?” I was feeling lightheaded. Maybe I had gone too long without eating and the sugar rush was catching up with me. I was breathing heavily.

            “Well, your need to achieve and be in control can potentially harm those around you. You have been very successful in your career, so far, but has it made you happy?”

            “Happiness can wait until later. Right now I… just need to be… secure. I don’t feel too good.” The room was spinning.

            “Oh? Why don’t you lie down. That’s right. That’s good.”

            I was clutching the fringed pillow. Tunnel-vision was closing in on me. What the hell? Am I passing out? I wondered. I saw Dr. Benedict looming over me.

            “Sweet dreams, bitch.”

            What?

Chapter 3

            I woke up to a sudden jarring sensation. I opened my eyes only to scrunch them shut again from the painful stab of light. I felt like I had the worst hangover ever and I was still really dizzy. Was I sitting up? I couldn’t make sense of my position. I felt like I was being squished. The jarring sensation came again. I forced my eyes open and tried to move. I couldn’t move… I couldn’t breathe–there was tape over my mouth. What the hell?

            “Mmmmmm?”

            It took me a few moments to realize that I was tied up. More specifically, I was bound up in a tight ball, doubled over, with my knees squeezed up under my chin and my arms pinned behind my back. It felt like I’d been all wrapped up with duct tape. In addition to be being all balled up, I had been securely taped to a wheeled dolly cart, and, with a frightening sense of vertigo, realized I was being pulled up a flight of stairs. I couldn’t see who was in control of the cart. I was pulled up another few inches and reached the top of the next step with a jarring thud. I had a brief, horrible image of being let go and tumbling in a helpless ball down the wooden stairs. What the HELL?

            From what I could see through the stair rails, I was in a regular house. I could see a shiny, wood floor and area rug at the bottom of the stairs. There was a fluffy black cat peering around the corner down below, peering up at me. I was pulled onto a second-story landing and taken down a hallway. I couldn’t see much, but I saw some paintings on the walls. As I was turned to go up yet another flight of stairs, I saw side table at the end of the hallway on which sat a vase holding a dry floral arrangement. Just a regular, normal house.

            “Mmmmm!”

            There was the bounce of being dragged up another step. “Almost there. For such a skinny bitch, you sure do weigh a lot.”

            Dr. Benedict? “Mmm? Mmm!” I struggled, but couldn’t get loose. I couldn’t make any sense of this. Did she just call me a bitch? Why wasn’t she helping me? She wasn’t answering. All I could do was keep struggling and screaming through the gag as I was pulled the rest of the way up the stairs.

            At the top of the small landing, I was wheeled around a pulled into a room until I was facing a bed. It had a cream-colored, rose print dust ruffle. Some of the duct tape was being unwound from me. I hoped I was being released, but I was only being unsecured from the dolly. I was able to look up and catch a glimpse of my psychiatrist. She was still wearing the same charcoal suit and navy blouse I had seen her in at the office, so I figured not too much time had passed. She squatted down and got her arms under me. “One, two, threee…”

            There came another horrible dizzy spell as she hefted me up to the edge of the bed and rolled me onto it until I was lying on my side. I was on top of a cream-and-roses comforter that matched the ruffle. I could see her clearly now. Perspiring heavily, she stood back a minute to catch her breath. She saw me looking at her and gave me a slight smirk. She didn’t respond to my desperate noises, though. Taking the dolly cart, she wheeled it out of the room and disappeared for several minutes.

            Looking around as much as I was able, I could see that I was in a small room. It must have been some kind of attic room, since the far wall–the one I was facing–was steeply sloped as if matching the contours of a roof. There was a small window near the head of the bed, and the walls were covered with floral print wallpaper. There was some whitewashed wooden furniture in there: a nightstand, a dresser, and a small round table with a chair. There was a little closet in the far corner and the door was next to the foot of the bed. It was a little warm in the room, and it smelled musty, as if it hadn’t been used in a long time. Underneath the mustiness was the faint scent of old potpourri. Twisting my head around, I could see that the headboard was an old-fashioned style made whitewashed metal. Attached to the edge of the headboard was a heavy leather wrist restraint. My chest tightened.

            I heard her muffled voice come from below. “Aww, snookums, did mommy scare you with all that noise? I’m sorry. I’ll fill your bowl in a minute.”

            What the hell? Is she talking to me? Oh. She’s talking to that cat. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on making the dizziness go away. I had to force myself not to panic. I had to stay in control. I refused to start blubbering. Whatever happened, I had to stay in control. I had to figure out what was going on, and then figure out a way to get out of it. What did they say in that assault awareness lecture I had had to attend? Never let them take you to the second location? A little late for that, thank you very much.

            Dr. Benedict, having shed her suit coat, returned with an incomprehensible armload of metal, leather, and cloth. She put these down on the floor beside the bed. “Alright, let’s get you settled away.”

            “Mmmmm!” I howled, seeing her brandishing a pair of scissors. She began to cut away the tape that bound my legs to my chest and kept me balled up. I had planned to immediately start fighting, kicking, whatever I could do just as soon as I was free. I moaned in dismay when I realized that, even without the strips that were keeping me balled up, I still had tape wrapped up and down my body, from neck to toe. I did kick, but being practically mummified, I was still as helpless as a caterpillar in a cocoon. And why wasn’t she saying anything? Her grim silence was almost as frightening as her actions. I was rolled onto my back with arms still bound beneath me. She climbed onto the bed, looming over me. I groaned, my breath crushed out of me, as she straddled my thighs and sat down, facing towards my feet. I couldn’t see anything beyond her very wide, pantsuit-encased rear end.

            I felt her taking my shoes off. There wasn’t much I could do except flutter my feet and try to buck her off me. But she was incredibly heavy and wasn’t going anywhere. I squealed and growled when I felt what could only be restraints being secured tightly around my ankles. As she turned around to face me I saw the thick restraints fastened around my ankles, with ropes that over the bottom edge of the mattress. Oooh, shit. What’s going on?

            She began snipping the tape that was wrapped around torso and arms. I thought this would be my chance. As soon as my arms were free I started hitting and scratching her, reaching for her face, screeching through the gag, trying to wrestle her off of me. She caught hold of my wrists and held them above my head. Inching her way up my bucking body until her fat thighs were beneath my chin, she painfully pinned my upper arms beneath her knees. Get off me, you cow, that hurts! I screamed into the gag.

            Using her leverage, she easily fastened the restraints around wrists. Then she pulled a some kind of tight, spandex tube, like a halter top, down over my arms, over my head, until it was bunched up below my armpits. I felt my wrists being tugged up to the top of the bed. I pulled at the restraints with all my strength, but all I did was make the headboard squeak and shake a little. I was tethered. Trapped.

            Dr. Benedict got off the bed and pulled the spandex tube thing down until it was encircling my waist. She stood back to catch her breath, looking pleased with herself. “That was easier than I thought.”

            “Mmm!” I glared at her with fury, tears trickling from my eyes.

            “Feel like you have something to say? Alright. But, do try to keep your voice down, or I’ll just gag you again,” she said, then peeled the tape off my lips.

            “What the fuck! What the fuck are you doing, you crazy, sow cunt!” I screeched as soon as I was ungagged. In response, she backhanded me hard across the face. “Ow!”

            “Shut up!” she ordered, returning my gaze with equal fury. “You just shut up, you evil bitch. You tried to kill my sister! You want to know what I’m doing? I’ll tell you. What I’m doing is just old-fashioned revenge.”

            “W-what? Kill? Sister?” I stared in confusion. My head was spinning. This had to be case of mistaken identity. “I-I never tried to ki–”

            “Does the name Alice ring a bell?”

            “Alice? I don’t know any Alice,” I started, then remembered. “Alice Merryweather? From work? But… but that was years ago!”
            “She’s my sister,” Dr. Benedict said grimly.

            “She put you up to this?”

            “Oh, goodness, no. This is all my idea. I’ve been planning it all week, ever since your first visit. I didn’t even know who you were, not until I heard your old name. She’d be horrified if she knew what I was doing. She’s far too sensitive for this sort of thing. I, however, am not.”

            “B-but I didn’t try to kill her! I wouldn’t hurt anybody!”

            “But you do. You hurt people all the time, but especially her. Alice was fired in disgrace because of your heartless lies. It sent her back into an old depression that I had hoped she had recovered from. She attempted suicide and almost succeeded. She jumped…” The woman shook her head. “She recovered, but had broken her back and lost the use of her legs. Thanks to you, she’s confined to a wheelchair for life. She was a sweet, caring soul who never hurt a fly, and you left her a cripple. Her partner takes care of her now.”

            “I-I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I am, but that’s not my fault!” I protested, tugging at my restraints. “I admit it, I lied, I got her fired. I admit that. Okay? But I can’t be held responsible for what she did after. I didn’t make her attempt suicide. It’s not my fault!”

            She gave me a chilling smile. “No. If you had been directly responsible, pushed her out the window with your own hands, you would already be dead. But you’re still the cause. If you had been more of a human being, you never would have done what you did to her, and she would still be fine. But you were inhumane. So now, I’m going to be inhumane to you.” She picked up the scissors again.

            Oh god, oh god, oh god. “What are you going to do? Please, we can talk about this! D-doctor?”

            “Oh, no, call me Evelyn. After all, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together,” she said. She started cutting away the tape that held my legs together, and my pant legs along with it. My legs were free of tape, but I could still barely move. She worked her way up, cutting away my underwear and blouse. She was stripping me naked. What was she going to do? Rape me or something? If she were a man then at least all this would make some kind of sense. But she was a woman nearing middle-age, and a psychiatrist, at that. This was nuts!

            “Stop, stop, please stop! What do you want? I’ll do anything. D-do you want money? Do you want me to pay for her h-health care? I’ll do it, I will, just please stop!”

            “I don’t want anything from you. In fact, you don’t have to do anything. Anything at all. That’s the whole point.” She yanked my shredded pants and blouse from under my body and tore away my pantyhose. I was left naked on the bedspread. “See,” she explained, “I’ve always had this interest, er, a paraphilia, if you please. I’ve always suppressed it, seeing how it is rather… antisocial? When I realized that I had the woman who tried to destroy my sister in my grasp, I thought long and hard on what I should do. I came up with an idea that would satisfy my fantasies, as well as provide appropriate and lasting punishment for you.”

            “What lasting punishment? I don’t need punishment,” I cried desperately. “I’m not a bad person, I’m not a bad person!”

            Evelyn bore a frighteningly sinister expression. “Don’t like the word punishment? Fine, call it vengeance. Poetic justice. Just desserts? How about ‘comeuppance’? That’s a good one.” She chuckled to herself.

            My god, she’s completely crazy! I tried desperately to reason with her. “But you’re a psychiatrist. A doctor! You’re supposed to help people! Don’t forget that.”

            “Am I not helping? I’m helping myself by providing closure and allowing myself to indulge in my fantasies. I’m helping my sister, though she’ll never know it, by taking revenge on her malefactor. I’m helping everyone you work with–everyone who will cross your path and be perceived by you as in your way, everyone you’ll hurt, backstab, and otherwise terrorize in what would surely be a long and successful career. And as bad as you are now, I’m sure you would only continue to get worse. In fact, I can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t be helped by me taking you out of circulation.”

            Out of circulation? I wondered. “No. No, don’t kill me! Help, somebody help me PLEEEASE!” I howled in the direction of the little window.

            Evelyn winced at my screams and hastily ripped off a fresh piece of duct tape. I was still shouting as she sealed it down over my mouth. She added several more strips, smoothing them down firmly over my lips and cheeks. I was still screaming, but surely not loud enough be heard from the street.

            “No, none of that. Stop it. I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to help you. Your behavior is destructive to those around you and even to your own health. In addition, your need to be so in control of everything is preventing you from taking any pleasure out of life. You yourself said that you’re not happy, and I believe it. What I’m going to do may not make you happy, either, but it’s a lot better than letting you run loose. You’re going to learn what it means to be helpless and depend on others. Me, specifically,” she said, with a sniff of self-satisfaction. “It is my professional diagnosis, as your doctor, that you work too hard. I recommend lots of rest and relaxation. You’re going to take a very, very long vacation, my dear.”

            I squirmed in the restraints as she smoothed the spandex tube, the only thing remaining on my body, over my torso. “This is a corset liner. It will help keep your corset clean and prevent damage to your skin by providing a sort of lubrication,” she explained.

            I was wondering what the hell I would need something like that for when she picked up a big, heavily-boned corset from beside the bed. She worked it under my body so that she could wrap it around my waist. I watched in helpless confusion, breathing heavily through my nose, as she hooked the ends together in front. It was made more for function than for beauty. It went from just below my breasts, down over my hips, ending above my crotch. The thing looked to me like some kind of old, torture device. After she got it hooked together, she rolled me over, none too gently, and started tightening the laces. It wasn’t bad at first, but before long I could feel it squeezing my chest and waist tighter and tighter. It was like being slowly crushed by an anaconda. She would give the strings a hard jerk that would pull me up off the bed and squeeze more air out of me. She only decided it was tight enough when I felt like I was about to be pinched in two. She tied off the strings and rolled be back over.

            Okay. A woman has kidnapped, stripped me, threatened me, and now is dressing me in a corset. What the hell am I supposed to do in this situation? I struggled to breathe, gasping tiny breaths through my nose. The compression on my stomach didn’t hurt, yet, but it felt like the thing was trying to crush my bottom ribs. The muscles in my waist had been effectively paralyzed. Evelyn patted me on my constricted belly, then climbed back on top of me. Not again! What now?

            I felt that she was unfastening my left ankle. Same as before, her weight prevented me doing anything but twitching my unbound leg. She pulled a little, nylon footie over my foot, then started working my foot into a boot. “This may be a little snug,” she said. “I ordered these ballet boots last week for you and had to guess at the size. It’s amazing what you can buy on the internet these days.”

            I had the disturbing image of Dr. Benedict, sitting at a computer, ordering horrible things to torture me with. All week while I had slaved away at work, just trying to do my job, she had been plotting against me, getting weird shit delivered to her by UPS, and fantasizing about this moment. I moaned and beat my head against the pillows, which was about all I could do.

            I felt my foot being crammed unmercifully into the tight boot. It wasn’t like a regular boot; it didn’t bend, it only went straight down. My foot was forced into a ballet-like position. The toe box was small and my toes were scrunched and jammed together, as if I was trying to wear heels a size or two too small. It got worse when she started lacing it up. As the boot tightened, the pointe position became more extreme and my ankle was completely immobilized. I couldn’t even wiggle my foot, not front to back or side to side. It was like having my leg frozen in cement from the calf down. When she got off me, I saw my foot encased in the fetishistic, pointy, black boot. The ridiculously long heel of the thing curved in to merge with the toe of the boot, forming a solid ring. It definitely wasn’t designed for walking in. Walking was moot, anyway, since she had tied the ring part to the footboard.

            “Aw, that’s pretty,” she said, sounding so perversely happy about it that I was incensed to struggle violently. Amazingly, the hastily-tied knot worked loose and my leg came free. I lashed out at her with the boot. She jumped back and I didn’t have a chance of striking her. I cocked my leg up, like snake poised to strike, hoping that she would come close enough so that I could kick her. Just one good kick. In response, she picked up a vicious-looking baton from her pile of Things To Torture Kathy With on the floor. She smacked the heavy, composite club against her palm. I stared at it with utter disbelief.

            “Understand, I have no compunction against hurting you. None whatsoever,” she told me. “You’re going to learn that you have no control here. I’m sure that I could accidentally break a bone with this thing. That wouldn’t be very pleasant, would it? Now put your leg down and don’t move it.”

            I sobbed, trying to plead with her. I didn’t want lie still and let her do whatever she wanted to me. Being told to just obediently put it down was akin to someone telling you to drop your only weapon, and you knowing that without it, you’d be completely at their mercy. One leg might be useless, but it was all the freedom I had.

            She saw my hesitation and swung the baton. For a second, I thought she was going to hit me, and I screamed and cringed away. I felt the heavy thud of it as it struck the mattress beside me. “I will do it,” she said. Reluctantly, fearing for my life, I lowered my booted leg to the bed. The immediate threat of the baton outweighed the fear of being tied up and what could result. Making sure to stay outside of striking range, she passed the rope through the boot heel and retied it, this time much more securely. I groaned and my head dropped back into the pillows. She repeated the whole process so that my other foot was squished, booted, and immobilized just like the first. She didn’t allow a chance for me to get loose again.

            Next she picked up a large and frightening jumble of metal and leather. As she straightened it out, I could see that it was an old-fashioned kind of leg brace–it looked like a pair of metal splints held together with many leather cuffs. It had round, ratcheted joints half-way down to allow for bending at the knee. I made questioning whimpers, but she just ignored me as she wrapped it around my left leg and boot. It didn’t take her long to fasten all the cuffs. Into each of the cuffs she placed a small lock. There was one at the top of my thigh, two above and below my knee, one at my ankle, and another that went down like a stirrup through the boot’s arch in front of the heel. The bar on the outside of my leg extended up past the upper thigh cuff to a second joint at my hip. That bar kept going up to my waist. The knee joints were locked in position and, though I tried, I simply couldn’t move my leg at all. I was starting to regret letting her tie my leg back up. She might have just been bluffing about beating me with that baton thing. But maybe not.

            Once the second leg brace was put on, I looked like I was in heavy traction or something below the waist. It was a mosaic of metal and leather with patches of bare skin. As if that wasn’t enough, she added two horizontal spreader bars, one between my ankles and a shorter one at my knees, that kept my legs spread several feet apart. She wrapped a wide, leather belt around my compressed waist and locked it in place. Then she locked the side bars that went up past my hips to the sides of the belt.

            “Let’s see how well this works,” she said, grinning, and then detached my wrist cuff and stood back.

            Surprised by the release of my arms, I immediately tried to sit up. It took only a second to realize that it was impossible. The corset might as well have been steel for all of its flexibility. Even if I could make the corset bend, the waist belt that was locked to the braces kept me from bending at the hip. I tried lifting myself up by digging my elbows into the bed, but it was useless. My arms were free and I was still stuck on my back like a turtle in the sun. I might as well have been encased in a cast from the waist down. I ripped the tape off my mouth. “What are you doing? Why are you doing this to me? Please let me goooo!”

            “That is so cute,” she said.

            With disgust and horror I realized that my helpless struggles were actually turning her on. What kind of pervert freak was she? Frantically, I clawed at the corset, at the belt and cuffs. I pulled and strained at the braces, trying desperately to find some way loose. There wasn’t a way. I strained with all my strength to fight the braces, but all that did was making them dig in and hurt. Crying and screaming, I pounded on the braces, threw the pillows across the room, and clawed at the mattress until I was exhausted and gasping for air. The corset’s constriction was making me light-headed. “Oh, god. Somebody help. Please let me go. I’m sorry for everything. Please.”

            “Oh, no, you’re not sorry yet. Now you know what it’s like to loose control of your legs. But I’m not through with you, yet. Give me your hand.”

            “No. No!”

            “Do we have to do this again? Your legs provide very easy targets,” she said, with menacing ease.

            “Alright, alright, just don’t hurt me!” I cried, letting her take my left wrist.

            “Thank you. See how much less stressful this is when you cooperate?” she asked. I was expecting her to cuff me again, but instead she pulled a sock over my hand. Then, starting at the wrist and working her way to the tips of my fingers, she tightly wrapped a long strip of duct tape around the sock.

            “Please, can’t we talk about this?” I pleaded. “Y-you’re a smart woman, a very smart woman, I can see that. You’re mad at me, but this isn’t the answer. It’s the wrong thing to do. Right? We can work this out. Okay? I-I just know we can come to some sort of arrangement. I don’t care what, just something that doesn’t involve whatever the hell you’re doing to me!”

            “We’ve talked enough,” she said. She kept wrapping my hand, squeezing my fingers together until my hand was nothing but a shiny gray flipper. I couldn’t even wiggle my fingers. “There will be no bargaining. I’m going to see this through to the end. Alright, other hand.”

            “Nooo!” I thrust my hand to the far edge of the bed. I was crying. One hand was all I had left. She got on the bed and reached for it, kneeling down with one knee on my bound arm to keep me from using it. “Ow! Owww! You’re hurting me!”
            “See? That’s what you get,” she said, snagging my wrist and pulling a sock over it, too. “Fighting will only cause you pain.”

            I begged, cursed, and snapped at her as she wrapped it up. When she was done, my hands were reduced to useless stumps. She was taking everything away from me.

            The next addition was a plastic, orthopedic breastplate that laid across my upper chest, went down between and below my breasts, and was held in place with straps that went over my shoulders and sides to a similar plate on my back. I beat at her with my taped hands, but that just made her laugh. She had difficulty getting fitting it on me right, since she couldn’t easily roll me over. “Perhaps I should have done this part before the legs,” she mused. Once she got it the way she wanted it, she produced a pair of smaller braces, similar in appearance to the ones on my legs.

            “No, not my arms! Please! Goddammit, you can’t do this to me. I’ll kill you for this! No, wait, I didn’t mean that!”

            Evelyn gave me a sardonic smirk and forced my arm into the waiting brace. Pinning my arm down with one hand, she deliberately tightened the cuffs to hold it securely in place. There were four of them, just like on my legs, and each one was held on with a tiny lock. It had heavily-padded boards extended from the wrist part that closed over my hands, as if wrapping them in duct tape wasn’t enough. At my shoulder was a post that slid into a slot on the chest plate thing and was secured with screws, preventing me from moving my arm in any way. She adjusted the joints so that my arm was held away from my sides and was slightly bent at the elbow. I cannot describe the feeling of helpless terror as she finished up with my other arm. I still didn’t know what she planned on doing with me, but with my last free limb locked and bolted into immobility, I knew that I was utterly defenseless. She could anything to me.

            “Okay. That works. This is wearing me out. But it’s a good tired,” she joked. “One last thing.” She fixed some kind of choker, or collar, around my neck. It had wires running out of it to something on the bedside table, but I could no longer bend to see what it was.

            “Oh, god, what now?” I asked, crying freely. I felt like a weakling, crying like that, but I couldn’t help it. I just wanted this to be over. I wanted to wake up in my own bed. I wondered, if she indeed planned on killing me or something, if I would ever see my apartment again. That made me cry even harder.

            Heedless of my tears, she placed a large, contoured posture collar around my neck. It went all the way from my chest to just under my jaw line. It was long and felt like it was stretching my neck. At the bottom of it, there were tabs that slid into slots in the chest brace thing and helped keep it in place. In the back, it kept going up to hug the back of my skull. From the sides of this were two padded posts that curved around the sides of my head, above my ears, and were locked in place at my forehead. Once it was all together, my chin was held slightly elevated and my head was fixed immovably in place. I was staring at the top of the headboard and couldn’t budge my head an inch. I must have looked like a train wreck survivor.

            “No more. Please, no more,” I begged as I felt her doing something around my feet. I heard the chain hoist ratcheting away and my legs, the whole lower half of my body, began to slowly rise off the bed. She had attached the hoist to the lower spreader bar and was using it to lift me up. The corset gave at the waist and gouged into my stomach, painfully forcing my air out. “Ow. Stop. Can’t breathe.”

            “I know. It’s only for a minute,” she said. “I just need to find a good spot.” With disgust and horror, I felt her parting my ass cheeks. She stuck adhesive pads deep in the cleft. They had wires that dangled down and tickled me. Then I felt a soft, warm, thickness being wrapped around my butt and over my crotch.

            Diapers? The crazy bitch is diapering me now? I wondered. “What are you… get away…” I grunted.

            “I know, it’s not very dignified, is it? It’s the best I could come up with on short notice. I’ll arrange for something better soon.” With the diaper and wired pads in place, she lowered me back down. I gasped for air as the corset ceased to dig in. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her connect the wires that were coming from rear end to a little electronic device that was also wired to the choker around my throat, under the neck brace. Glancing at a sheet of instructions, she turned a few knobs. “Okay. Let’s try this. Yell at me.”

            “You want me to yell? You’re damn right I’ll yell at you, you fucked up-”

            “No, no, that’s not it. Just a second.” She looked at the instructions again.

            I stared at her in bewilderment, caught off stride. “Huh?”

            “Okay, try again.”

            “Try what ag- ow!” I yelped as I felt a searing bolt of pain stab through my ass. My muscles clenched of the own accord. “What the hell? Oow! What’s- ooow!” It just kept getting worse and worse until my screams dissolved into sobs and tears. Then the pain stopped.

            Evelyn was practically giggling with delight. “It works, it works! See? Whenever you make a sound, you get shocked. That should teach you to keep quiet. Do it again.”

            No! I mouthed, still recovering.

            “You’re a quick study. Don’t worry, it has levels of sensitivity. I’m setting it so that you should be able to talk in a loud whisper. Try it out.”

            “H-hello?” I whispered, cautiously. There was no shock, so I went on. “What is that thing? Why, why, why are you doing all this? This is fucking crazyyyeeoow!” Apparently, my volume had risen a little too loud. Cursing, I had to force myself to stop screaming to make the pain cease. I glared at her through a haze of tears. “You bitch,” I hissed.

            “I told you why I’m doing this. Can you move at all?” she asked.

            “You know I can’t.” I didn’t wanted to give her the pleasure of seeing my struggle helplessly in front of her.

            “I think the question you want answered is what I’m doing. I told you that you ought to take a long vacation, just relaxing. Well, here’s your vacation. This is what I want from you; lying here and doing absolutely nothing. Taking your nature into consideration, I couldn’t imagine a worse torture for you.”

            I closed my eyes as her words sank in. “How long are you going to keep me like this?”

            “Why, until you’re completely and totally dependent on me. Who knows? It could take years.”

            “Years?” I shouted, and was answered with another bolt of pain in my ass. “Goddd, stooopp,” I groaned.

            “You should be careful with that,” she advised. “It doesn’t do permanent damage, used occasionally, but if you keep on shocking yourself like that, it may cause an electrical burn.”

            “Fuck you,” I said in defiant whisper. I didn’t feel very defiant, though. It dawned on me that all she had to do was place her hand over my nose and mouth, and no matter how much I tried to fight it, I’d be dead in minutes. I couldn’t even imagine living with that kind of helplessness even for days, much less years. “No one stand this for years.”

            “Tons of people do. Any crippled person does… to a degree.”

            “I’ll go crazy.”

            “I concede that’s a possibility. But if you go crazy, don’t worry, I’m licensed to deal with that, too!” She laughed.

            “Oh, screw you,” I said with as much malice as I could convey in a whisper. “You won’t get away with this. They’ll catch you. You’ll get caught, and I’ll be freed, and I’ll make sure you rot in prison for this.”

            “That, too, is a possibility, but not very likely. Think,” she said, “I’m just a thirty-something, well-educated, female professional. That doesn’t rate too highly on a list of suspects. You didn’t drive to my office, so I had no need to dispose of a car–thank you for that, by the way. All they’ll know is that, somewhere between my office and your trip home, you disappeared. And thanks to your winning personality, you have tons of people at work who have been far more vocal about doing dreadful things to you than I.”

            Everything she said was true, but I still couldn’t give up hope. “You will be caught,” I promised.

            She smiled and shrugged. “It’s getting late and I’m starving. I hope you don’t mind if I go make supper? I didn’t think so.” She picked up the electric box and adjusted a dial. “There. Those previous shocks were at level five. I bumped it up to level ten. I’d stay quiet, if I were you.”

            She moved out of my extremely limited range of sight. I heard her gathering up the leftovers of my kidnapping: the tape, my shredded clothes, loose bits of rope. Then she turned the overhead light off, leaving a small table lamp on, and left the room. I listened to her footsteps clunking down the stairs, followed by a cat’s plaintive meow from somewhere below.

Chapter 4

            I spent hours enduring the faint sounds and smells of cooking and listening to the chatter from a television somewhere below, all the while trying to grasp the creeping horror of my own situation. In the past, I’ve had nightmares in which I suddenly realized I was dreaming and then could force myself to wake up out of a deep sleep. It usually happened when things got too crazy in the dream for me to keep believing in it. It was such a relief to wake up and realize that all that bad stuff wasn’t real, and that real life was going on just as before. I wanted so badly to wake up in a cold sweat in my own bed, free from Evelyn Benedict, but it wasn’t happening no matter how hard I willed it.

            Perhaps, I wondered as I laid there, I might have been hit by the bus this afternoon instead of boarding it. Perhaps right now I was really lying in a coma in the ICU, and my mind was transforming the medical procedures into some guilt-spawned hallucination of self-torment. Not impossible, I supposed, but that would mean my real body was trashed and in mortal danger. That wasn’t a comforting thought. At least, if this was really happening, my life didn’t appear to be under any immediate threat, and my body was still in one piece.

            Still, I couldn’t fully believe that this was truly happening. This sort of thing just didn’t happen, not in real life. Beating me up, I could understand. Kidnapping, rape, torture, or even murder, as dreadful as those thoughts were, at least fit into my world view. Putting someone in braces so that she was so helpless she couldn’t even feed herself, just so she would need you to take care of her? It made no sense whatsoever. I convinced myself that Evelyn was bluffing. She had to be. She was doing this to make me feel repentant about Alice, sure, but I couldn’t imagine anyone keeping this up for… years? Certainly not. She would make me suffer until she got bored or satisfied whatever twisted sense of justice she had, then maybe she’d let me go. Maybe she planned on blackmailing me once I was desperate enough to give her anything. Right then I was staking my bets on the police catching her soon. God, I hope there aren’t any photographers around when they come to rescue me and find me like this. I could see the headline in nice, bold typeface: Missing Local Woman Found, Wearing Diapers.

            I squirmed in the braces. Vigorous struggle didn’t help, so I began to search for weak points–perhaps a cuff that was loose enough to patiently wriggle out of. The problem was, as I soon discovered, there really weren’t any weak spots. It really was like being in a full body cast. All I could do was stare at the headboard and the ceiling above it. I could see the small window up high on the wall and tiny bit of sky. It had turned the indigo blue of a late, summer evening.

            I started to ache here and there, especially beneath the corset. I wondered if it was bending my ribs. I was certain to be getting a bruise. The leather cuffs of the braces had started itching, and of course I couldn’t scratch. Worst of all, I felt the growing urge to pee. I couldn’t even cross my legs or wiggle around to abate the urgency. With deep humiliation, I let go and felt the wet warmth gush into the crotch of the diaper and puddle up below my butt.

……

            Sometime later I heard Evelyn coming back up the stairs. My insides twisted with fear of what she might do to me next. She entered the room but I couldn’t see her until she was right up beside the bed. “Comfy?” she asked. “You must me be. You haven’t budged an inch since I last saw you.”

            I didn’t respond to her jab. I glared at her with pure hate.

            “Have you been crying? Oh, I see you had an accident. I hope that wasn’t what brought you to tears. That’s just something you’ll have to get used to. Not to worry. I’ll change you right away,” she said, cheerfully. Having ‘neutralized’ me certainly put her in a better mood. I wasn’t sure which was worse: mean and threatening Evelyn, or happy and cheerful Evelyn. At least the mean part I could cope with. Happy just freaked me right out. My breath was crushed from me again as she used the hoist to raise my butt off the bed. I shamefully endured her cleaning, powdering, and rediapering me. “That should hold you for the night. Here, would you like me to move you into a better position?”

            “Screw you,” I said, quietly, but venomously. “Do whatever you want. I can’t stop you. That’s what you want, right?”

            “That is what I want, yes,” she replied. She loosened the ratchet joints at my hips so that I could bend and she raised me into a sort of reclined, sitting position. She piled pillows up behind my back and head for support, then relocked the joints. I was able to see the rest of the room again. It was a blessing compared to staring at the ceiling, but there was no way I was about to thank her. “I know you’re probably not very hungry right now, but I brought you something to eat, anyway”

            I saw that she had brought what appeared to be a large, plastic syringe used for giving enemas. It was filled with a cloudy, yellow fluid. “What are you gonna do? Feed me through my ass, now?” I was acting cavalier, but I was worried she might actually do just that.

            “Don’t be crass. I’m tired and I don’t have the time to spoon feed it to you. It was either this or a funnel. Open up,” she said.

            “What is it?”

            “It’s just broth. Quit being so paranoid. Open,” she said, again, and thrust the stubby nozzle of the thing between my teeth.

            Lukewarm chicken broth filled my mouth and I realized how hungry I was. My stomach might be squished by the corset, but I still hadn’t eaten anything all day except poison brownies. Damn those brownies. Slowly swallowing, I managed to down most of the syringe’s contents.

            “I don’t expect thanks for my service, for mine is a thankless task,” she said, dramatically.

            “Good, you aren’t getting any.” I closed my eyes and tried to pretend she wasn’t there.

            She sat for a while in silence, just looking at me. “You are so sexy,” she finally said.

            “What?” I gasped in the loudest voice I dared use.

            Evelyn was smiling as she looked at my body. She ran her fingers over the belts and braces. “So pretty. Braces are my secret fetish. One of them, anyway. I just love the way they look on a body, especially a strong, healthy body like yours. Unyielding metal embracing yielding flesh, binding it, molding it. You can’t fight them; you can only submit to them. Rigid, merciless, mechanical discipline imposing its will upon you, and you’re helpless to prevent it. It’s so beautiful. I’m so happy to have the opportunity to help you experience them to the fullest. You’re a slave to them, now, as much as you are a slave to me.”

            Whoa. When did we start talking ‘slavery’? The longer I was there, the more disturbing my captor became. “Uh, you know? You need to see a shrink. Seriously.”

            She laughed. “Physician, heal thyself? But didn’t you know? Many psychiatrists are more messed up than their patients.” She stretched and yawned. “I would love to stay and chat, but it’s getting late, and I am tired and sore. I’m sure you could use some rest, too. So, I’ll say goodnight. Oh, by the way, I got a baby monitor. I’m putting it here on the table. If there’s an emergency, I’m sure I’ll be able to hear you. Night.” With that, she switched off all the lights and shut the door behind her.

……

            That had to be one of the most miserable nights of my life. Amazingly, I actually did manage to fall asleep pretty quickly, but that was due to my utter exhaustion. I didn’t sleep for very long. I jerked awake in my form-fitting prison, realized that it wasn’t a dream, and tried not to burst into tears. I would have tossed and turned, if I could only have moved. The corset was really starting to hurt bad and I was becoming aware of other aches and pains. My muscles were so sore from fighting against the restraints. The attic room was cooling off and I was starting to get chilly. All I could do was lie there in that one position, in the darkness, smelling unfamiliar smells, and pray for sleep to come and make this all go away.

            Eventually, the cramps became too much to bear. I developed incredibly painful cramps along the soles of my feet, I guess due to the extreme en pointe position they were forced into. It just kept getting worse and worse until I was on the verge of tears. Something had to be done.

            “E-Evelyn? Shit. I need… I need help. Evelyn?” I asked, in a whisper that I hoped would carry over the baby monitor. After two more tries and several minutes with no response, I steeled myself to speak aloud. “Evelyn! Oww! Help me! Ooooww!” The pain of the shocks seemed ten times worse than the ones before. It was like having a hot curling iron driven into my bowels. I growled and convulsed in the locked braces.

            Finally, I heard the sound of Evelyn rapidly ascending the stairs. She flung the door open and I could see her silhouette. “What? What is it?” she asked, a note of alarm in her voice.

            “My feet. You have to do something about my feet,” I whispered, still recovering from the shock.

            “What about your feet?”

            “They’re so cramped. You have to take these boots off. It hurts so bad.”

            There was a moment of silence. “No.”

            “But–”

            “It’ll pass,” she said. “I thought it was an emergency. Never wake me up for something so foolish again.” Then she was going back down the stairs, leaving me alone with the pain.

            At some time during the night, while I was in between brief, fitful periods of sleep, I heard the door creak open. I couldn’t hear or see anything until I felt the mattress bounce a little. I bit my lip, fearing that Evelyn had come back to do something awful to me in the night. I almost screamed when I felt something furry touch my leg, then I had to laugh. It was that damn black cat of Evelyn’s. “You’re here to torture me, too?” I asked. “Go on, sharpen your claws on my leg. That’d be a fine trick.”

            I felt it padding around my body, exploring me. To it, I must have been like a strange, new bit of furniture. I never had any pets, not since my dad accidentally hit and killed our dog in the driveway when I was nine. I never really saw the need for them after I had grown up. Then I felt its soft, warm body pressing against my skin as it curled up next to my thigh. It was purring. I couldn’t help but start crying. I hated Evelyn, and by proxy, I hated her cat a little, too. But, just at that moment, the cat was like a little miracle of comfort. And I couldn’t even move to pet it.

Chapter 5

            I started awake at the feel of being shaken. The morning light was pouring into the little window and I groaned. All of my aches and pains immediately sat up and started clamoring for attention all over my body. My crotch and butt were wet from when I had to pee in the middle of the night. I had tried to hold it in as long as I could, but finally had to give in.

            “Good morning,” said Evelyn. “You looked so peaceful sleeping, I hated to wake you. It’s time for breakfast.”

            Oh, god, why can’t I wake up from this? “Go away. Leave me alone.”

            “I don’t think you’d like it very much if I did that. One of these days, I just might. Then where would you be?” Evelyn asked. There was a tray sitting over my lap with a small cup of mixed fruit, a couple of biscuits, and a bowl of cereal. “Come on, open up. Do you like jam on your biscuits? All I have at the moment is raspberry, I’m afraid. Hurry up, now, or I’ll be late for work.”

            I let her feed me the fruit in spite of myself. I didn’t like being hand-fed by her, but I was starving. “You’re going to work? Leaving me here like this?” I asked between bites of biscuit.

            “Well, I’d like to stay while you settled in, but I don’t want to look suspicious. I need to keep my regular routine. Don’t worry, I think you’ll be fine by yourself.”

            I felt heartened upon hearing that. If she wasn’t in the house perhaps I’d have a chance to get loose. Maybe not loose, but at least I would have a chance to try without Evelyn nearby ready to pounce on me. Evelyn held up the bowl of cereal for me to drink some milk from by tipping it to my lips. Once I got a mouthful, and took aim, I tried to spit it on her. I got a few drops on her, but mostly all I managed to do was spew it messily down my front. 

            “Oh, for the love of christ,” Evelyn muttered, mopping the milk from my chest and chin. “Are you trying to make me late for work? Just for that, I’m not going to change your diaper until I get back.” 

            “See if I care.”

            Ignoring me, she cleared away the tray. “I’ve debated whether or not I should gag you when I leave. I could tell you that I’m situated far enough back on the lot that you wouldn’t alert the neighbors if you screamed, but I don’t think that would stop you. It’s disturbing, the thought someone howling her head off in my house all day long. So. Should I gag you?”

            I looked at her, torn between defiance and fear. “I’ll be quiet.”

            “Liar. But, I think I have a compromise. This shocking thing has more plug-ins for electrodes,” Evelyn said, plugging more a couple more sticky pads into the device on the bedside table.

            “What? Don’t!”

            “It’s the only way. I’ll turn the power up to maximum, too.”

            “Please, don’t.”

            “Hush up, Miss Milk-spitter.” She adhered the new pads at the back of my jaw, partly underneath the top of the neck brace. “That should keep you quiet. Give it a try.”

            “No!”

            “Have it your way. Oh, almost forgot…” she trailed off, picking up the tray and leaving the room. A minute later she returned carrying a large water bottle with a narrow hose. Although I dreaded what nefarious purpose she would put it to, it turned out to nothing more than a container of water for me to drink from. She put an elastic band around my head, under my chin, that held the end of the tube in place near my lips. “If you keep sucking, you’ll pull water up. See? Not completely helpless. Now I really have to get going, or else I’ll be late for my first session. Have a nice day, Kathy. I’m sure it will be productive,” she said with a smirk, and left.

            I spent the first ten minutes after she left calling her every foul name I could think of. After regaining control of myself, I tried once again to force or wriggle my way out of the braces. All the struggling did was reawaken dormant cramps and my calves and the soles of my feet started aching again. It was unbelievably frustrating. If I had been locked in a cellar, or chained to a pipe or something, I could have at least been able to try to get myself free. I could have tried to pry a chain loose, or figure a way out of a locked room, or maybe set up a booby trap… something. But there’s not much one can do when one is helpless as a baby and effectively paralyzed.

            I wondered how long it would be before someone filed a missing persons report on me, and I suddenly wished I had more friends. Probably no one would notice I was gone until work started, and most of them might just assume I was late. They might try to reach me at home, but most likely nobody would be seriously alarmed until I didn’t show up again tomorrow. And then maybe another few days before the police got off their asses and tracked me down and rescued me. “This sucks,” I moaned.

            I couldn’t hear anything up there except the distant sounds of a lawnmower and a dog barking somewhere. It didn’t sound like anyone was nearby. I was going to have to try shouting for help. I was scared of the pain, but my nature wouldn’t allow me to just acquiesce to Evelyn’s wishes so easily. I took a series of deep breaths, as deep as I could take with the corset on me, then screamed at the top of my lungs.

            “HEEEL-uuurrggkk…” My teeth snapped painfully shut as the electricity flowed through my jaw, dancing across my nerves. It stabbed into the two fillings I had in my back teeth, feeling like icepicks digging into my molars. My throat constricted and I couldn’t make any sound other than a wet gurgle. It felt like an entire hive of wasps was stinging my ass and tongue at the same time. I convulsed as much as the braces would allow. The agonizing pulses kept going for at least ten seconds.

            No, I can’t give up! I have to ignore the pain. Have to! Someone has to hear me! “Somebody he-aaoooww!” Another wave of shocks. It hurt too much. I couldn’t stand any more. Defeated, I slumped into the embrace of the braces, tears flowing down my cheeks. I could still hear the lawnmower mowing, the dog still barking. Nobody had a chance of hearing the short outbursts I could manage. “Oh, god, somebody save me.”

            I cried on and off for the next hour or so.

……

            An emotional numbness settled over me. I figured out how to pull the water tube to my lips using my tongue. I had to suck on it a while before water would come through the long tube, but at least it was something to do. I could barely look around the room. All I could see without straining was the far wall and the ceiling. It didn’t take long for me to start getting bored out of my skull. Was this all I had to look forward to? How long did she say she wanted to keep me like this? Years? I was afraid I’d go crazy from boredom within a week. I desperately wanted to be doing something, anything. God, I wished I was at work. Anywhere that wasn’t that room.

            I wondered what was going on at work. All of my projects would be ruined if I wasn’t able to get back soon. What if I was here for weeks? How long before they replaced me? Were people already talking in my absence, perhaps someone who had an eye on my position? No, surely, they would let me come back. No one could replace me; I was far too valuable an asset to the company. Damn it all! Evelyn was screwing with my whole life and career. The pain and indignities she had forced upon me were bad enough, but if she caused me to lose my job on top of everything else, I swore I would eviscerate her.

            Twice more I desperately attempted a call for help, both times I was rewarded with nothing but searing pain. Each time it seemed to hurt worse. It was like I was getting more sensitive instead of inured to it. Around noon, I realized–judging by the growing itching and burning sensation around my crotch and butt–that I was getting a diaper rash from sitting in the soaked, dirty thing all night and morning. Wonderful. Just wonderful. I tried to wiggle my butt a little to scratch the itch, but that just made the burning worse. Not long after came the dreadful realization that the cramps in bowels were not related to the cramps everywhere else, and I was forced to mess myself. And then I just had to lie in it. Oh, you’re going to pay for this. I swear to god.

            I measured time be slowly marking the shadows as they crept along the walls. I became intimately familiar with the seven different flower patterns on the wallpaper – no, eight, I missed the little buds. Those counted as flowers, right? Oh, two different kinds of buds! That makes nine flowers. I heard a creak and was startled at seeing the door opening on its own. Then I saw it was just the cat again. “Oh, it’s you.”

            The cat just sat in the middle of the oval rug and stared at me.

            “Kitty, just between you and me, your owner is a freaky, psycho bitch. Hey, why not pull a Lassie for me? Go get help, kitty, go for help! Go bring that stupid lawnmower guy. Meow until he follows you back here. Help, help, Kathy’s stuck in the well!” I said. The cat had started grooming itself. “Aw, crap, I give up. Some help you are. Here, kitty. Heeeere, puss puss puss.”

            Ignoring my calls, the cat curled up in the chair and went to sleep. The room was heating up in the midday sun and it was making me drowsy. With nothing else to do, I napped. Then I would wake up, fight the braces, curse or cry, plot revenge, and then, after going out of my skull from boredom, nap again. Repeat, ad nauseam.

Chapter 6

            In spite of the fear, hatred, loathing, disgust, and general ill-will I felt towards Evelyn, I was almost relieved when I heard her coming in downstairs. Interacting with someone, even if that someone was a lunatic, had to be better than this interminable boredom. Well, as long is she didn’t hurt me anymore. The cat darted out of the room.

            Meow, meow. “Hewwo, Jinxy, mommy’s home!” came Evelyn’s muffled voice. I could hear the sounds of groceries being put away. Then she did other things downstairs. I knew she was making me wait on purpose. Finally, I heard her coming up the stairs. “Ah, there you are,” she said as she entered the room, “exactly where I left you. Are we having fun, yet? Did you enjoy your first day of vacation?”

            “You’re going to pay for this,” I growled.

            “Something stinks. Oh my, is it you?” she asked.

            “I hate you.”

            “I’m sure you do,” she replied, smugly. “Oh well, better get you changed before supper. I promised I would.” She went about attaching the hoist so she could lift my lower half off the bed to easily access the diapers. Unlike the first time, I was already bent into a half-sitting position, so the corset didn’t crush the wind out of me when the hoist pulled my feet up- I just kind of tottered backwards, like a see-saw with my butt as the fulcrum. Undoing the dirty diaper, she commented, “My, what a mess! Looks like you got a rash, too. See? That’s what happens.”

            I could do nothing but endure her cleaning me up. At least I would be clean again, but for how long? “Do you get off on this?” I grunted. “Perverted, sow freak.”

            “You know, I could refasten this diaper right over that filthy mouth of yours. Fitting, wouldn’t you say?”

            “You wouldn’t dare. You wouldn’t!”

            “You don’t think so? You really don’t know me very well, do you?” She finished cleaning and powdering my irritated, burning skin and put a dry diaper on me. It actually felt good, compared to the soggy mess I had been sitting in for about twelve hours. Once I was returned to a normal position, she calmly took the used diaper and made as if to wrap it around my head.

            I contorted in the braces seeing the foul mess come close to my face. “No! Don’t! God, no, please, I’m sorry!”

            “Do you mean it?”
            “Yes,” I whispered, vehemently. “I’m sorry.”

            “One of these days, you’ll learn that only one person is in control here, and it’s not you.” She took the diaper away and examined the bedside table. “Ah, I see you drank a lot of water today. That’s good. And, according to this, you got four shocks today. Did anyone come to your rescue? I didn’t think so. I told you–you’re too far away for anyone to hear you, anyway. All you’re doing is hurting yourself. So, were you shouting for help, or was it an accident?”

            “I’m not talking to you.”

            Evelyn smirked. “You can talk to me. I’m your therapist. That’s what I’m here for.” Seeing that I wasn’t going to respond to her jabs, she shrugged and went towards the door. “Maybe you’ll feel better after supper.”

            “Fat fucking chance, you bloated, twisted–” I started.

            She turned around, and she was grinning viciously. “I warned you.”

            “No, wait!” I squealed in horror and revulsion as she placed the filthy diaper over my face and wrapped it around my head. I couldn’t believe that she was really doing it. I gagged and screamed loud enough for the shocks to kick in, and then I was convulsing motionlessly in the braces with a dirty diaper over my face. It was sticking to my skin. I couldn’t see anything. I gasped for mouthfuls of air, but all I got was more foulness. I regained control of myself enough to speak. “Can’t breathe! I can’t breathe! Get it off me, get it off!” I howled. Whether she had left, or was just standing aside watching the show, I couldn’t tell.

            I sat there for I don’t know how long, possibly an hour, quaking with unbelievable disgust and humiliation. I couldn’t even shake my head to dislodge it. I was actually furious with myself for being so pathetically helpless. Finally, I felt her presence in the room. The diaper was taken away and I could breathe fresh air again. She wiped my face clean with wet naps. “My dinner’s ready. I’m going to go eat. If you can behave yourself, I’ll feed you later,” she said. I was too demoralized to say anything snide when she left, that time. Not audibly, anyway.

……

            Later came, and I submitted to being fed some kind of pasta and chicken dish. I was too hungry to hold a hunger strike by way of protest. I managed to hold my tongue, but I glared at her the whole time. Evelyn was mercifully quiet–for once. After I finished eating, she asked me if I felt a little stiff.

            “What do you think?”

            “I think it’s time for a little calisthenics,” she announced.

            “Cali-what? Are you serious?” I asked, thinking she was teasing me again.

            “Just part of your daily routine,” she said. She removed the spreader bars between my legs and unlocked the knee and hip joints of one of the braces. My leg was free! It hurt a little when I tried to move it, though. “Do I need to tell you what I’ll do if you start kicking or resisting me?” she asked. I gave her a spiteful glace and looked away. “If I feel you tense up, I’ll beat you. Just try to relax.”

            She took my leg and made it bend, making my cramped, stiff muscles ache and my joints pop. It hurt, but felt so good at the same time, having been laying straight for over twenty-four hours. I groaned with pleasure. She did that for a while, loosening it up, but not for as long as I would have wished. I saw that she was fixing to re-lock the joints. “No, don’t!” I cried and reflexively pushed her away with my foot, causing her to stumble backwards.

            Without a word, and before I could even register what she was doing, she picked up that baton thing and struck me hard with it. She aimed for the meaty part of my thigh, between the two brace cuffs. My leg spasmed in pain and I screamed, earning myself a shock at the same time. She smacked me again, and again, in the same spot, as if my quivering leg was a stubborn cockroach she was trying to kill. In seconds I was reduced to a crying, blubbering mess. I stared at her in terror. She was really hitting me! She may have degraded and humiliated me before, but this was the first time she intentionally caused me serious pain, aside from that shocker. Suddenly, this all seemed to get a lot more serious.

            “Are you done?” she asked.

            “No more, no more!”

            “I’m not a–Kathy, pay attention to me–I’m not a sexual sadist. I don’t take pleasure in hurting you. Well, perhaps a little, but that’s just because of who you are. I’d rather not have to do that again. Are you going to make me have to hurt you again?” she asked.

            “No, please, no,” I begged.

            “Say that you’ll be good,” she ordered.

            “I’ll be good, I’ll be good.”

            “I don’t want you pushing or resisting me again when I undo your braces. Is that clear?”

            “Yes.” God my leg hurt so bad. I would have agreed to anything to keep her from hitting me again.

            “I need to do this to keep you limber. Otherwise, in a short time, your tendons would tighten and your joints will freeze like that, and it would be extremely painful for you to try to move them,” she said. “Is that what you want?”

            Could that really happen? I was horrified at the thought of my limbs being frozen in position so I could no longer move, even without the braces on. “No.”

            “Good.”

            Evelyn finished locking the joints, and then went on to my other leg to stretch things out. I was too upset to enjoy it. She did both my arms, one at a time. She spent about thirty minutes, altogether. When she was done, with that, she rolled me onto my side and tightened the corset. She only tightened it a little, but I could feel it. Then she put me in a slightly different position for the night. She had me laying flat on my back, with my knees bent and the toes of my boots poking into the mattress, looking like some blow up doll with her legs spread and ready for sex. I was too cowed to complain about that. I did, however, manage to ask if she would take off the boots and let me flex my feet, too. “Please, they hurt so bad.”

            “No, the boots aren’t coming off. Sorry.”

            “Please! How…” I was about to ask How can you be so cruel, then I realized what a stupid question that was. Of course she was cruel, or she wouldn’t be doing any of this.

            “You’ll get used to it,” she said. “Just like my sister had to get used to living in a wheelchair.”

            “That wasn’t my fault!” I shouted in a hoarse whisper.

            She smirked at me. “Be that as it may,” she said, simply, and left me alone for the rest of the night, except to return briefly to check on me and turn off the lights before bed.

……

            That night was a repeat of the first, as was the following day. Fitful, uncomfortable sleep, then having to cope with mind-numbing boredom and more disturbing episodes with Evelyn. It made me think of how they describe being a soldier at war–long periods of boredom punctuated by brief moments of terror. It was driving me crazy. If only I could do something, just to keep myself occupied. I wanted to work! Type something, lick envelopes… anything! All I could do to pass the time was stare at the wallpaper again all day and listen to the very distant sounds of suburban life. That, and categorize all the aches and pains of my agonizingly cramped muscles, which only seemed to get worse.

            The cramps in my feet and calves seemed to be the worst. Sometimes they went mercifully numb, other times it felt like a hot, metal spike piercing through the soles of my feet and continuing straight up to my knees. And there was pain in my waist and ribs from the damn corset. And the pain in my upper belly that surely had to be an ulcer, which sure as hell wasn’t being helped by all the stress and fear I was undergoing. And the burning in my crotch and butt from the lingering diaper rash. Even my hands ached from being wrapped up. I had formed an ugly purple and yellow bruise where she had hit me. A fine addition to all the other bruises I could feel where I had fought the restraints. In desperation, I screamed for help twice that day. I didn’t really expect an answer, and I didn’t get one.

Chapter 7

            Evelyn came back that evening and went about her usual business of preparing supper. I hated how she just went on with her daily life as if she didn’t have me imprisoned in her attic. She could at least take off work, or something! I definitely didn’t like the fact that after just a few days she already seemed so used to having me around that it wasn’t a big deal to her. She just seemed so… dedicated to this insanity. I had been forced to give up hope that this was just some hoax, some twisted revenge prank to make me feel sorry about Alice and then I’d be released. No, not if she was so willing to beat me with a big, fucking stick. You couldn’t do that to someone and then just let bygones be bygones. The protective shell of desperate disbelief had been shattered. What replaced it was dread and a quiet, seething anger at the injustice of it all.

            Evelyn came up to check on me. She didn’t say much, but she was grinning the whole time as if she had some secret that she was bursting to tell. Eventually I couldn’t stand it any longer and had to ask. “What’s got you looking so damn chipper?”

            “Do I look happy? Oh, it’s nothing,” she said. “It’s just that the police came to visit me at work today.”

            I tensed up. “They did?” They’re looking for me already? I wondered. That’s great! Soon I’ll be free!

            “Yes. We had a little chat, since I was one of the last people to see you. Seems you’ve turned up missing.” She laughed.

            “Oh, really,” I said dryly. Yeah, you keep teasing me, you cow. Soon you’ll be singing a different–

            “Well, I told them we had a full session and you left, just like any other day. But the really good news is that, apparently, a couple women have been raped in that area, one even abducted and missing. I mean, that’s awful news, and I hope they catch the son of a bitch and fry his balls, if you’ll pardon my language. But my point is it is good for you and me. They’re positive you’ve been abducted by this guy! Isn’t that great?”

            My heart sank as I realized the implications. Not only did they have no reason to suspect Evelyn, they had a far more likely suspect in this rapist guy. What if they caught him? Surely, he wouldn’t admit to abducting me, and he would be telling the truth. But would they buy it? Would they just write me off as a missing victim, or keep investigating and searching? “No, no, noooo…”

            “Don’t be so glum. It’s perfect! Now you don’t need to worry about having your vacation disturbed.” She hummed cheerfully to herself as she plumped up my pillows.

            “I swear… I swear.” Rage was pounding in my temples.

            “Hmm? What is it you swear, honey?” she asked in a mocking, mother-daughter tone.

            “You better pray,” I growled, barely able to keep my volume under the ‘danger’ level, “you better pray I don’t get loose. I swear I’ll make you suffer for this. I’ll make what you’ve done to me seem like… like… I’ll make you wish you got off as easy as Alice.”

            Evelyn was smiling. “I’m sure you would. Because you’re a nasty, little cunt, aren’t you?” she asked, in that same, sweetly condescending tone.

            “You bet I am! You have no idea,” I hissed, spittle flying from my lips. “You’re gonna be soo fucking sorry when I get my hands on you!”

            “Oh, I’m sure I will,” she said, kicking off her pumps and hiking up her skirt. “I’m positively terrified.”

            “They’re gonna catch you. They’re onto you, you know they are!” I shouted in a hoarse whisper. “Any minute, any day now. Then you better watch your back!”

            Evelyn had peeled off her pantyhose during my tirade and rolled them up into a squishy, taupe ball. Still smiling, she forced her balled up pantyhose into my mouth. “Open wide.”

            “You’ll be sorry!” I shouted one last time before being gagged. I tried to stop her, but even my strong jaw muscles, toned by years of nocturnal teeth-grinding, couldn’t keep out a determined Evelyn. “Nngaaah!”

            She pushed a large portion of the lightly-scented nylon between my teeth and into my cheeks. She wrapped one of the legs around my head to hold the pantyhose in and tied it off. “Well, while we’re waiting for me to be sorry, I’m going to go ahead and make dinner,” she said, patting me on the head. “You know what your problem is? You still think you’re the protagonist in this little dramatic tableau of ours.”

……

            I refused to eat anything that night. Evelyn teased me, asking me if her hose tasted so good that it had ruined me for regular food. When she took the soggy wad of nylon out of my mouth, I tried to spit at her. It mostly got on myself. Evelyn found this terribly amusing and gagged me again. I glared at her, breathing furiously through my nose while she changed the diaper, unlocked the brace joints, and went through the routine of stretching my muscles. Moving my leg made the bruise on my left thigh hurt, but that didn’t stop me from doing what I did next.

            Once my right arm was free, I waited as she started to bend it. I lunged out, my arm slipping from her grasp, and clipped her hard on the chin with the metal part of the brace that was on my wrist. With a shout of pain, she recoiled and clasped her chin. “That hurt, you little slut!”

            I felt a mixture of vicious glee at having been able to hurt her a little, mixed with dread in knowing that she was sure to punish me. Oh shit, I’m in for it now, I thought as she retrieved that damned baton. I flailed my free arm as much as I was able in the brace, trying to make it difficult for her to hit me. I managed to eject the wad of pantyhose from my mouth. “No, wait, don’t!”

            “Are you sorry you hit me?” she asked me, brandishing the bludgeon.

            Crap, what was I supposed to say? I swallowed my pride, moved by self-preservation. “Y-yes, I’m sorry. Don’t hit me with that,” I said, trying to sound calm and reasonable.

            “Are you? Then lay your arm still and take your punishment.”

            “Whaaat?”

            “Either do that, or I’ll beat you twice as long, and twice as hard,” she said, twisting the blunt end of the baton against the palm of her free hand.

            “I… I won’t do that. Please, I can’t,” I begged, not wanting to allow her to hit me. It wasn’t as if I could do even anything with an arm free. Even with both arms’ braces unlocked, I wouldn’t be able to free myself from bondage at all. It was all locked on. I was starting to truly understand how limited my options were in the situation I was in, and I didn’t want to get hurt even worse. As I thought about my lack of options, I was slowly lowering my arm. She was watching me do it, and I saw a tiny, confident smirk affect the corner of her lips. That made the anger came flooding back and I yanked my arm away. “Nooo!”

            With hardly any difficulty at all, Evelyn snagged my arm and held it down so that I wouldn’t jerk, and rapidly hit me half a dozen times around my upper arm. She had beat my leg a lot harder, but the individual blows on my arm hurt more since I didn’t have as much padding there. I cried and made noises, but at least I was able to keep myself from getting shocked for being too loud. She locked the braces in place.

            “I can keep doing this for as long as you want. It takes me very little effort to cause you a great deal of pain. Take that into consideration when you’re thinking of acting up again. You know, I should think you’d be more appreciative. I don’t have to move you at all. I could just let your joints freeze in position the way they are. Keep this up, and I will.”

            Appreciative, my ass. I want to be free! I sobbed quietly to myself. I couldn’t bear being so helpless to someone I loathed so much. “Just leave me alooone.”

            “You want me to leave you alone? Fine.” She retrieved some things from one of the dresser drawers. They turned out to be a pair of soft earplugs and a blindfold. The snug blindfold was fuzzy inside and blocked all light. It was strangely violating feeling her poke the squishy plugs into my ears. To my surprise, she took a second pair of earplugs and inserted them deep into my nose, forcing me to breathe through my mouth.

            “There,” she said, speaking loudly so I could hear her, “I’ve set the control to zero tolerance. I wouldn’t make a peep, if I were you. I’ll leave you alone and we’ll see how you like it.” She left, or I assumed she left, leaving me in darkness.

……

            The next experience surpassed any of the hell I had experienced so far. It was horrible. Prisoners in solitary confinement can pace their cells. Even lunatics in a straightjacket and padded room could flop around. Not me. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t hear, I couldn’t even smell. I couldn’t move or make a sound. I couldn’t do anything except exist. The only thing I could do for myself was suck on the water tube when I got thirsty. I only tested the shocker once by making the lightest sound (she might have been bluffing, after all), and I suffered for it. If anything, the loss of my other senses made the pain worse. All the pain was worse. The cramps were magnified tenfold, the hunger pangs became agony, the bruises throbbed constantly, and even the diaper rash I was recovering from burned with a fresh vigor. I was able to keep track of time for a little while, but before long it got all screwed up. I wet and messed myself again and had to lie in it, knowing that it would make the rash even worse. I was desperate for that cat to come in and sit next to me, just for some company and a little sensory input. It didn’t come. Had an hour just passed, or was it just a minute? When I got cold and shivery, I assumed it had to be late at night, but that might have just been in my head. Or was it morning? Had Evelyn gone to work? Please come back, please come back, was the mantra going through my head.

            I started thinking crazy things, like maybe she was just going to let me starve to death in darkness and silence. Maybe she would just sit there and watch as my futile struggles grew more desperate, then weaker, then stop altogether. No, surely she wouldn’t do that after all the trouble she had gone through to get me there. But what if? Or what if she got in a car wreck while going to work and got hospitalized or killed? How long would it be until someone came into her house? What if she was going to leave me there until I went completely out of my mind? I feared that that wouldn’t take long. I was already having hallucinations of the corset and braces getting tighter, crushing the life out of me.

……

            Torn by pain, hunger, and the tortures of my own mind, I had grown so desperate that I kept having to consciously stifle my screams before I voiced them and hurt myself. Without warning, I felt a touch at my forehead. It startled me so much I almost shouted just from surprise. Evelyn peeled away the blindfold and I was momentarily blinded by the lights in the room, even though they were dim. Evelyn stood beside the bed, studying me sternly, but all I could think was Thank god I’m alive! I can see again! She didn’t leave me here to die! I was euphoric.

            She plucked the plugs out of ears and nose. Air flowed into my ears and my senses were flooded with the odors of the room and my body, and the smell of food somewhere downstairs. “Well?” she asked. “Are you sorry, yet? Still want to be left alone? I turned up the controller, so you can speak quietly again.”

            “Ah… ah,” I croaked, my own voice sounding loud to my ears. “P-please. Please don’t do that to me again.”

            “I will if I you make me. And I can make it a lot worse for you, believe me. It’s only been about twenty-four hours. I could make this last a lot longer and be much more unpleasant.”

            “No, please, no.”

            “I don’t want you to move or fight me when I stretch your limbs out for you anymore. I want you to be nice and still.”

            “I can’t do this,” I whimpered. “I can’t handle this. Please.”

            “I didn’t say any of this was going to be easy, but it is going to happen. Now,” she said softly, “tell me that you need me.”

            I bit my lip, unwilling to look her in the eye.

            “Say it.”

            “I need you,” I whispered, my voice trembling with humiliation. I would probably have agreed to anything just then, just to keep her from returning me to that isolation.

            It seemed to satisfy her. “Alright then, open up. It’s broth again, I’m afraid.”

            It may have been just broth, but I was so hungry it could have been ambrosia. I couldn’t believe how grateful I was just to be able to stare at that damn wallpaper again. But as wonderful as it was just then, I knew that it wouldn’t take long for the boredom to settle in on me again.

Chapter 8

            Evelyn was happy the next morning because it was Friday, and that would mean she would be able to spend the whole weekend at home with me. Great. I got spend another tedious day staring at the ceiling (she had left my lying almost flat on my back), contemplating if boredom itself could actually cause someone to go insane. I tried to think about work, to think about what everyone would be doing at a certain time in the day. I tried concentrating on planning for projects I might never get the chance to finish just to keep my mind focused. It was hard, though. My thoughts kept wandering away on meaningless, frustrating tangents, going in circles. How could it be so difficult just to concentrate on something when there were no distractions?

            Evelyn was more excited than usual when she got back home. Apparently, some package she had been waiting for had arrived. She sat a big cardboard box on the floor of the room and started digging into it. I couldn’t see what she was pulling out, but I could hear the light tinkling of styrofoam peanuts landing on the floor. I knew it had to be bad news for me, but I was consumed by curiosity, nonetheless. “What is it? What did you get?”

            “Oh, Kathy, you’ll like this,” said Evelyn from the floor. I could just see the top of her head out of the corner of my eyes as she unwrapped something that sounded heavy. “I’ve been waiting for it to arrive all week. You don’t care for diapers much, do you?”

            “You know I don’t,” I said sourly. I was still sitting in soaked ones right then, and the rash was driving me crazy.

            “Well, this will take care of that little issue. It will also help in relieving you of some more control. Now be quiet, I need to read the instructions.”

            Instructions? For not being stuck in diapers? Just let me the hell up and I wouldn’t need diapers, you psycho! And what’s this about relieving me of control? Exactly how much control is it you think I have at the moment? I silently berated her with a snarl on my lips. I wasn’t about to say anything out loud, though, not after the previous day’s experience. I sighed and waited with fear-tinged impatience to learn what the next indignant phase of my torture would be.

            After a while, Evelyn was ready and hoisted my lower half up off the bed. The corset dug into me, since I was braced lying flat, until she unlocked the hip joints and my torso flopped back onto the mattress. My booted feet were high in the air and my butt was exposed. She took away the diaper and dried me. As distasteful as the thought was, I was actually getting used to her doing that. I felt her peeling off the electrode things that shocked my ass when I got too loud. That seemed promising. What came next, however, was the worst physical violation so far. “This may hurt a little,” she warned.

            I felt something hard and slippery nosing between my cheeks and press against my anus. Then she started pushing it inside. It was narrow at first, but quickly widened until it felt like it was tearing the tender orifice in half. I tensed up all over and found myself by crying freely at this invasion. She’s raping me, she’s raping me in my ass, oh my god I can’t believe this, make this stop, this isn’t right! “Stooop! Please! It hurts!” I shouted in the loud whisper I was being forced to come accustomed to.

            “I know,” she said, actually managing to sound a little sympathetic. “It won’t for long. Just for a minute. Bear down, it might help.”

            I whimpered through clenched teeth. The pain got worse as the intruder got even wider. I was positive I had to be bleeding by then. Then suddenly it narrowed, and the insulted muscles clamped down like a vice around the narrow stem. She stopped pushing. I could still feel some part of the thing pressing against my cheeks on the outside, and I tried to form a mental image. I wasn’t very well versed on the anatomy of sex toys, but based on what it felt like, she had just stuck a butt plug in me. A big one. That was her solution to wearing diapers? Just plug me so nothing would come out? I’d explode! I heard the sound of an air-pumping bulb being squeezed and felt a strange fullness in my bowels.

            “I’m inflating it so you won’t accidentally pass it,” she explained.

            “What is it? What are you doing?” I cried.

            She didn’t answer me. I felt her parting my pussy lips and probing around inside. Oh, god, what now? I wondered. She located my urethra and gently, but without hesitation, thrust a flexible, narrow tube inside. I knew it was useless, but I begged her stop anyway. The tube kept sliding deeply into me. It stung, but that was nothing compared to the humiliation I was suffering. I guessed she got it where she wanted it when I felt my bladder emptying. A catheter.

            She messed around with the plug and catheter a little more, then announced, “Alright, I think that should do it.” She lowered my butt back to the bed and arranged me so that I was in the semi-sitting position with pillows at my back. I could see the narrow catheter tube winding from my crotch to the edge of the bed. Accompanying it was a much a thicker tube that could only be attached to the nightmarish butt plug. Sitting against the wall, partially hidden from my limited field of vision, was some kind of machine into which the tubes ran. It looked like it had a water tank on top of it. “Nice and tidy. Alright, let’s test it!” she said excitedly.

            “Test what?”

            She went to the machine and turned it on. “It’s a device to assist bed-ridden individuals with their ablutions. This should make things so much easier. On a schedule, it pumps water from the reservoir, here, through the tube and into you. Then it pumps it back out into this sealed container for easy disposal. Oh, and it also collects your urine, so no more rashes. Good news, right?”

            An automatic enema machine? Oh, god! I couldn’t get my head around the absurdity of the situation. Evelyn pushed a button and the machine began to hum quietly. A few moments later, I felt warmth filling my insides. It kept going until I could hardly stand the pressure in my bowels. The corset compressing my guts probably didn’t help. Then it stopped.

            “Naturally the stainless steel butt plug isn’t standard issue attachment for medical equipment. I found a place online that makes them. It’s amazing what you can find online,” she said. “It should keep everything inside for ten minutes. You know, to loosen everything up.” Evelyn went about cleaning the up the packaging and taking it downstairs. All I could do was squirm in the braces, feeling powerful cramps in my belly and an insane urge to go the bathroom, but I couldn’t. Nothing leaked around the edges of the plug. Ten minutes later, Evelyn watched with interest as the thing turned back on and drained me empty, while I panted with discomfort. Then it started filling me up again.

            “It’s broken. It’s doing it again,” I said, fighting the urge to panic. I had an image of the machine not stopping, but continuing to pump water into me until something inside me burst.

            “That’s just the rinse cycle,” Evelyn said with clinical detachment.

            “I’m not a goddamn… washing machine,” I groaned as my bowels were refilled. This time, however, there was no holding period, and I was emptied as soon as I was full.

            Evelyn pushed a few buttons on the thing. She looked extremely satisfied with herself. “It works great! This machine wasn’t cheap, but it’s worth it. See how well I take care of you? Do you see? I’ll set it for twice a day. I think that should be enough, don’t you?”

            “Hooray,” I said weakly. For some reason, the experience had exhausted me.

            “Oh and just a word of warning–I attached electrodes to the plug, instead of your butt. That way, should you get too loud, the punishment should be a much more intimate experience.”

            Alarmed, I strained to see the electrode wires that lead to that horrible shocking device were back in place, disappearing under my butt. Oh, I did not want to know that, I thought.

            “I think this is all very fitting. This machine complements your braces nicely. Hard, cruel braces controlling your body; a cold, cruel machine controlling when you go to the bathroom. Doing what they’re made to do, to you, whether you like it or not. Yes, I like that very much.” Evelyn’s expression took on a malicious, teasing aspect. “You know–or did you not?–that a person can become dependent on enemas. The body gets so used to them after a while that it just cannot go without them. Isn’t that an interesting thought? I wonder how long that will take with you. I want you to think of that happening, how even if you were rescued, you would still need to stick a nozzle in your ass to irrigate yourself out, every day, for the rest of your life.”

            “That won’t happen.” I glared at her through tear-filled eyes. “Not ever.”

            “Of course not,” she agreed, “because I’ll be there to do it for you.”

            “Please no more. Please shut up. I can’t… I can’t deal… with this.”

            Evelyn shrugged, good-naturedly. “Alright. Want me to leave you alone?”

            “Yes. No, wait, not like that!” I exclaimed, remembering the words she used before she left me in isolation the other day.

            She laughed at my fear. She got pleasure from it. “I’m going to make supper,” she said, and went back downstairs.

            I heard Evelyn switch on the tv downstairs (still too quiet for me to hear it clearly to entertain myself) and start cooking. I could hear the cat playing with the empty box and batting the styrofoam peanuts around. What a nice, normal home life I have, I thought, then found myself trying to resist the urge to laugh.

            And why not laugh? Less than a week ago I had been a successful businesswoman with a promising future. Now I was trapped in a bed and covered from head to foot in braces. From upwardly-mobile to immobile. The police thought some guy had kidnapped me, and god knew how long it would be until I was rescued. I had been humiliated, threatened, violated, beaten, gagged, deprived of my senses, nearly suffocated with a messy diaper, silenced by pain, and now I had an automatic enema sucking away at my guts. Not to mention that I was going crazy with boredom. All in under a week. What wasn’t there to laugh about?

Chapter 9

            Saturday morning I was allowed to sleep in. Amazingly enough, in spite of the constant cramps and fear, I was beginning to sleep a little more soundly. It was probably just exhaustion. I woke to the bizarre sensation of my belly being filled with water. I made a startled yelp of alarm and got to experience the new butt plug shooting electricity through my ass while my jaw was stabbed through with agony. Wonderful. Awake for twenty seconds and already in tears. I wept through the duration of the enema.

            “I hate you,” I snarled at Evelyn when she came to bring me breakfast.

            “My, my. Get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning? Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot. You can’t get up at all.”

            “I despise you, I loathe you, I–”

            “But you can’t do anything about it, can you?” she asked as she sat the bed tray across my lap. “And don’t think that doesn’t thrill me. Now open up.”

            She continued to chatter idly while she fed me, as companionably as if I was an old friend rather than a kidnap victim who wanted to throttle her. I was getting used to being ignored like that; she always dismissed my anger as if it was of no more consequence than a spoiled child’s random tantrum.

            “Weekends are my gardening days,” she was saying, popping a bit of fruit into my mouth. “It’s my little hobby. Having to deal with other people’s problems all week, it’s such a relief to just get my hands dirty. Nice, organic work, instead of abstracts and emotional problems. The flower beds definitely need weeding. I’ve had to neglect them a little since I brought you here. Do you like gardening?”

            I looked away. I didn’t want to share anything more about myself than she already knew.

            “You didn’t give yourself time for many hobbies, did you? Well, now the chance has passed. You really should have tried harder to spend more time enjoying the simple pleasures in life. It might have made you a better person. But that’s neither here nor there. I’m going to run to the nursery and pick up some mums. Oh, and a flat of alyssum. Mustn’t forget the alyssum. If you ask me nicely, I might get a pretty flower while I’m there to brighten up your room. Hmm?”

            In response, I spat a half-chewed peach slice at her. It hit her in the chest. My aim was improving. Evelyn plucked the peach of her lap and dropped it onto the plate, then picked up the tray. “You keep that up. See where it gets you. Well, I know what I’m going to do today. What are your plans for today?”

            “Besides hating your guts?”

            She smiled. “Yes, besides that. Oooh, I think I know what you’ll do. You’re going to just lie here and relax. Sound fun to you? Good.”

            She kept coming up to check on me throughout the day, occasionally streaked with dirt and sweat. Once, she entered with a conspiratorial look on her face that made me instantly uneasy. “Look what I found,” she said, and showed me a large, brown snail that she was holding by its shell. The snail had to be over an inch long and it’s eyestalks were sticking out and moving around. I shuddered. I hated bugs and anything without legs, and snails had the ickiest of all those features all at once. “It must have avoided the snail poison,” she said. “I have nothing against them personally, but they do tend to munch up a garden in no time at all. I have to sprinkle snail poison pellets to keep them under control. Did you know they’re hermaphroditic? They can even fertilize their own eggs.”

            “Great. Thanks for the biology lesson.”

            “I saw it and it reminded me of you. Lives inside a shell, defends itself by being slimy… that sort of thing.”

            I glared at the ceiling. “Nice.”

            “I just brought it up because I thought you might be getting lonely. Everybody needs a friend. So here you go.”

            “Huh? What are you–? No!” I watched in helpless horror as she reached over and placed it on my face. Oh, god, I could feel its cold, wet foot spread out and glue itself to my skin, right near the corner of my mouth. I let out a strangled moan of pure revulsion.

            “Aw, that’s sweet. It likes you.”

            “Get it off! Unnnh. You’re such a… freak!” I hissed through gritted teeth. Snail torture? Who does that sort of thing to someone? I could feel it moving. My hair stood on end.

            Evelyn looked quite delighted with herself. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. Ta.”

            For the next half-hour or so I had to keep myself from hyperventilating as the slimy thing made its agonizingly slow way over my lips, nose, and even over my eyelid. Were these things toxic to touch or something? I didn’t know! All I knew was it was gross, gross, gross! Finally, and mercifully, it moved off my face and into some plastic part of the head brace. Evelyn came and plucked it off some time later. She told me it had gone to sleep. After she left, I conjured up some very inventive fantasies of her somehow managing to choke on her own snail poison.

……

            Other than that disgusting and traumatic episode, the day was uneventful. In the past, that snail thing would have been enough for me to retaliate physically, but I didn’t dare fight when she worked my stiff, aching muscles and did the daily tightening of the corset that evening. One painful beating might not have been enough to keep me quiescent, but two was more than enough. Her taunting attitude softened somewhat throughout the day, to the point where she barely said a word during supper. Her silence was a welcome change.

            Falling asleep in the darkness was becoming an automatic response. Once the lights were out, the only thing there was to do was sleep. Except for pain and soreness, there was nothing particularly physically tiring during the days, and certainly nothing mentally challenging. As a result of that and the boredom naps I took throughout the day, I wasn’t particularly tired enough for a full night’s sleep. However, lying there in the darkness without even the wallpaper to look at, my mind was starting to just shut itself down once the lights were off.

            I was just starting to doze off, some time after Evelyn had shut off the lights. I was startled to hear her coming back up the stairs. I assumed she had forgotten something, though I couldn’t think of what that could be. I’d had my evening enema, the shocker thing was on, as always, and my braces were all locked in position–I was set for the night. I saw her silhouette in what little moonlight could come through the small window. I felt her touch my arm.

            “Wha? What’s going on?” I asked.

            “Hush, I don’t want to hear you,” she said. I saw the LED lights of the control device move in the darkness as she picked it up. “Setting it to max sensitivity. You need to be very, very quiet.”

            I gulped. I hated it when set it to that. I couldn’t whisper, couldn’t even groan. I almost made a noise, though, when I felt her gripping the braces and jostling me, tugging me closer to the edge of the bed. I was afraid she was going to drag me right off and let me fall onto the floor. She stopped and rearranged the pillows. The braces had me lying almost flat on my back, so not too many pillows were necessary. She went around the foot of the bed, and I heard her curse softly to herself as she tripped on the enema tube that stretched across the floor. The mattress creaked, and I realized she was climbing into bed with me. Oh, no, what now? I wondered.

            “Shhh, be quiet,” she told me, though shushing me was completely unnecessary. She laid down in bed next to me. I was bounced on the mattress as she scootched her way over to me. Her nightgown brushed against my legs as she settled herself in. She was lying onto her side, facing me in the dark. I could feel her fingers tracing the bars and leather straps of the braces, slowly caressing the claustrophobic prison. I inwardly cringed as I felt her touching my bare skin.

            What are you doing? Don’t touch me like that! How dare you! I cried with impotent rage.

            “I couldn’t sleep,” she finally said, her face close enough that I could feel her breath on my ear. “All day long I’ve been thinking about you. Couldn’t get my mind off you, really. Thinking of you up here, in your beautiful braces. So lovely.” Her voice was soft and drowsy. I might have assumed she was a little drunk, but I knew she wasn’t. She was aroused, is what she was. My skin crawled. Her hand explored the braces and my body. She didn’t do anything overtly sexual, thank god, but she was touching me with such intimate familiarity. Worse, she did it possessively, as if I was a pet like that black cat of hers. She edged closer to me, hugging me, and I could feel her soft belly resting on my arm. I didn’t imagine that could be very comfortable for her, what with me being covered with metal bars and joints. She spoke into my ear. “It makes me so happy when I think of you being up here, needing me. Makes me feel warm.”

            In the quietest voice I can manage, little more than an exhalation, I breathed, “I hate you. I hate you so much.”

            I wasn’t even sure if she heard me until she replied, “That’s okay. I’m starting to not hate you.”

Chapter 10

            Over two weeks passed before anything eventful happened. The only thing happening was boredom. Stagnation. Ennui. Tedium. Monotony. Dullsville. I had a lot of time to think of words to describe my experience. A whole fucking thesaurus worth. I never would have guessed that being kidnapped could be so maddeningly boring. Wake up, get an enema, get fed breakfast, stare at the walls, fight the braces, nap, get fed supper, stare at the walls again, nap, get another enema, then sleep. Day after day. I saw that damn wallpaper on the back of my eyelids. Sometimes the cat, Jinx, would come into the room and sleep on my bed. That was a huge event for me.

            As much as I detested admitting it, I was starting to look forward to Evelyn coming up to sit and talk to me. Except for when she behaved cruelly towards me, anyway. I hated her as much as ever, but at least her presence broke up the tedium. I didn’t have much to say to her. Heck, nothing happened to me that I could talk about, even if I wanted to. What could I say? ‘Oh, hey, I heard a blue jay outside the window today. Twice! Isn’t that exciting?’

            I was developing a strange new talent, though. Driven by the weight of unending boredom, I found myself becoming able to just shut my mind off. Sort of. I don’t know what exactly to call it. Maybe a trancelike state, or even meditation, I don’t know. It just seemed like when the lack of stimuli became too much to bear, I’d just kind of go blank. Hours would pass and I’d be only vaguely aware of what was going on around me. The problem was, it didn’t always work consistently or very often, and beyond that, I got so freaked out about the image of me lying there, staring blank-eyed at nothing for hours, like some kind of braindead person, that it discouraged me from trying to do it on purpose.

             A couple times a week Evelyn would come and sleep in my bed. She would whisper things in my ear, about how beautiful I was and junk like that. She would rub the braces as if I they were a part of me that I could feel. She would touch me, not exactly sexually, but she would touch me all the same. It still made my skin crawl, but I couldn’t help but start to feel… I don’t know. I was just so isolated and alone. It was just a relief to have another human being there after all that quiet nothingness, even if it was her. Sometimes I even caught myself feeling grateful for the attention. Can you believe that? Grateful! I would be disgusted with myself afterwards.

            A few times I tried to call for help again and got shocked for it. The horrible, invasive pain of those shocks, especially now that they went straight into me through the plug, was starting to really have an effect on me. I hated it. I feared it. It made me ill just to think about it, and I would have to steel myself for hours just to get the courage to make a simple loud noise. Then it would be even longer before I had the courage to try again. Two days would pass before I dared cry out, then three. It was getting harder and harder to justify causing myself that pain. I knew no one would come, but it just felt like not trying was the same as giving up and resigning myself to stay there for as long as Evelyn wanted. I just couldn’t do that.

            The awful truth that I might never get rescued was starting to sink in. I had been laying in that bed for over three weeks. If the police had any leads, surely they would have found me by then? All I could do was pray for a real opportunity to get free myself. I dreamed of escaping, bursting through the front door, and running naked through the streets screaming for help. Or maybe if I got free, before I went for help, I’d tie Evelyn in bed in for a few weeks. Let her see how she liked it. Thoughts like that kept me entertained through many long, dull hours.

            Mercifully, and disturbingly, I was kind of getting used to being in the braces and corset. Not that I found them comfortable at all, but the cramps were going away. It used to feel like I had hot wires digging into my muscles, but that eventually passed. My ballet-pointed feet and calves, which had had some of the worst of the cramps, seemed to have gone numb. I hadn’t been able to so much as wiggle my toes for almost a month, but now I couldn’t even feel them, aside from the occasional pins and needles. There was no longer as much pain in my body, which was good, but the physical numbness also caused me to feel even more disconnected from everything.

……

            “You wouldn’t believe work today,” Evelyn told me one evening as she was starting to bending my limbs. “Three obsessive compulsives in a row. One of them couldn’t sit still until I let him arrange the books in my office according to size. Some days I just want to smack ‘em in the face and tell them to get over it. But that seldom works. According to literature.”

            “Evelyn…”

            “Yes?” She was working the kinks out of my right leg.

            “Listen. Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone.”

            She sighed and shook her head, like a mother refusing to get her child something ridiculously impractical she wanted, such as a pet pony. “We’ve been through this before.”

            “No but listen. I-I understand what Alice went through. What she’s still going through. I understand now how mean I was. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. I’m really, truly sorry for what I did. Okay? I’ll send money to her every month, whatever you want. Anonymously, if you want. I’ll get on my knees and beg her for her forgiveness. Just let me go.”

            “Kathy, you’ve told me all this before. It’s not going to work.”

            “But listen! I won’t tell anyone I was here. I swear. I’ll never tell a soul for as long as I live. I swear to god. I swear on my life,” I said, desperation creeping into my voice. “I’ll tell the police that I had a nervous breakdown. I just ran off to… to Seattle. Anywhere! They’ll probably be pissed at me, but people’ll be too glad that I’m alive and safe to investigate it much. Right? I… I’ve probably lost my job, but I can get another. I’ll do any job you say. Something non-stressful, like you want for me. I could do something with plants, like you like to do. Wouldn’t that be good? Good for me? Low stress, right?”

            “My, my. You have been thinking a lot about this.”

            “Please! I’m begging you. It’ll work. I know it will. Just give me a chance. Let me go, please, let me go.” My loud whisper voice was cracking from doing so much talking. I had tried all of this before, but I couldn’t keep it from coming out of mouth. Barely a day went by lately without me trying to bargain with her. I knew I sounded pathetic. I knew my pleading did nothing but entertain her. It probably even turned her on, for all I knew. I just couldn’t help it. “You’re getting tired of me, right? Taking care of me is just a burden, right? If not already, it will be soon. Come on, just think about it, okay? I won’t tell anyone, just let me have my life back!”

            Evelyn locked my leg back in its usual straightened position and smiled patiently at me. “You can keep this up if it helps you. I don’t mind. But it’s not going to do you any good. And it’s no good to delude yourself about things that aren’t going to happen. I’m becoming quite used to taking care of you. I enjoy it.”

            “No! No you don’t enjoy this. You don’t. You can’t. Please. Let me go. I’ll be good,” I cried. My lower lip was trembling. If I had foreseen myself simpering like this a few weeks ago, I would have been disgusted. Trying to maintain dignity didn’t mean much anymore. “I’ll be so good. I-I’ll even come back! Yes, I’ll come back. Maybe once a month? And you can do whatever you want to me for l-like a weekend or something. Every weekend! I’ll even visit you on my vacations! Just let me have my life back the rest of the time!”

            Evelyn laughed with genuine delight. “Good heavens! That’s a new one. Offering to come back part-time, are you? You really must be getting desperate.”

            “Just tell me you’ll think about it, okay?”

            “No, I won’t. You’re staying right here, my bit-of-soft-and-metal. You’re going to have to get used to it. I know it’s hard to accept. You’re mourning your old life. It’s perfectly natural.”

            I closed my eyes and stayed quiet while she finished with my arms. Tears trickled down the sides of my face and into the cups of my ears. I knew it was useless to keep trying. Maybe some day she would listen to me and I could convince her to let me go, but not right then. She was still having too much fun. A few minutes later I felt her pressing the skin on my forearm, making it taut to expose the skin that was normally covered by the snug wrist cuff of the brace.

            “Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed. “You have a pretty bad rash.” She went on to examine the skin under other cuffs. “You have them all over. Why didn’t you tell me?”

            “Would it have mattered?” I asked sullenly. Truth was, I didn’t even know I had rashes. The cuffs had always been hot and itchy. Lately, it had been getting worse, but I had just lumped that in with all the other discomforts in my body.

            “Of course it does. This is my fault. You’re my responsibility. I don’t want you getting sick on me.” She sighed. “Alright. I’ll just have to take everything off so I can bathe you.”

            “You’ll… what?” I couldn’t believe it. My mind suddenly raced with possibilities that might come from being unbraced. Chances for escape.

            “Maybe tomorrow evening. It’s going to be a chore.”

Chapter 11

            All the following day, while Evelyn was at work, I stared at the walls and daydreamed (plotted, to be more accurate) about what I could do once the braces were taken off. I tried to plan for different scenarios. I also thought deep and long on delicious ideas for the revenge that I would do to her if I got the upper hand. Assuming she tied me up first, it might be difficult to have an opportunity to free myself, but if one came I had to take it. I had to take control. I was the only one who could help me now. I thought perhaps if I could lure her into complacency, acting much more weak or willing than I actually was, then she might get careless. I was so excited I almost couldn’t nap.

            Once Evelyn got home I tried to act casual. Well, sort of casual. I didn’t want to think I was too eager, but she was still well aware of how much I was looking forward to being free of that damnable immobilizing cage. As the evening wore on, when I could no longer stand the suspense, I asked her, “You are going to take the braces off tonight, right? Like you said?”

            “Yes, of course. I have to deal with those rashes before they turn into something worse. I do want things to go smoothly, however, so I’ve just been making sure everything is ready,” she replied distractedly, during one of her trips upstairs. “I’ll do it after supper.”

            “Why not now? I just… you could let me feed myself, just for once. Please? I won’t try anything, I’ll be good. I mean it. I just want to be out of these things, just for a little while,” I said. “I’ve been really good lately, you know I have.” I winced inwardly at my ingratiating whine. What was worse, I was so desperate that it really wasn’t an act.

            “Don’t be silly,” replied Evelyn. My words, or their tone, must have aroused that side of her that got damp at my helplessness. “You know that feeding yourself is against the rules. What kind of vacation would this be if you had to lift a finger to feed yourself? All these months of treatment of letting you be free of the burden of responsibility would be for naught. I would have to start all over. You don’t want that, do you?”

            “Come on, just–”

            “I will decide when the braces come off, not you. And why is that?” she asked me. I mumbled something and she leaned forward. “What? I didn’t catch that.”

            “Because you’re the one in control.”

            “That’s exactly right.”

……

            After feeding me dinner, which consisted of soup and banana pudding (which I hate, but ate anyway), Evelyn sat next to the bed and watched me. I was getting impatient and nervous. I worried she might know that I was planning something and was maybe waiting for me to show my hand, as it were. She had brought a bucket full of steaming water and some sponges and soap. Great, a psycho sponge bath, I thought. Still, the sight of hot water was almost enough to make me salivate. I hadn’t had a bath in a month, after all. Boy, would a long, hot shower have ever felt so good? A sponge would have to do.

            “You look excited,” Evelyn observed.

            “I can’t it help it,” I admitted. “I can’t wait to be out of these things. And the boots, oh my god. That’s worth getting a rash just to be out of the boots.”

            “You know you’re going right back in them,” she said. “Boots, braces, and all.”

            “Uh, yeah,” I said uncomfortably. I felt flushed. “Well, it’ll be nice to be out of them for a little while, anyway. So… so when are we gonna do this?”

            “In a minute.”

            “Good. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.” I felt an unpleasant sense of vertigo hit me from out of nowhere.

            “I can see that. It certainly has made you chatty.”

            “Well, it’s… I just… oh god,” I moaned. I was so dizzy. Drowsy, too. The one other time I had felt like this was in Evelyn’s office, after she had fed me poison brownies. Oh, no! “No… no you didn’t just… you drugged me again! You bitch!”

            “Just relax, Kathy. Don’t fight it.”

            I gritted my teeth, quelling the urge to vomit. I was going to pass out and there was nothing I could do about it. I wouldn’t get a chance to escape. I wouldn’t even get a chance to experience being out of the braces. I wouldn’t even get to feel the bath! “It’s not fair!” I cried, before slipping into unconsciousness.

……

            Splitting headache. Light stabbing into my eyes. Drugged.

            The bitch. Oh, that evil bitch.

            I groaned. In my disorientation I instinctively tried to press my hands to my eyes, but they were fixed in position at me sides, as always. I waited for the pain drilling into my eyes to fade before daring to open them. I felt warm and snug all over. That was kind of pleasant. I was startled to feel something pressed to my lips. Evelyn was speaking to me. “Take these. It’s some ibuprofen. It should help.”

            “Eat me,” I mumbled, completely out of it. I rambled on a little, completely incoherent, and trailed off into silence.

            “Come on, it’ll make you feel better,” she insisted.

            I allowed her put them on my tongue and swallowed them with a sip of water from a cup held to my lips. I felt so wiped out. I might have fallen asleep again for a little bit. When I finally did come to enough to form coherent thoughts, I said, “You drugged me.”

            “I didn’t want to,” she replied, “but it was necessary. I didn’t want to worry about fighting with you the entire time. You were planning something. I know how your wicked, little mind works. This way was easier on both of us.”

            I bit back a pointless, bitter retort. My body felt tingly and raw all over. My hair was still a little damp. I felt weirdly sore as if it was the morning after a hard workout. I opened my eyes and was momentarily bewildered at the sight of purple. It took a second for me to realize that I was now wearing a purple bodysuit beneath the braces and corset. There wasn’t an inch of my flesh visible. So that’s why I felt snug and warm all over. From beneath the neck brace, down into the boots, and underneath the fresh tape that covered my hands, I was shiny purple. The spandex contrasted with the metal of the braces and the black boots and corset. I felt fetishier than ever. There was a zipper at the crotch that allowed the catheters and wires to pass through. It was almost strange to be wearing clothes again; I had been naked since I was kidnapped. It was a relief to not feel so exposed, but it would take some getting used to. “What did you do?”

            “Oh, I gave you a good scrubbing, powdered the rashes, trimmed your nails. That sort of thing. Nothing drastic. I picked out this unitard today after work. Do you like purple? It was either purple or black, and I thought you might like having some color to brighten up your days. It should really help prevent rashes in the future. And I’m sure you appreciate the chance for some modesty, yes?”

            I was suddenly disturbed by the image of Evelyn bathing me, touching me, however she pleased while I was passed out. Not that she wasn’t free to do that at any time given my extreme helplessness, but the idea of her doing it while I was limp and unconscious was just… icky. I thought again of how I missed any chance for escape, as well as a chance to be out of bondage for even just a little while. I growled and threw a mini-tantrum in the braces. “Not fair!”

            “Yes, I heard you the first time,” Evelyn said as she tidied up.

            I glared at her out of the corner of my eye. “I can’t believe you drugged me again. What else have you been slipping into my food without my knowing it?”

            Evelyn looked at the ceiling, as if in thought. “Hmm. Vitamins. Supplements. Valium, sometimes, when I think you need it. Oh, and myotoxic agents.”

            Toxic? That didn’t sound good. “My-oh-whats?”

            “Proteins that attack skeletal muscle tissue. It’s a synthetic derivative of notexin, a component of certain snake venoms. It’s used for laboratory work,” she said evenly.

            “You’re feeding me snake venom?”

            “Well, a derivative of–”

            “You’re killing my muscles?” I gaped at her in abject horror. Please, let her be kidding, please, please…

            “Not exactly. Not all at once. It weakens them a little more each day. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt your heart or internal organs, they’re a different kind of muscle, and your diaphragm should be fine. It mainly accumulates in the extremities and torso. Being braced is good for simulating being crippled, but before long, you really will be an invalid.”

             “You… can’t… do this to me!” I had to struggle to keep my voice quiet.

            “Whyever not, dear?” She smiled sweetly.

            “No, no, no-no-no. Please tell me you’re joking,” I sobbed, torn between fury and fear.

            “Alright, I’m joking,” she said.

            “You are?” I asked, desperate to believe her. “You are?”

            “Of course. Why would I do such a thing to you?”

            I studied her face through a veil of tears. “You’re lying to me.”

            “Don’t get all hysterical on me. I said I wasn’t doing it,” she said, rolling her eyes.

            “But you’re lying!” I accused.

            “Do you want it to be true?” she asked.

            “No, but–”

            “Then leave it be. I’m too tired for drama, and I’m pretty sure you are, too. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go get ready for bed.” She picked up the water bucket and went downstairs.

            I was so freaked out and confused, which wasn’t helped by my post-drugged state. Of course I wanted her to be kidding, just teasing to torment me. That would be just like her. But if it was a cruel joke, how come she sounded so knowledgeable about the stuff? I didn’t want to be full of myo-whatsit snake venom. Had my muscles been damaged? How would I know? Wriggling in the braces didn’t tell me a thing about how strong or weak I was.

            I refused to eat the following day, in spite of her assurances that there was nothing in the food. I couldn’t trust her. I spat my oatmeal at her instead. The day after that, however, I was just too hungry to maintain my hunger strike. I had to eat whether the food had muscle-killing seasoning or not. What else could I do?

Chapter 12

            Another week passed. It was a pretty tense, combative week. I was so upset by being knocked out and by the possibility of being slowly and literally crippled. I shouted, quietly, at her every chance I got. She remained unruffled, as always. She must have known my anger would burn itself out again. By the end of the week, I was back to trying to bargain with her.

            “I had an idea!” I told her as soon as she came in from work. “If you let me go, I could work as a receptionist at your office. That would be okay, right? I don’t know much about being a psychiatrist’s receptionist, but you know I could learn it really fast. I’m good at learning new things. You’d be able to keep an eye on me during the day, see? Making sure I wasn’t working too hard? Okay?”

            “You’re not holding down any job ever again, Kathy,” she said.

            “But why not? Even your sister can work if she wants to!”

            “That’s different. Alice isn’t being punished, other than paying the price for letting you get to her. But she almost paid for that with her life. Remember?”

            I got mad at myself for bringing up Alice. Talking about Alice always made her get vindictive towards me. “But… wait, I got another idea! What if,” I began again, “what if I wore braces to work?”

            “Wearing braces? At my office?”  

            “Yeah! Like, on my legs. You know, acted like I needed them. Used crutches. Everyone would think I needed them, and you’d enjoy seeing me in public like that, right?”

            “I… just don’t think that would work, hon,” she said. She was trying hard not to burst into laughter at my pathetic attempts at bargaining, I had to give her that.

            “Okay. Okay, what about this,” I said, sounding as if I was making a huge concession. “What if I wore them all the time, not just at work, but loose enough that I could, you know, move around. Like a normal person.”

            “Oh, you’re anything but normal.”

            “What if–”

            Evelyn waved a hand, dismissing everything I had said. “Enough. I actually came up here to give you a surprise.”

            “A surprise?” I asked, cautious. Her surprises often came in weird forms, like that automatic enema machine. Which, by the way, I was getting so used to I had actually started to look forward to when it would turn itself on. How sad is it when an enema is the highlight of your day?

            “Yes, since you’ve been so good lately. Well, not that your behavior’s been good. You stained my cream jacket the other day from spitting juice on me. However, since you haven’t been trying to fight me recently when I’ve been doing your physical therapy, I decided to reward you.”

            “With what?”

            “With this,” she replied, and fetched a large cardboard box from the little landing outside the door. She set it on the floor of my room.

            “I can’t see it.”

            “Yes, just a minute.” She pulled the dresser noisily across the floor so that it stood across from the foot of my bed, next to the door. She opened the box and, after removing some blocks of styrofoam packing, lifted out a small television set. She set it on top of the dresser across from me.

            “Oh my god! A tv! You got me a tv!” I practically burst into tears at the sight of the shiny, blank screen.

            She messed about the with cords. “I thought you’d appreciate it. It’s only for when I’m away at work. It goes off in the evenings. That means you don’t get to watch it until tomorrow. Understand?”

            “Awww,” I whined.

            “None of that,” she told me, taking a seat on the edge of my bed. “This is a gift just to help you pass the time, since you endlessly grouse about being bored. You only get this privilege so long as you’re good. It’s a responsibility. Do you think you can handle it?”

            I grimaced at her condescending tone of voice. I was in upper-middle management at my job at the time she had kidnapped me, and now she was talking to me about responsibilities like I was some three-year-old. “Yeah. I think I can handle it,” I answered dryly.

            She pinched my cheek in that grandmotherly way I hated. “That’s good to hear. Also, if you want to watch it, you need to tell me something I want to hear.”

            “What?”

            “Tell me that you’re my slave and I take very good care of you,” she said, smirking a little at my shock but otherwise completely serious.

            “I… I… fine. I’m you’re slave,” I said in a small voice, “and you take good care of me.”

            “Good. Now tell me you love me,” she said. “Say it like you mean it, even if you don’t.”

            Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me. There were so many nasty things I wanted to respond to her with, but I knew she wasn’t bluffing about not letting me have the tv. If I let my dignity win the battle, I would suffer for it with interminable boredom. I closed my eyes and said it, although saying it was about as easy as trying to swallow a spiny sea urchin whole. “I love you, Evelyn.”

            “Now tell me that you love being in braces and you never want to walk again.”

            “No! I won’t say that!”

            She shrugged. “Then I’ll take the television back,” she said, starting to get up. 

            “No, don’t!” I wanted that tv so bad I could taste it. I growled and rocked in the braces. I wanted to pound the sheets with my fists, if only I was able. Evelyn excelled at twisting knives in my guts. She sat, patiently watching me, waiting for me to speak. You’re just eating this up, aren’t you, bitch? I thought at her hatefully. She knew I was going to give in, so why should I bother postponing the inevitable? I swallowed my pride with an audible gulp. “I love braces. I never wanna walk again,” I said, trying to make the words sound as ugly as I could.

            “Wish granted,” she said cheerily, and kissed me full on the lips.

            “Eeuurgh!”

……

            O, bliss, bliss, bliss. Evelyn switched on the tv before she left the next morning. The reception was a little fuzzy, and I only got to watch one affiliate channel since I couldn’t work a remote. Still, it was… heavenly. I had never been much of a tv-watcher; I was too busy to waste my time on that sort of thing. Whenever I had been watching tv in the past, even if the show was something I was interested in, I always had that nagging voice in the back of my head telling me I shouldn’t just be sitting around, that I should be working, or preparing for tomorrow’s work. Now, however, it was like a long, lost friend come back to me. Funny how much the little things matter when you have nothing at all. For the first time since my kidnapping, now that I had something other than my situation to focus on, I was able to zone out and almost relax. I let mind-numbing waves of morning news shows, court tv, talk shows, soap operas, and sitcoms wash over me.

            Normally, I could not abide soap operas, but within just a few days, I was sucked into the stories. I could hardly wait to see what happened next. In a matter of weeks, I could have recited all the characters (living, dead, and amnesia-ridden), as well as all the insipid plot lines. Part of me was offended by the lazy banality of it all, but I was not about to complain. And the talk shows; I could practically feel my IQ leaking out of my ears as I watched it, but it was a thousand, a billion times better than staring at nothing. I had to take what I could get.

            Meanwhile, things got, well, weirder with Evelyn. She wasn’t being particularly cruel–no more than usual, anyway. She was, however, getting more affectionate. I didn’t even know why. Maybe at heart she was shy (yeah, right) and it took her a long time to get comfortable around me. Whatever the reason, it really creeped me out. She started calling me ‘slave’ a lot, and sometimes even called me her ‘puppet.’ That was freaky.

            She also started to kiss me a lot more often. I hated it. You can imagine how uncomfortable that could be. I was torn between wanting to spit in her face when she kissed me on the cheek, or to trying to act like it was nothing. Obviously, I preferred the spitting option, but I didn’t want to piss her off, either. I did that once, and she crammed her dirty panties in my mouth for at least six hours, saying that I might prefer their taste if I didn’t like the taste of her lips. I mean, for god sakes, what did she expect from me? To respond to her advances like some lovesick paramour? I usually ended up just silently enduring it with a wince.

……

            It was amazing how having something like the tv to distract me made the time fly. Sort of. Evenings and weekends were still incredibly boring, and it did get tiring just laying there watching tv for seven or eight hours a day. Another month passed, one day flowing into another. I had pretty much given up trying to talk my way out of my situation. Evelyn showed no signs of getting tired of having me around. Hell, some marriages didn’t last for as long as she had already had me in that stuffy, little attic room. It’s difficult to describe how small my world had gotten. I deeply missed everyday things like, well, walking, for one, or taking a shower, or having a job to do. I also missed simply being able to be outside, with trees and things. It was almost like the outside world had slowly disappeared, ceased to exist. It was just me, Evelyn, and the constant discipline of the braces–the braces that were becoming more and more a part of me. Evelyn, as crazy and cruel as she was, was my only human contact. I was staring to need that contact.

            Evelyn had just spent a Saturday morning planting bulbs in her gardens. It made her grubby and happy. The weather was starting to turn and Autumn was well on its way, though I couldn’t see it or feel it. She told me she had planted a whole bag of black tulips and a set of blue irises. I imagined it would be pretty next spring. Imagining was all I could do.

            She was downstairs fixing lunch (I still had no lunches during the week, but I got a light lunch on the weekends–she told me she didn’t want me getting fat on her, the hypocrite), when I heard the doorbell. At least I assumed it was the doorbell. I had never heard it before, since Evelyn never had any visitors that I was aware of. A moment later I heard Evelyn open the front door.

            I was frozen with shock. Was somebody there? The police, perhaps? A neighbor? Hell, even her sister Alice? Moments slipped by. Call for help, you idiot, what are you waiting for? Heedless of the consequences, I started screaming.

            “Help! Get help! Aaaahhhh! Oh, god help me, I’ve been kidnapped! HEEEEEEELP!” I shrieked, my voice cracking.

            My cries dissolved into loud screams as the agonizing shocks coursed through me, locking my jaw shut and paralyzing my tongue. It hurt terribly, but the pain only made me louder. Finally, it became too much to bear and I fell silent. I gasped for air, barely conscious, tears flowing down my cheeks, as the last of the electricity zapped me. It still hurt and tingled, long after the shocks stopped. I wondered if the person had heard me. I wondered if they had gone for help. Footsteps were coming up the stairs.

            “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Evelyn bellowed, bursting into the room. “What’s gotten into you?”

            I couldn’t answer her. Evelyn was as angry as I had ever seen her. Oh shit, oh shit, I’ve done it now, this is it, I’m dead. She’s gonna kill me.

            “I asked you a question,” she said, approaching the bed. She squeezed my cheeks painfully with one hand. I opened my mouth and sunk my teeth in in to the web of skin between her thumb and index finger. I hadn’t planned on it, and I didn’t do it out of anger, really. It was just an instinctive reaction, like the snapping of a frightened, injured dog. She ripped her hand out of mouth, slapped me, and seemed about to do something worse. Stopping herself, she leaned against the wall with her eyes shut and nursed her hand. “It was just the delivery man. He had already left, you know,” she said, after a minute, “by the time you started hollering. He didn’t hear you. He didn’t even look back.”

            My heart sank. No help was on its way, and now I was stuck alone with an angry Evelyn. Just my luck. I tried not to let her see how frightened I really was. She could do anything to me. The other times I had made her mad, she had punished the offending part of me by beating it with that baton. I had a terrible vision of her smashing my mouth with that thing.

            “You still have too much control,” she said decisively, “but don’t worry. I can fix that.”

            “W-wha…?”

            “No food for you today. And you’ve lost your tv privilege.” Evelyn went to the tv and unplugged it.

            “No! Nooo!” I cried hoarsely, finding my voice. Her removal of the tv was even worse than the ominous threat of what she might do to me. “I’m sorry. Please. I won’t do it again. Don’t take my tv.”

            Evelyn sneered at me with utter contempt. “Look at you. When you were a power-hungry bitch, you at least commanded some respect. Now you’re just pathetic.”

            “Please…”

            Her sneer curled into a cruel smile. “It’s okay. That’s just the way I want you.”

Chapter 13

            Evelyn didn’t talk to me the rest of the weekend. That didn’t help me to be any less nervous. It turned out I had given myself a mild electrical burn on the side of my jaw from all the shocks, so she had to move the electrode pads. I kept trying to apologize for what I did, not that it did any good. I wasn’t as sycophantic as I sounded, but I was scared and I was trying to do some damage control. My gambit had failed and now I had to face the consequences. I hoped that if she at least believed I was sorry enough, she might not punish me as bad as she would otherwise. Monday morning, before leaving for work, she told me that it would happen that evening. I got to look forward to it all day, and I didn’t even have a tv to help pass the time.

……

            “This is drugged,” Evelyn said, holding out a cup of apple juice for me. “I want you to drink it.”

            “No way! I’m not doing that!”

            “I would really prefer it if you did. I would have slipped it in some food, but I want your stomach empty for this. It’ll have to be voluntary. You don’t need to be out for this,” she told me, “but it would be a lot more pleasant for both of us. Especially for you. Trust me.”

            The cup of apple juice looked like hemlock to me. “Why? What are you going to do me?”

            “I’m not going to tell you.”

            “Is it going to hurt?” I asked, full of dread.

            “It’s not going to be easy, I’m sure of that,” she replied. “But it won’t all be bad. As part of it, I just finished devising a little something that you may find quite pleasurable. So this isn’t entirely all punishment. A mixed blessing, as it were.”

            I eventually drank the damned, drugged juice. I was loathe to voluntarily knock myself out to let her have her way with me, but the fear of real pain and discomfort outweighed the fear of the unknown. Either way, she would end up getting her way. I cried while waiting for the stuff to take effect. Evelyn sat and patted the top of my head, speaking softly to me until I faded away.

……

            My head hurt. My throat was sore. And I couldn’t breathe. That realization was like being splashed with a bucket of ice water. My eyes shot open and I struggled and gasped for air, my mouth gaping like a fish’s. My mouth was empty and unobstructed, but there was something blocking and filling up the back of my throat, back deep behind my tongue. I realized that I was still breathing, after all; my chest was rising and falling, I just couldn’t breathe through my mouth. Or swallow.

            There were things in my nose, too. Plugs? No, not plugs–they were tubes. I could hear the sound of air passing through them as I inhaled. I couldn’t feel the passage of air or smell anything, though, which is what made me think I couldn’t breathe. It was disorienting. I could still exhale through the thing in my throat, though, if I tried. The thing in there must have been stifling my vocal cords or something, because I couldn’t make any sound at all. All that came out was a thin whistle of air that bubbled up through the pool of saliva that had collected in the back of my mouth. Evelyn was there, so I fixed her with wide eyes. “Whug? Guckgg.”

            “There, there, don’t panic,” she said. “You’re okay. Everything’s fine. Probably feels pretty weird, but you’re fine.”

            “Wha…?”

            “I put a glottal stent in your throat,” she explained. “It’s normally used for certain medical procedures. This one is slightly modified. It has a one-way valve in it that will allow you to exhale, but not inhale or swallow. Don’t worry, it’s in there quite securely. It’s inflated. You won’t swallow it by accident, and you certainly won’t be spitting it out. The tube in your left nostril bypasses the block and goes to your lungs. It’s plenty wide, so you should have no trouble breathing, even if you get a runny nose.” She smiled.

            What was the point of that? I couldn’t swallow? Why? It would certainly keep me quiet, that was for sure. There’d be no more shouting for help for me. I made gross, wet sounds as I tried to wrestle with the thing in my throat. I found I could still speak, in a gurgling, nearly inaudible sort of way. It was only as loud as the quietest whisper. If I concentrated, I could form words around what air could pass through the valve. I finally asked, “How will I eat?” Or, I tried to. What actually came out was, ‘Hagh whill hi heatgh?’

            “Aha!” she said, apparently having little trouble understanding me. “That’s what your right nostril is for. The naso-gastric tube goes to your stomach. I’ll show you how that works later.”

            “Buh…” I could get my mind around the sheer bizarreness of what she’d done to me. The aftereffects of the drug weren’t helping any. I took stock of the rest of my body, finding nothing else seemed changed. Although, I could feel something on my head. There was something snug all around my head and neck. A hood? I could feel the oval-shaped seam that framed my face. “Whas…?”

            “Oh that. It’s just a simple open-faced, spandex hood. It matches your bodysuit, so you’re looking quite fashionable, puppet.” She laughed.

            Yeah, whatever, psycho bitch. I was still trying to get used to the sensation that was I constantly choking. It was disquieting, to say the least. Worse, I had a lot of saliva building up in the back of my mouth. It felt like a lot, anyway. I couldn’t swallow, so where the hell was it supposed to go? I watched her plugging wires into a device that looked similar to the one she had set up to shock me. Oh, crap! More wires! What now?

            “Would you believe I’ve become something of an amateur expert with electronics? Got this setup online. The toys people make. The world is full of perverts.” She shook her head. “Don’t look at me like that. No need to fret. This should be a good a thing. This is the reward part. Here, let me get it set up.”

            As if I could do anything to prevent her. She unzipped the crotch of my bodysuit, exposing my pussy. It was both worrying and unsettling having her focus her attention there. Since I had been kidnapped, it had pretty much become a numb, not-there part of my body, except for the occasional rashes early on. I had never been much for masturbation, even when I was able to. Probably some innate, childhood guilt kept me from enjoying it. Now she was rubbing me a little as if I should be enjoying it, but I wasn’t. I gurgled at her in protest.

            She showed me a ‘toy’ that had several wires hanging from it. It was shaped like a curved panty shield and was made of clear plastic. It had two metal strips lengthwise on the interior surface. Near the top, between the strips, was a shiny, textured metal nub. Near the bottom was a small, banana-shaped dildo, also made of metal. I watched in trepidation as she smeared clear lube on the whole device.

            “No, no, don’t,” I breathed as she parted my lips and slid it into my body. It was cold, slimy, and unpleasant. She settled the panty shield part firmly against my pussy so that the metal strips covered the length of my lips. The little nubbin part pressed into the hood of my clit. Some latex straps around my thighs held the whole thing in place. Finally, she adjusted the braces so that I was in the reclined, sitting position instead of flat on my back. What the hell? I wondered. I already had something that felt as big as a shoe crammed in my throat and tubes in my nose. Why couldn’t she just leave me alone?

            Evelyn kept smiling mysteriously to herself while hooking the wires up. It looked complicated. “Don’t be scared,” she said again, “this won’t hurt.”

            Sure it won’t, I thought, it’s only electricity in my puss! Sitting up made it harder to deal with the saliva in my mouth. I couldn’t open my mouth to talk. I tried to make sounds of distress, but all I managed to do was make some it bubble out of my mouth and spatter on my chin. Gross!

            Evelyn looked up at me and grinned. “Having problems? I expected you would. See, since you seem to love spitting at me so much, I decided I might as well encourage it. After all, we all need our little pleasures–even you. So your little pleasure will be drooling. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

            “Gup?” I stared at her like she was crazy. Well, she was, but she didn’t always sound it like she did just then.

            “The seam of this hood,” she said, tracing a finger along the edge of the hood that framed my face, “is lined with sensors. When they get wet enough, you get a reward. Now how do you suppose we can get them wet? Venture a guess? That’s right! You need to drool. You can give yourself pleasure whenever you want, but to do so, you have to drool on yourself. So do it, slave. Drool for me.”

            I was shocked and mortified. I shook my chest a little, which substituted for shaking my head, which I hadn’t been able to do for months. The mouthful of saliva had suddenly taken on very unpleasant ramifications. I wanted to swallow it so bad, but I couldn’t.

            “Go on. You have to do it sometime, so get it over with. Drool!”

            I sobbed, full of hate, fear, and shame. The slimy mouthful slipped over my quivering, bottom lip. It was watery and flowed down over my chin and spattered onto the upper chest brace in sticky streams. It was probably the most humiliating thing I had ever had to do in my life. I didn’t have long to dwell on the shame, though, because Evelyn turned on the little machine, activating the sensors.

            “Huh? Ggk!” I burbled stupidly, as my crotch was stimulated into life. Instead of high intensity, painful shocks like I was used to, these shocks tingled, tickled, and pulsed across my pussy lips. It almost felt like someone was licking me down there, only with far more intensity than any tongue could ever achieve. It was like nothing I’d ever felt, and my dormant sexual urges immediately came roaring back to life.

            The dildo part vibrated and hummed with its own current, triggering me to bear down on it, convulsing. My poor clit was excited into wakefulness by the vibrating, electrified nub. It prickled teasingly at my g-spot, nudging against it, making me bear down. Even the plug in my ass joined in; instead of cruelly blasting me, it seemed to pulse inside me, forcing my muscles to rhythmically contract around it. It was like an electric symphony down there, playing my pussy like an instrument. I didn’t want to enjoy it, especially not under Evelyn’s eager eyes, but I wasn’t given a choice. My pleasure-deprived body and sensation-starved mind conspired to make me like it. Soon I was straining within the braces and hissing through clenched teeth. “Thiss s-suucks!”

            “Liar. Don’t be ashamed. You deserve a little happiness, right? After all I’ve done to you? It’s okay. Be greedy for it. I’ll let you.”

            “Nooo. Zzzsst! Gogck. Oh, goooodd!” I had an small orgasm. And soon after that, I had another. My body wanted it so much, and apparently was responding crazily well to the tingling electric stimulation. Then, after about ten minutes of building pressure, I had a huge one. Not a little, ‘oh, that was nice, dear’ orgasm, but a full-body, drencher type orgasm. And then it just kept going. The dumb machine didn’t care if I already had enough, didn’t care that I didn’t want one in the first place. It just kept stimulating me. Saliva dribbled off my chin, but I couldn’t care. After several more orgasms and god knows how long, it went dead. My pussy continued to twitch under the plastic shield. I was still aroused. I gasped for air I couldn’t feel through the nose tube. I was all limp and tingly all over.

            After letting me rest a little in silence, Evelyn finally spoke. “See? See how nice things can be when you do as you’re told?”

            “I didn’t… I didn’t want that.”

            “Oh I think you did,” she said, then gave a little shrug, “but even if you didn’t, it doesn’t matter. You feel what I want you to feel. If I want you to come... you come. You’re all mine, puppet.”

            I cried. I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t my choice, but I felt ashamed for coming in front of Evelyn, anyway. Powerless. The feel of sticky wetness on my chin and neck made me want to gag, which made me salivate even more. It was building up in my mouth again. I looked helplessly to Evelyn.

            “Here, I’ll turn this thing off so you can get some rest. I won’t leave it on all the time, you would just get numb to it after a while, I think. That drug has probably upset your stomach a little, so I’ll wait a while before I bring your supper up. Until then, feel free to drool to your heart’s content.”

            I did. I had to. I hated it, but I couldn’t stop it. I never realized how much saliva a mouth produces, unnoticed and swallowed, until there was nowhere for it to go. I held it in for as long as I could, then I would have to let it out. It was so revolting and I felt like an idiot doing it. A literal, drooling idiot.

            Why did she want me to do this? This went way, way beyond anything I deserved, even if all the bad stuff she said about me was true. This was not me, I was not supposed to be like this! I was an attractive young woman on the fast track to great things! I am not a drooling invalid! I am not a cripple! I shouted to myself. I wasn’t. Yet looks can be deceiving, and if anyone had taken a look at me right then, aside from the corset and the fetishy ballet boots, all they would have seen was some poor paraplegic woman whose body was completely beyond her control. They would assume it was the result of some disease or accident, not that it had been done to me on purpose. I probably would have felt the same way even if it was caused by a car wreck or something; even then, I would still have felt like my old self trapped in a ruined body. I cried and cried.

            Evelyn allowed me a couple of hours alone to get used to it. After I got over the initial shock and despair, I had to start teaching myself how to talk a little better. The words formed okay, but I couldn’t get any louder than breathy whispers. I could barely even hear what I said with my own ears. Worse, the words were always distorted by the amount of saliva in my mouth or on my lips. Half the time it sounded like I was gargling. If exhaled hard through the valve in the stent, it made an inhuman, hissing sound come from the back of my throat: hssss! It was the kind of sound that came out of a big snake or a really ticked-off cat. I could see where this would get old, and fast.

            I cursed myself. Why had I gone and shouted for help? Now because of that stupid attempt I was practically mute and drooling on myself. She had probably been planning on doing this to me for a long time, but who knows how long she might have waited before she went and actually did it if I hadn’t goaded her into it. I might have been rescued before she had decided to go and do it.

            No, you aren’t going to be rescued, a part of me said. As long as you keep hoping for rescue, you’re going to be disappointed.

            No, no, I couldn’t believe that. I could not accept that this was my life. I cried some more.

            When Evelyn returned, she was already dressed for bed. It was pretty late. “You look awful. Have you been crying this whole time?”

            I glared at her miserably. My chin was glistening with spit.

            “Are you hungry?” she asked.

            “Hsss!”

            Her brows arched in surprise. “My. Well, that’s interesting. You need eat, regardless. Need to keep your strength up.” She wheeled in a shiny, metal IV stand which looked frightening. From the bag hooks hung a pair of bags full of a whitish liquid that had joined tubes hanging down. “Don’t be scared by this,” she said. “You worry too much. It’s just dinner.”

            “Huh?”

            “Here.” She maneuvered it to the head of the bed. I wriggled and hissed as she connected the dangling tube to my right nostril with a click. “Are you hissing at me? What an odd sound. Kind of cute, really. Anyway, this is how you’ll have to eat from now, or at least as long as the stent is in place. I turn this valve, here, and your dinner drips down all the way into your tummy. Pretty convenient, hmm? It’s a standard liquid diet. It has all you’ll need to stay healthy.”

            “I don’t get to eat anymore?” I asked. There was a strange sensation of one side of my nose getting cooler deep inside as the fluid passed through the tube.

            “You don’t get to drink, either. That will work the same as this. I’ll hook some water bags up for you to… absorb.” She chuckled. “Kind of makes you sound like a plant. That’s okay, I like plants.”

            I sobbed, unintentionally making a little spray of spit fly. “You are so cruel.”

            “I do what I have to, Kathy,” she said, removing the support pillows and clicking my hip braces so that I fell flat on my back. She had a hand towel that she used to wipe my lips and chin dry, then tucked it around my neck and head. She went and turned off the light. I expected her to leave, but instead she came back to the bed. “Scoot over. You’re such a bed hog.”

            “No, please, not tonight. Leave me alone, just for tonight,” I begged.

            She arranged herself in bed beside me. “You’re upset, frightened, and uncomfortable. Think about it. Do you really want to be by yourself, alone in the dark, all night long? I’ll be right here, in case something comes up.”

            When I thought about it that way, part of me did think that having her there would be preferable to being alone, but I would never have admitted it to her. As long as she didn’t touch me. But there she went, snuggling herself up close.

            “More and more each day, you’re becoming more the way I want you,” she said. “I put some sleeping pills in your dinner. I thought you might have a hard time getting to sleep. Night-night.”

            I might be becoming more what she wanted, but each day was taking me farther away from myself. She may have given me sleeping pills, but I was still awake by the time she was sound asleep and snoring softly next to me. I heard that people whose consciences were bothering them didn’t sleep well. That didn’t apply to her it seemed. That, or she had no conscience. Lying on my back made the saliva pool up in the back of my mouth. Exhaling through the valve made mouth fill with bubbles. Gross. I was forced to let spit trickle out of the corners of my lips, letting it run down my cheeks and puddle on the towel just below my ears. Gross, gross, gross. The pills finally started to kick in and I thankfully succumbed to sleep.

Chapter 14

            It took a long while for me to get used to having that junk in my throat and nose. I continued to feel sore and irritated, as if I had a bad cold, for at least a week. My lips quickly became painfully chapped until they adjusted to being wet all the time. At least Evelyn rubbed ointment on them so they wouldn’t get all cracked and blistery. The drooling itself, as disgusting and humiliating as it was, took a distressingly short time to get used to, physically speaking. Within days I was automatically spitting down my chin whenever I had too much in my mouth (which was better than letting it pool up until I had to let it go in a veritable flood). That’s not to suggest that I wasn’t constantly aware that I was drooling like a vegetable, just that my body was getting used to it long before I was. I couldn’t even spit at Evelyn anymore–only on myself. My drooling, by the way, didn’t deter Evelyn one bit from kissing me. She would just have to dab her lips dry afterwards.

            Then there we the damn orgasms. I was really torn about them. Sure, it was great to have some kind of physical pleasure after all the discomfort I had been through, but at the same time I didn’t want to be enjoying myself there. I wanted to be a suffering martyr and stubbornly resist Evelyn’s machinations. That was hard to do when part of it felt so hellaciously good. She had tinkered with the settings until she got it the way she wanted. It didn’t come on constantly, just randomly, and usually only when I had been dribbling spit like crazy and really soaked the hood’s receptor thing. As a result, sometimes it happened spontaneously and kept going as long as ‘fueled’ it with saliva, and other times I had to really work at it to get it going.

            The sad thing was that they were some of the most intense orgasms I had ever had. They worked on me so deep. Far better than when I had been with any partner, or myself, and sure as hell better than any during my brief marriage. I had never been much of a masturbator, and I had very little experience with sex toys. I had always had trouble reaching orgasm. That wasn’t the case with this thing. It worked on me in all the right ways. The buzzing and pulsing and tingly zapping made me feel things completely new, and it was really, really good. When I was feeling depressed or pissed off, I had the means (disgusting as they were) to make all of that go away for a little while. A person could become addicted to that sort of thing, which was a whole new problem. I took Psychology 101 in college and I knew about positive reinforcement, so Evelyn surely did, too. She was a shrink, after all.

……

            A few boring, wet-chinned, orgasm-filled weeks passed. It was back to the way it was before I got the tv; days full of staring at the walls, only now I did it while blowing spit bubbles. That was my new pass-time. Bubble, bubble, pop, pop, pop. Come, and come again. Sigh. I sure did miss eating. I would have done anything for a juicy, well-prepared steak and some cheesecake for dessert. Hell, I would even have been happy to be handfed by Evelyn by that point. I dreamed of all the different foods I couldn’t eat anymore. However, I hadn’t been hungry in a month. Not really. I had a constant nutrient drip-feed which didn’t make me feel full, but kept me from feeling empty. It kept me from getting thirsty, too, which was really weird considering how much fluid I lost by drooling. I wondered if she put that toxin stuff in the bags to weaken me, but she still denied it. That was always in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t even stage a hunger strike anymore. Anyway, Halloween came, which put Evelyn in an excited tizzy.

            She had come up to show me some of the Halloween decorations she got at the craft store. She even got a bunch of pumpkins, hay bales, and actual bundles of cornstalks at the nursery. Apparently, she loved holidays on which she could decorate her yard. Learn something new every day. I had no idea she was one those people. I groaned at the idea of being held captive by a craft-happy person. It was like being Martha Stewart’s sex slave, or something. She was going to make me insane.

            “I think it’s going to be precious,” she said, referring to her plans for a pumpkin-and-gourd arrangement. She bent to wipe my chin with a hand towel.

            I squinted at her. I started to gurgle out a question, then had to dribble down my chin to clear my mouth, which she wiped again. I had gotten so used to doing that it hardly even bugged me anymore unless I thought about it. “Have you lost weight?” I asked. I didn’t ask to flatter her. It was just out of curiosity. I had noticed she had been wearing a lot of new outfits lately.

            I winced as she practically squealed like a schoolgirl. “You noticed!” she exclaimed. “I was wondering if you would. I’ve been going to the gym after work. That’s why I’ve been coming home a little later.”

            “You’ve been coming home later?” I had no idea. I didn’t have a clock, and I no longer had stomach pangs by which I could measure time.

            “Yes, I thought I should get in better shape. Not that I was upset with how I looked, mind you. I’ve always been big and I don’t mind it. I thought, however, that since I have you to take care of, being in better condition couldn’t hurt.”

            “I guess.” Inside I was braiding against the thought of her working out her body while I laid in bed, debilitating.

            “I’ve been focusing on weight training. It’s kind of exhilarating, really. Plus, I have a lot more energy now,” she said.

            “I don’t,” I said sullenly.

            “Aww, but you’re not supposed to! You’re just supposed to relax, puppet,” she said with a giggle and tickled me below the armpits.

            I hated it when she did that. I squirmed, scowled, and hissed loudly at her. “Hsssss!” That inhuman, valve-hiss had become a universal form of expression for me, whether I was pissed, upset, or even aroused. It was simply the loudest noise I could make. It always got her attention.

            “Oh, I love it when you do that!” she said, but at least she stopped tickling me. She gathered her decorating supplies. “Well, I had better get started on these. Halloween falls on a Monday so I need to get finished this weekend. I usually keep the autumn decorations up until Thanksgiving. Uncarved pumpkins last a long time.”

            “May I have the tv back?” I asked her while she was still close enough to hear my tiny whisper. I asked purely out of habit. I had been asking her that every day for weeks.

            “Oh,” she said distractedly, “I guess so. It is a holiday coming up and all.”

            “Really? You mean it? You’re not teasing?” I asked hopefully. Saliva trickled out of the corners of my mouth. She was not beyond the occasional cruel tease.

            “Yes. I’ll set it back up when I take a break from outside.”

            “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! Hssss!” I was so excited and drooled so much that it triggered the pussy zapper. “Ungck!”

            “Don’t mention it, slave.” Evelyn smirked.

……

            It was wonderful having a tv to zombify myself in front of again. Indescribably wonderful. Only now I wasn’t just a standard couch potato, but a drooling couch potato. Yuck. She let me have it on all weekend, since she was busy downstairs or outside most of the time. Fine by me.

            Halloween arrived, but it was just another uneventful day for me. I was surprised and disturbed, come evening, that Evelyn allowed trick-or-treaters to come up to the door. She normally hadn’t allowed anyone beyond the front gate; the delivery man I had shouted to had been an anomaly. There I was, just a couple floors away from other people coming and going, and I couldn’t do anything about it. My hissing wasn’t loud enough to be heard on the other side of the attic room door, much less by the trick-or-treaters and their parents. I had to laugh. Here these kids were, dressing up and spooking each other out about monsters, not knowing that there was a real monster in their midst in the form of Evelyn. Giving them candy. She was a doctor, though. Maybe she was the mad scientist and I was the monster. I certainly would have terrified any one of those kids if they had seen me.

            Evelyn topped off the evening by adding some brandy to my water bag until I was pleasantly drunk. I asked her why she had not been worried that I might do something with strangers coming to the door.

            “Why should I be worried? What could you do?”

            That depressed me so much. I had been dismissed. Written off. A non-entity.

Chapter 15

            November came, and along with it, the worst Thanksgiving ever. Most of month passed uneventfully. Evelyn read Watership Down to me in the evenings. I would have been bored through a lot of it if my imagination had not been getting such a vigorous workout over the past months. At least it had a happy ending for the bunnies. She hooked a dvd player to the tv so that she could rent some movies for us to watch together. It was almost funny watching her hook the thing up; she could wire me with electric devices, but she couldn’t figure out how to get a simple dvd player to work. I sagely restrained the urge to laugh at her confusion. At least the movies provided a pleasant distraction, even if Evelyn did cuddle up next to me to view them.

            I would have been in pure agony by the time Thanksgiving arrived if I had been able to smell. The mere thought of all the food Evelyn was cooking was torture enough. She came up late Thanksgiving morning to change my nutrient bag and switch out the enema machine’s waste containers. “I’ll be really busy in the kitchen today, so I won’t have much time to spend with you.”

            I was pouting. “Bet it’ll taste good.”

            “Aw, I truly do wish I could let you have some Thanksgiving dinner. No, really, I do. I’m sentimental that way. But it would just be too much of a chore to take out that stent just for one dinner,” she said.

            “Then… take it out for good?”

            She chuckled. “No. Even if I wanted to, I’ll be far too busy with cooking and cleaning, especially with guests here.”
            “Guests?”

            “Yes.” She smiled. “I’m cooking for Alice and Sarah.”

            “Hss! They’re coming here?”

            “Well, it would be easier for Alice to stay at their apartment, what with her wheelchair, and all. But it’s tradition. I always was the best cook among us.”

            “Here?”

            “What’s wrong?” she asked.

            I figured she knew perfectly well what was wrong. I had a disturbing thought. “Are you… going to show her… me?”

            Evelyn laughed. “Good heavens, no. I already told you, Alice would never condone what I’ve done. I doubt she would turn me in, knowing what an evil person you were and, of course, blood is thicker than water. Still, it would just upset her. I don’t want to do that.”

            “I was not evil,” I mumbled.

            “You were, and you deserve everything that’s happening to you. Don’t look at me like that. You do. This is the only way you can make things right.” She cut me off before I could say anything else. “I don’t want to hear it. Seeing as it’s what the holiday is about, perhaps you should give some thought as to what you’re thankful for.”

            Thankful? “F-fuck you, Evelyn.” Months ago those words would have come out easily. Now they were hesitant, tinged with fear, and almost didn’t come out in the first place.

            “Hmm. Nope, that’s not what I want to hear. I want you to say you deserve this.”

            “Nooo.”

            “Say it!”

            I winced and bared my teeth at her. I hated it, but I said it, god help me. “I deserve this.” I had been so beaten down, intimidated, and terrorized that I couldn’t even resist her anymore.

            “All of it?”

            “All of it.” I felt like I wanted to puke. Not that it could have gone anywhere but all over my chest if I did.

            “Kathy, I don’t want us to fight today. It’s a holiday and I’m already stressed out as it is. Here, I’ll let you watch tv until my sister comes over.” She reached for the button, then hesitated. “Hmm? What do we say?”

            “Thank you,” I said grudgingly.

            “See? You do have things to be thankful for.”

……

            It was a special kind of hell hearing everybody downstairs enjoying themselves. Eating good food. Talking. Laughing. I wondered when the last time I laughed was? I mean a real laugh, not a bitter, acerbic laugh. Quite a while. I could hear them talking, but I couldn’t make out anything that was said. I could make out Alice’s voice, even though I hadn’t heard it in years. I couldn’t stand her when I worked with her, and I couldn’t stand her now. I may have been the cause of her broken back, and I might have to feel sorry for it, but that didn’t mean I had to like her. If Alice only knew what kind of twisted person her sister was. I glared at the ceiling, spit dripping off the bottom of my chin, wishing they’d all choke on a fucking turkey bone.

……

            Evelyn bore a strange expression when she came up after everyone had gone. She looked happy–almost triumphant–but at the same time, she looked a little worried. She studied me with concern. “You doing okay, honey?”

            What was with the sudden sympathy? That was almost as alarming as if she had burst in yelling at me. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

            “Well, you see, I had the television on downstairs while I was clearing some of the dishes,” she came and sat on the edge of the bed. Taking the towel, she wiped an evening’s worth of saliva off my face and turned off the pussy machine. The machine had gone on ‘simmer’ mode and I had spent at least an hour getting stimulated lightly, but not enough to push me over into orgasm.

            “Yeah, so?”

            “So I saw something interesting on the news. It’s good, but… I’m not sure how you’ll take it.”

            Why did she keep looking at me like that? “What?”

            “There was a report on the news that the police found the man who had been abducting those women. You know, the one who was suspected in your disappearance.”

            Instant butterflies in my belly. “And?”

            “And he died in a shootout. They’ll never know if he was the one responsible for your kidnapping and supposed murder. They’ll assume the location of your body died with him.”

            It was too awful to accept. “Why are you saying this to me? Hsss! You’re lying! Why are you being so mean? What’d I do?” My voice had taken on a the aspect of a distraught, little girl.

            Evelyn shook her head. She considered the tv and then turned it on with the remote. The late evening news would be starting in a minute. I kept looking back and forth between Evelyn and the tv during the commercials. Finally the news came on. One of the top stories featured ariel footage of police surrounding a house. Leads on the local rapist/murderer had brought them there and he had barricaded himself inside with a gun. Ultimately, he had been ‘incapacitated’ (here they showed a shrouded body on a stretcher). An interview with an officer at the scene claimed, while it was still too early in the investigation to be sure, certain evidence in the house linked him to some of the missing women. A graphic came up showing the faces of five missing local women, all assumed to be have been the man’s victims. My picture was on the top right.

            I watched all of it in total silence. Everybody thought I was dead. There I was, on tv, in a photo taken of me for the office newsletter sometime last year. My fifteen seconds of fame, and it was as a missing murder victim. Everybody thought I was dead. Everybody. My last, slim hope of rescue that I had been kindling all this time had been squashed in the space of one news report.

            Evelyn turned off the tv, but I still stared at the blank screen. She stroked my forearm, between the braces. “It’ll be okay. Poor thing.”

            I don’t want your sympathy I don’t want your fucking sympathy! I howled in my head, but I couldn’t express a thing. I started to cry.

            “I know it’s a lot to absorb. You’ll be alright, you’ll see,” she said.

            “I won’t–” Just then the electric stimulator activated on its own. It enraged me. “God fucking shit!”

            Evelyn hastily reached over and turned the thing off. At least she had some sense of decency.

             I breathed heavily, getting control of my anger. “I won’t be alright. Nothing’ll be alright. Not ever.”

            “Yes it will. You’ll see. You’re strong.”

            I glared at her, radiating spite.

            “But don’t you see, Kathy? This just proves it. You were meant to be here with me. This is where you’re supposed to be. You can’t fight it. It’s fate.”

            “No.” Fuck fate!

            “You said it yourself: you deserve this,” she said, squeezing my shoulder. “But enough of that. I’ll put some sleeping pills in your water tonight. Alright?”

            “Whatever.” Dump the whole bottle in, while you’re at it.

            “I don’t want to sound smug or anything, but–”

            “Then don’t.”

            “But I know what I’m thankful for this holiday,” she said.

            See? My worst Thanksgiving ever.

Chapter 16

            I withdrew deep into myself for a couple of weeks. I was struggling with denial and depression. Mostly, I didn’t feel anything. All the pussy thing did was piss me off, so Evelyn shut it off for the time being. I wasn’t sure if Evelyn was medicating me to shield me from the worst of it, or not. Probably. I couldn’t believe that I was doomed to spend the rest of my life as Evelyn’s plaything. That was just too horrible to think about. I sure as hell didn’t believe in fate. But… what if? I don’t want to talk about anymore about those weeks. I don’t want to remember that.

            After a lot of self-pitying crying jags and brooding silences, I kind of went back to normal around mid-December. I had somehow managed to rekindle the fires of hope. I would not, could not, spend the rest of my life with Evelyn; the universe and any kind of benevolent god wouldn’t allow such a thing, therefore, I would be rescued. Unless, of course, this was where I was supposed to be. I couldn’t think thoughts like that, though. Same as giving up. I just had to keep strong, be patient, and wait for a chance. I worried, however… if I spent too long under Evelyn’s thumb, would I even be able to grab the chance if it came along?

……

            December, of course, meant Christmas, and that meant more excuses for Evelyn to decorate. Wreaths, a tree, ornaments, red velvet bows–the works. Her holiday cheer was almost sickening. I couldn’t believe she did this every year, went and set up a whole Christmas tree for just herself and a cat. It was kind of sad. I can’t imagine how lonely her life must have been before I came along. Of course, I always spent Christmas alone, too, but the extent of my celebration was limited, maybe, to a little wreath outside my apartment door and getting tipsy on eggnog at the office party. God, had my life really been so dull?

            Evelyn came in a few days before Christmas with a cat-that-ate-the-canary look. “I have a surprise for yoouu,” she said in a sing-song voice and disconnected my water tube.

            “Let me guess. You made a gingerbread house.” It wouldn’t have surprised me.

            “Better! I’ve decided to let you have your present a little early. Isn’t that great?”

            “What is it?” I asked, completely disinterested. I concentrated on blowing a big spit bubble that popped and speckled my cheeks and chin.

            She arched an eyebrow. “Quite a talent you have there. Well, my dear, I tried to think of what you would like most for Christmas, and it occurred to me you might like a bath.”

            “A bath?” That got my attention. I would have sat up, but… you know.

            “Yes, a real bath, in a real bathtub. And without braces.”

            “You mean it?”

            “Yes.”

            “And I won’t be drugged for it?”

            “No.”

            “Oh, wow! Hsss! Oh, wow, when?” Had I ever been so excited over getting to take a stupid bath? I was so worked up about that, I almost forgot the second part. ‘Without braces.’ I’d be free and conscious? Maybe this was it. Maybe the chance had finally come. My chance for escape.

            “Right now, if you like. Or as soon as I get you unhooked from all this stuff.”

            “Yes please! Hsss! Oh, please, yes!”

            Evelyn went about disconnected me from the machines. She removed the wires and electrodes. She then took out the enema tube and the catheter (she changed the catheter on a regular basis, to avoid giving me UTI’s), but not the butt plug. I was practically vibrating with excitement. “Alright, let’s see. The tub is on the second floor, so I think I’ll undo the braces there. Besides, they’ll provide you some protection, in case I drop you.”

            Evelyn worked me over to the edge of the bed and then, getting her arms under my armpits, lifted me up. I had a strange sense of vertigo, since I hadn’t moved up in months. I was also startled by Evelyn’s strength. When she first kidnapped me, she had to struggle to get me up the stairs and into bed. Now she picked me up, braces and all, with very little effort. She might not have been sticking to any kind of diet, and her body might still be well-padded, but she sure hadn’t been skipping her trips to the gym.

            Securing her grip around my waist, she half-dragged me out of the little room. I had a feeling of agoraphobia as I left the attic. I had been within those all-too-familiar walls for so long that it was almost scary to leave it. I was pulled backwards down the stairs, the toes of my boots thumped on each step, jarring my legs and waking up sore and dormant muscles. I started giggling. I was just so excited! I might get a chance for escape, and even if it didn’t come this time, I would at least be out of the braces. Freedom! I would be able to move, to walk, to dance, to run through the sprinklers! Free!

            My boots were dragged over hardwood floor and onto carpet as I was taken into Evelyn’s bedroom. Her evil lair, if a room with a plush, mauve carpet could be called an evil lair. She had a big, oaken bed with a padded headboard and a puffy, taupe duvet cover. There were lots of throw pillows. On the walls was, naturally, floral print wallpaper. In a corner was one of those old-fashioned, oval shaped, standing mirrors. Cheval mirror, I think. Against one of the walls was a display cabinet covered with porcelain dolls of all kinds. A lot of dolls, with a lot of blank, white, porcelain faces. Okay, that was kind of freaky. Evelyn laid me on the carpet, just on front of the open door to the master bath. There was a Jacuzzi tub in there. It looked wonderful.

            “Now,” Evelyn advised as she knelt to undo the braces’ locks, “most of you is going to be very stiff and it may hurt to move at first.”

            “Okay.”

            “Try not to make any exaggerated movements too soon, or you might hurt yourself.”
            “Hss! Okay, okay! Just get these things off me.” I was so eager that saliva was running down my cheeks to her mauve carpet.

            Evelyn looked at me and shrugged. “Alright,” she said with an ‘I warned you’ tone of voice. She took off the head and neck braces first, and, oh my god, did it feel weird to get those things off. I had been wearing them so long I hardly even noticed their pressure anymore. She lifted my head to pull the spit-stained spandex hood off. It hurt!

            “Ow!” I hadn’t expected it to feel like that. All the muscles and tendons in my neck protested the movement by becoming one, unified cramp. In spite of that, I tried to lift my head under my own power, but… it wasn’t moving. Although I was concentrating with all my strength to lift my head, all I managed to do was thrust my chin up a little towards the ceiling. I could feel the tension in my neck, the same way it felt when I strained in the braces, but the muscles were no longer strong enough to raise my head off the ground. I could just barely turn it to the side, but only by a couple of inches. The muscles weren’t even strong enough to overcome their own stiffness. “E-Evelyn? I can’t… I can’t move!”

            Evelyn was stroking my throat. “Ooh, your neck looks so pretty and slender!”
            “Hsss! I can’t move!”

            “Hush. I said this would happen. Let me work some of the kinks out of your neck.” She did so, and it hurt, too. She worked my head back and forth for while–up and down, side to side– and I was in tears. When she bent it forward, I got to see my chest and belly for the first time. My chest was unchanged, but my belly was tiny. It seemed impossible for it to be that narrow. If I wrapped my hands around my corseted waist, my fingertips would have nearly touched. It was insane. I mean, where the hell did all my insides go? Down? I hadn’t seen a waist like that outside of drawings made of women in the Victorian period. And this one belonged to me.

            “Alright,” she finally said, “I think that’s enough for now. You need a lot more physical therapy, but it’s not going to happen in one night. A hot bath should probably help some.”

            “Yes,” I gasped, “bath.”

            She started unscrewing the complicated torso assembly to free up my chest and arms. The soreness was in my shoulders and upper back, but not really in my arms. The discomfort and the fear of being barely able to move was overshadowed by the sheer thrill of having the braces taken off my arms and hands. But not for long. First of all, they looked strange to me. Not only because I hadn’t seen my arms for so long, but because they were oddly slender. Not bone thin, like a some starving fashion model, nor fat, just soft-looking. I’d describe them as flabby, but I didn’t think I had gained much weight on what Evelyn fed me, and they certainly hadn’t gained any girth. They were just… soft. The muscles were so wasted that they weren’t even visible when I flexed them. My arms were okay for flexibility, since she worked on them every day, but they were so weak. I could lift them, very slowly, off the floor, but only about a foot, and the effort made them tremble and shake. They were really uncoordinated, too. I had trouble making any precise movements; I either overcompensated or under compensated. But at least they could move. My wrists and hands were another story. I could hardly bend my wrists, and my slender, bunched up fingers barely twitched in response to commands to make a fist. The joints in my hands popped and ached as Evelyn massaged my hands one at time. “Try not worry,” she told me. Easy for her to say.

            I brought my hands together for the first time in ages while she rubbed my shoulders. I hadn’t been able to touch anything in so long, I could hardly stand the sensation of touching my own skin. My nails were about an inch long. I guess they would have been longer, if not for Evelyn trimming them when she put the spandex suit on me. I was suddenly hungry for sensation, and I rubbed my hands over my body, the spandex, the corset, my own breasts (which hadn’t been touched my by anything except Evelyn’s hands), the carpet beneath me. I couldn’t quite get the mechanics right to reach up and touch my own face.

            I continued rubbing my hands together to get them to work while Evelyn started unbinding my waist and legs. More weird sensations as the cuffs and spreader bars were removed. With the unbuckling of left ankle, the last of the braces were removed. I was finally free. I tried to sit up. No good. I tried to lift my legs and they made it about a foot off the ground at the knee, but that was all. Raising an entire leg at the hip was hopeless. My thighs were just as strangely soft as my arms. I writhed in slow motion on the mauve carpet, crying from cramps and frustration. I could still move, painfully, but I wasn’t strong enough to do anything. I started to hyperventilated through my nose tube.

            “Alright, calm down. It’s okay.”

            “Hss! I can’t… I can’t…!” Spit was frothing at my lips, which was actually pretty normal for me.

            Evelyn took my wrists and pinned them at my chest to keep me from thrashing. “You’ll get your flexibility back and it won’t hurt to move. I promise. It will just take some time.”

            “You swear?”

            “Yes,” she affirmed.

            “W-what about my strength?”

            “No, not that. It’s gone,” she said.

            “No! No, no, no–”

            “Kathy! Would you try to relax? I told you this was going to happen,” she said, somewhat tersely.

            “But I can get it back, right? Like, like, when a person is normally in braces? Or a cast? I can work out and get it back, right?” I asked desperately. I saw her shake her head. “No, no, don’t tell me that! I can get it back!”

            “No, you can’t. If it was just a matter of being immobilized for a long time, then yes, you could get your strength back eventually. Your muscles, however, have been damaged by the myotoxin, and you’re about as strong now as you will ever be,” she said.

            “You said you were joking. You said you weren’t using that stuff on me! Hssss!” I cried, furious, spraying spittle. In truth, it was just what I suspected all along and it didn’t really surprise me, but I was still enraged upon hearing her finally admit it.

            “Yes, I lied about not poisoning you. You had to keep eating to stay healthy, and I was afraid you wouldn’t if I said what I was doing. I know I shouldn’t have mentioned it in the first place, but I did, and that’s that.” She spoke calmly, reasonably, and utterly without remorse. Was I even human in her eyes? “Now listen to me. You may get some strength back. Some. As your remaining muscles get exercised, they may compensate somewhat for the damaged ones, but not by a lot. Isn’t that better than nothing?”

            “Hsssss! You poisoned me,” I gurgled. I wanted to hit her, to strangle her, but all I could do was paw feebly at her knee. “Why?”

            “You’re here to relax, Kathy, remember?” she asked, that damn, cruel smile playing at her lips. “Now you don’t have to worry about strenuous activity. The more helpless you are, the more I get to take care of you. Not to mention it makes you easier to control. And best of all,” she said, leaning forward, “I like your weakness. It turns me on.”

            I snarled and hissed at her, snapping at the air. She smiled and moved down to my feet to undo the boots. She took her sweet time unlacing them and working them loose. When she finally worked them off and peeled the nylons off my feet, it felt amazing. Cool air and soft carpet on my feet. I had forgotten what that felt like. The only problem was they wouldn’t move. At all. They were still in extreme arch of the ballet boots. No matter what I did, I couldn’t even wiggle a toe, much less bend at the ankle. Evelyn lifted one of my legs and pressed on the sole of a foot, trying to move it manually. I felt the tugging at the tendon at the back of my ankle, but it wouldn’t stretch. When I finally got to see them, I saw that my big toes were angled slightly inward and my little toes were all crammed together and doubled over. They had conformed to the en pointe shape of the ballet boots. Evelyn was cradling my feet, cooing over how pretty they were. She glanced up at me, commenting, “No, you won’t walk again.”

            I hissed in despair. “What have you done to me. What have you done to me?”

            “I’m making you better,” said Evelyn.

            “Hsss! You’ve ruined me! Hssss! You’ve made me a freak! A crippled freak!”

            “Perhaps, but you’re my freak.” She rolled me over to undo the corset. I couldn’t even roll over on my own. I drooled and hissed and gnashed my teeth against the carpet. The removal of the corset felt wonderful and horrible at the same time. The release of the pressure felt great, but I suddenly felt like I had no support at all. It was as if my spine had been turned to jelly in an instant. I touched my waist when I was rolled back over, and found it was just about as narrow without the corset as it had been with it. She peeled off the spandex suit and corset liner and I found my skin had become fish belly white all over. Evelyn stood back to admire me, then went to get the tub ready. I heard the sound of bathwater running.

            I rested on the floor. All the moving I had done had exhausted me. Ridiculous. I cried and drooled. I was ruined. Ruined. I could never walk again? Ever? That meant no more shoes. But I loved designer shoes. My sobs turned into hysterical giggles, which turned into hiccups. My head rolled to the side. I saw an oak armoire and her bedside table. There was a phone on the bedside table, one of those big, old-fashioned rotary ones, which suited the décor of the room. Its cord was dangling down to the floor.

            Phone! I tried to move myself to the bed stand. I paddled my arms and dug the tips of my permanently pointed toes into the nap of the carpet and strained with all my might. I made it about three feet before I went limp from total exhaustion. I reached for the hanging cord, which I couldn’t have wrapped my fingers around even if I could touch it. The nightstand was still a yard away from my outstretched fingertips.

            “Aha. Caught you. I see I’ll have to take care of the phones if I’m to leave you out of braces for any length of time,” Evelyn said as she emerged from the bathroom.

            I laboriously turned my head towards her. “You’re naked,” I observed stupidly.

            “Yes? You don’t expect me to bathe you in my clothes, do you? What?”

            After all this time, that was the first time I had seen her naked. She still had the soft belly, wide hips, and thick thighs she had when I first met her. Her heavy breasts had dusky pink nipples. I could now see that her trips to the gym had not been without result. Beneath the layer of softness was a lot of muscle. She stood about a head taller than me back when I could still stand (I was a short one), and she had easily been twice my weight then, if not more. A good portion of that weight was now muscle instead of fat. She stood there looking like some kind of pagan fertility goddess. She was beautiful, in a scary way. My god, I thought, she could snap me like a twig. I was suddenly filled with incredible envy. Her body was strong, curvy, soft, and feminine–the total opposite of my current condition. I might have been soft, but not in any good or feminine way. I hardly felt human compared to her. I felt like a drooling beast compared to her. I stared at her in complete awe, almost forgetting–for just a moment–about my body. For just an instant, I almost felt lust.

            “Like I said, I’ve been working out a little,” she said, straightening up and flexing her arms. The effect was intimidating. She smiled shyly, dropping her arms, suddenly self-conscious. “It’s certainly not how I thought I’d ever end up, but I suppose that makes two of us. Come on, lets get you in the tub.” She knelt at my side and scooped me up with hardly any apparent effort. I could feel the strength of her muscles against my bare skin. I had felt powerless against her since I had been kidnapped, but this was a completely new kind of powerlessness. It was more personal, in a unsettling way. My head rolled back and my unsupported limbs dangled. She narrowly avoided banging my head against the doorpost.

            The bathroom was medium-sized, and most of the space was taken up by the large Jacuzzi tub. The faucets were still going and there was a mass of bubbles in the tub. Evelyn lowered me down into the tickling bubbles. When I felt the hot water I nearly went into shock. It felt so good that it was almost enough to make me weep. She set me in the bottom of the tub, in about a foot of water. I saw her lathering up a scrunchy body scrub ball and I hissed at her. “I don’t need you here,” I said. “If I can do anything, I can wash own damn self.”

            “Don’t be silly,” she said, reaching for me with the scrub. I opened my mouth and hissed loudly and she froze. “Alright. Alright, you want to do it yourself. You’re welcome to it.” She shrugged, all nonchalant, and left me in alone in the bathroom.

            Finally. The fizzing, hot water was pure heaven. Now I had to figure out how to make my body work. I soon discovered, despite the buoyancy the water gave me, I was still too feeble to do much of anything but squirm around a little in the bottom of the tub. I slowly got my trembling hands up to the edge to pull myself into a better position, but that didn’t work either. My fingers just wouldn’t grasp anything and my arms were too weak to pull myself up. The water continued to rise and I couldn’t push myself up to lean against the back of the tub. I splashed around like a bug in molasses as the water level rose up to my neck, then to my chin.

            I was starting to get worried when Evelyn came back in and checked on me. “Oh, you’re doing fine, I see,” she commented. Instead of assisting me, she went and sat on the lid of the toilet. I could just see her over the top of the tub. She was examining some decorative hand towels on a ring. “I once had a patient who suffered from mild bipolar. That wasn’t his real problem, though. His real problem was that he was simply to proud to ask anyone for help. And I mean, for anything. He insisted on doing everything for himself, even if it meant taking ten times as long or costing more money, or even if it meant throwing his back out in the process. He wouldn’t have gone to see me for help with bipolar–he wanted to fix that himself–except that his wife threatened to divorced him if he didn’t.”

            She continued her pedantic speech even as the water continued to rise. I was tilting my head back as best I could to keep my nose above water. Another inch and it would cover me. I was beginning to panic. Holy shit, I thought, I’m about to drown in a bathtub. A fucking bathtub!

            “So anyway, to make a long story short, last I heard, the fool had broken his arm from falling off his roof and died in a crash while trying to drive himself to the hospital. The moral is: some people just don’t know when to ask for help.” She looked over at me. I was holding my breath, the water having reached my bottom eyelids. “How about you?” she asked me, then got up and shut off the faucet. She pulled me out of the water and leaned me in the proper position against the slope of the tub. I gasped for air through my nose tube. “Do you know when to ask for help? You can’t do anything without me, Kathy. You don’t need to feel ashamed about it. It is simply a fact of life. You need me. Say it.”

            “Hsss! I need you,” I mouthed, glaring at her spitefully out of humiliation for needing to be rescued from a bathtub.

            Sitting on the edge of the tub, she fished one of my legs out of the water and began to scrub it. “There, there, don’t feel bad. It’s not your fault you’re helpless.”

            I tried hard to forget about what just happened, as well as the debilitated condition of my body, and tried instead to focus on enjoying the bath. It was something I’d been dreaming about for months, after all. The water felt wonderful (even if it now represented a fatal hazard), and my stiff limbs began to relax a little. The scrubbing was deliciously painful to my feet, since they were insanely sensitive after being booted all that time. She could barely separate my toes to wash between them. It was embarrassing being washed by Evelyn. It was almost like being a child again and being washed by my parents–except I had no memories of that, myself. I suppose it was no less embarrassing than being fed or having my teeth brushed by her.

            Once she was finished with my body, she climbed into the tub behind me so she could wash my dirty hair. I was propped forward with my head hanging limp and my chin resting against my sternum. I watched strings of my saliva stretch to the water and diffuse under its surface while she lathered my hair. That felt wonderful, too. Before long, that position began to hurt my back, since I had gotten used to being rigidly corseted. My lower ribs were really starting to ache from the corset’s absence, as well. Then she leaned back against to the tub and pulled me with her, cradling me, so that I was resting with my head supported between her breasts and her soft belly pushing into my back. As much as I loathed to admit it, it was actually quite comfortable. It beat being in braces any day. I soaked like that for a while.

            Eventually, the bathwater got tepid and Evelyn climbed out. She spread a big towel on the floor to lay me on, then dragged my sodden limpness out of the tub. After I was thoroughly dried, she propped me up against the outside of the tub to do my hair. I was already getting sick of being ‘propped’ here and there. I guess I could have been difficult and willed myself to tumble to one side or the other, but then I would have just cracked my head against the floor. Evelyn, having put on a bathrobe, was having a blast doing my hair. Giggling all the while, she brushed, dried, and curled it. That was okay, I guess. Having my hair done made me feel a little more human. It hurt, though. I had so many tangles she had to brush out that my head would get pulled back and forth with every stroke. I just couldn’t hold it in one place.

            To my surprise, she even brought out a bag of makeup. It was the long-lasting kind, she told me, so that I wouldn’t smudge or drool it off. “I got these just for you. I think I matched your color pretty well. I know you’re probably tired and just want to go to sleep, but I just can’t resist.”

            I could tell she was being a tad heavy-handed with the makeup application, but I supposed it didn’t matter. Who would see me? I wished I could do it myself, just the way I liked it, but even if I could have gripped a tube of lipstick, I currently didn’t have the coordination to draw so much as a stick figure with it. Evelyn went on to trim my toenails, shape my fingernails, and paint them an expensive, glossy, plum red. My hands still looked strange to me, as if they weren’t even a part of me. And my feet. I didn’t want to even look at me feet. “Alright, I’m done. Do you want to see?”

            I started to nod and that made my head fall forward. Crap. “Yes,” I said, as I drooled onto my corset-shaped tummy.

            Evelyn wrapped her arms around my waist and hefted me up. She took me over to the wall mirror, my pointed toes just barely brushing the floor. There was a weird moment of mental schism as my brain struggled to process the reflection of actually being me. After all those months without seeing myself, I had almost forgotten what I looked like. What I remembered looking like didn’t match what was in the mirror. It was someone else. Something else. My head flopped to the side. My pale body hung limp like a corpse in Evelyn’s arms. No, not so much like a corpse. More like a doll. I looked like a doll. The foundation she had used was pale, even for my pale complexion. The lipstick was dark red, like my nails, and my eyeshadow was dark with exaggerated lashes. The blusher only served to emphasis my pallor and didn’t look natural at all. The foundation barely concealed the rings under my eyes. Evelyn shifted her footing and my head lolled back to rest on her shoulder. A trickle of saliva came from the corner of my mouth and went down the side of my chin. So that’s what it looks like when I do that. Gross! And I do it all the time? Ick!

            “See?” Evelyn was saying. “And to think you were worried. You’re adorable!”

            Adorable? I don’t look adorable, I look like a cross between a dead heroin addict and a fucking blow-up doll! What’s adorable about that? I was raging inside while Evelyn carried me back into the bedroom. As soon as I felt the soft bed underneath me, I instantly forgot all about my appearance. All I wanted was sleep. I guess what little moving around I had done that evening had totally exhausted me. Evelyn looked at me with a funny expression, then lifted my head off covers and let it go. Unsupported, my head just fell limp back onto the bed. “Perfect,” she murmured, and did it several more times.

            It was really starting piss me off. “Hssssss!”

            Evelyn chuckled. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop. It’s just too cute.”

            I shut my eyes, making myself calm down. “Do I go back in the braces now?” I asked, expecting to be taken back up to the attic.

            “No, why? Do you want to be?”

            “What? I thought it was just for the bath. I get to stay out?”

            “Yes, of course. For tonight, at least,” Evelyn said. She was changing into one of her nightgowns.

            Thank god, thank god. I now understood that being unbraced wouldn’t provide much chance to get rescued; not now that I knew how truly weak and helpless I was. But for now, simply being free of the braces for a while seemed liked a minor miracle in itself. Evelyn hadn’t thought to get a nightie in my size, so one of her slips worked in a pinch. She had to pull me into an uncomfortable sitting position to dress me. My back was starting to kill me. “Wait,” I said hesitantly, “wait, I think…”

            “What is it?”

            “I think I need the corset. I don’t want it. It’s just my waist, it’s really starting to hurt. Pretty bad.” I had hoped it would go away, but the discomfort in my uncompressed waist was showing no signs of fading. If anything, it was getting worse. The muscles in my waist and back were even less toned then those in my arms and legs. They just couldn’t handle the strain.

            “Oh! That hadn’t even occurred to me. I’m so sorry,” she said, fetching the corset and its liner from the floor. She rolled me into it and started lacing it back up. “I’ve gone ahead and ordered a new one for you. They take a long time to make. I can’t lace this one any tighter. Twenty-one inches is as small as it goes.”

            Twenty-one inches? I’m twenty-one inches? Jesus! Before she had taken me, my waist had been a twenty-seven. Sometimes a twenty-eight, depending. I couldn’t believe my waist had been squished down by five or six inches. “Wha?” I mouthed, as she laced and yanked the corset tight. “How small - hss! - are you trying - hss! - to make me?”

            “Oh, I never really had a set idea. I suppose I’ll just keep going until it won’t get smaller.” She tied off the laces and rolled me back over. “Be back in a minute. Don’t go anywhere.”

            “Yeah. I’ll try to keep myself from bouncing off the walls,” I said, but Evelyn had already moved well out of earshot. I squirmed on the bed. It was even harder moving on the bed than on the floor. Too much give. I managed to turn my head a little and saw that she had removed the bedside phone and taken it somewhere. Well, dammit! Why can’t she even give me a chance? If this had been some movie, I would have probably had a thousand chances for escape already.

            I pawed at the corset. Wow. Twenty-one inches. I was past the point of ‘I wish I was that size’ and well on my way to the realm of ‘Would you look at that freak’s waist?’. Dammit. I had to admit, it felt a whole lot better with the corset on. The pain was fading away and I no longer had the disturbing sensation of being totally spineless. Great. Corset-dependent. I hoped my spit would stain Evelyn’s duvet cover.

            Evelyn returned with the IV and bags. She wheeled it around to the side of the bed and plugged the tube into my nose. “Can’t have you going thirsty, now can I? Now for a catheter.” She hiked up the slip and spread my thighs to install a fresh catheter (which I could hardly even feel go in, anymore), then exclaimed in an uncharacteristic whine, “Kathyyy! Why did you do that?”

            “Huh? What?” I had no idea what she was talking about.

            “You peed on my bed. Couldn’t you have held it for just one more minute? This is dry clean only!”

            “I did?” I hadn’t even noticed it was coming out.

            “Oh well, it’s not a huge spot. But that’s just bad manners,” she griped while dabbing at the spot with a wad of tissues.

            Take that! I thought with gleeful malice, then sung in my head, I peed in her bed, I peed in her bed, I peed in the evil bitch’s bed! Heehee!

            Evelyn look at me sourly, then inserted the catheter, none too gently. I was still giggling as she straightened me up in the bed and plopped my head on a pillow, which was covered with a towel to catch my saliva. Wow, that was really soft. Almost too soft. I wondered if I would be able to sleep without the firm control of braces holding my head in place. That was an unpleasant thought; could I possibly get so used to braces that being out of them was more uncomfortable than being in them?

            Evelyn climbed into the other side of the bed and began to read some hardbound book. I moved my legs around a little under the covers. The sheets felt almost as nice on my skin as the hot water. No risk of drowning, either. Jinx came in, hopped up on the bed, looked momentarily startled to find two people in his bed, then went ahead and curled up between us. I shakily moved my arm across the covers and managed to pet his black fur a little. It felt so nice and soft. Evelyn, focused on her reading, also reached to pet the cat, found my hand already there, and gave it a little squeeze. I tugged it away and she let it go. If she leans over and sticks her tongue in my ear, I thought, I’m gonna scream.

            I began to squirm fitfully a few minutes later. “I want to be on my side.”

            “That’s no way to ask,” she said, not looking up from her book.

            I hissed in irritation. “Would you please put me on my side, then, please?”

            “Of course, slave.”

            She rolled me. It felt strange being on my side. I always used to sleep that way, but hadn’t in months. My joints settled into the unfamiliar position. Wet bubbles came out of the corner of my mouth and trickled into the towel. I was facing the wall with the doll display. “What’s with all the dolls?” I asked.

            “What? Did you say something?”

            “Hsss! I asked what’s with all the dolls.”

            “Oh! Those. I just like them,” she said. “Aren’t they pretty? I’ve been collecting dolls since I was little.”

            “Freaky if you ask me.” I had an unpleasant epiphany. “And I guess now I’m the best one in your collection.”

            “That’s exactly right!” she said cheerfully. She sidled over to me under the covers and cuddled against my back, spooning me. I hissed loudly, but that didn’t deter her. She had her arm around my disappearing waist and I could feel her breath on the back of my neck. Well, it was still better than being in braces. Barely.

            “I’m not one of your dolls. I’m a human being,” I said.

            “Are you so sure?” she asked.

            “I won’t–”

            “Oh, hush, puppet,” she said into my ear. “You know, I love when you’re braces, but this is nice too. You’re much more pleasant to snuggle when you’re not all covered in metal.”

Chapter 17

            Except for a couple trips upstairs to get an enema, I spent the bulk of the next day either in Evelyn’s bed or on the carpet. I was determined to get my strength back, any strength that I could. It hurt and was exhausting, but I refused to give up. By the end of the day I had figured out how to move around on the floor by kind of belly-crawling in slow motion, using my knees and forearms to pull myself along. It thought I must look like a gangly, white slug. It was exhausting and my limbs quivered for a long time after. I would take frequent naps, falling asleep wherever I lay, and then wake up really sore. I found, to my humiliation, that the most comfortable position for my legs was how they had been braced–spread wide apart. My hips would start to ache when I had my thighs together for too long, so I was forced to lie there with my knees apart like an eager whore. The worst part was that my neck was still way too weak to support my head very well, so I had to crawl with my face buried in the carpet. Christ. Evelyn watched my progress from time to time while munching a Christmas cookie, neither encouraging nor discouraging my efforts. Mostly, she left me on my own. She was still decorating downstairs. There was no tv in her bedroom and the carpet’s topography was pretty damn boring, but at least I was free.

            That evening she put me in her bed and sat next to me. She had brought down that infernal pussy-stimulating machine. She stroked my cheek in a most distressingly intimate fashion. “It’s time for you to earn your keep, Kathy,” she told me and smiled mysteriously.

            “Huh?”

            “I’ve been taking care of you all this time. Haven’t I been taking good care of you?”

            “Yes,” I replied automatically. I had practically been programmed with that response.

            “Yes. I even let you have your fill of pleasure. Now I want you to do something for me in return,” she said.

            “What do you mean?” I asked, stupidly. Does boredom effect IQ?

            “Silly thing, I want you to make me feel good.”

            “Oh. Uh… oh,” I stammered. I should have known this was coming. But how to turn her down without making her angry? “Um, I really don’t feel up to that tonight. You know, busy day, crawling on the floor all day and all.”

            She just smiled. “I’m sure I don’t mind.”

            “But I can’t do anything! What do you expect from me? I can’t move.”

            “Hmm, perhaps not, but your mouth,” she said deliberately, “is still in perfect working order.”

            Oh, crap. “Pleeease,” I whined, “I really don’t wanna–”

            “You like being out of your braces, don’t you?” she asked rhetorically. “Well, if you want continue to stay down here and spend Christmas without them, you’ll have to do what I want.”

            “That’s not fair!”

            “I didn’t say it was fair. But those are the rules.” She settled herself down, resting on an elbow. “Come on, Kathy. It won’t be so bad. I have your favorite toy right here.”

            “I don’t want it,” I said with a pout, but she started lubing it up anyway. I tried to close my thighs, but her slightest effort was able to force them wide apart. She inserted and secured the damned, electrified pussy twitcher. She started kissing me on the mouth, which she continued to do for a long time. I was too used to this to even feel sick to my stomach. All I felt was a helpless, indignant sense of personal invasion.

            It all came down to how bad I wanted to stay out of the braces. Which was the lesser of two evils? Was prostituting myself and becoming her sex toy worth another day of freedom? It was a close vote, but, yeah, it was worth it. I didn’t have to like it, though. I don’t mean to sound like it was nothing, but it sure as hell didn’t come as a surprise. I had months to get used to the idea, after all. It was clear this night would be coming since the first time she got into bed with me. It could have been worse if it had to happen, though. At least she was being gentle.

            When she finally broke the kiss, I scowled at her and asked, “Does it matter that I hate your guts?”

            She feigned a moue of injury, then smiled. “Let’s see. Nope. I can’t say that it does.”

            “I could bite you. Hard.”

            “You could, yes, but you won’t,” she said.

            “Why not?”

            “Because I’ll hurt you if you do,” she said, still smiling, and began to kiss and nuzzle my neck. Well, I guess that settled that.

            Evelyn spent a long time kissing and touching me all over while cooing and whispering how lovely my body was. I guess you could call it almost worshipful. I just wanted to skip the foreplay and get this over with. I tried to zone out, but it didn’t work. I couldn’t even fend her off. Instead, I just laid there like a corpse. The thought occurred to me that I was a pretty unresponsive lover, and I had to stifle a laugh.

            After a while, though, I had to admit it actually felt kind of nice. Maybe just a little. It’s just that I’d had so little physical contact for so long. I had never been a touchie-feelie kind of person, but losing my mobility to braces and staring at wallpaper for months gave me a lot of time to think of things I had missed out on and might never get to experience again. But don’t think that for one second I lost sight of the fact that it was Evelyn who put me in such a predicament in the first place.

            Before long I found myself face down in Evelyn’s crotch. She had arranged me in a position most comfortable for herself and most humiliating for me. She got to rest on the pillows and I, with virtually no use of my neck, was planted face first in her pussy. I could barely even get air. She was clean, thank god, but… didn’t she ever consider shaving? I mean, ick. It was a pretty intimidating position, as well. Her large, well-padded thighs were huge from my perspective and, well, they were really, really strong.

            Eating pussy didn’t bother me. After all, I was bi, even if closeted, and that was something that not even Evelyn knew about me. This act was nothing new to me, even if I hadn’t done it in a long time. I just wished it was someone other than my arch-nemesis, the Evil Bitch Queen, who had been holding prisoner in the tower of her castle... yeah, well, I’d had a lot of free time for daydreaming, lately. I figured the best way to get through this was to get it over with quickly, so I went to work. I started off licking perfunctorily, with no more passion than planting a kiss on Grandma’s cheek. Then she started giving me directions, which began to annoy me. I had plenty of experience in this from girl relationships I had in college (when I wasn’t too busy studying or working, that is), and naturally I had always striven to be the best at whatever I applied myself to. I took off the kid gloves and went to work with all the skills my tongue and lips could recall. That got her attention.

            “You’ve done this before? Oh! Oh my, you have done this before! Oh my.”

            In short order, saliva and pussy juice were running freely down my chin. I realized I might have made a miscalculation in getting her even more turned on, because now she was pulling my hair to get me get me deeper and crushing my skull with those massive, earth-goddess thighs. I couldn’t even get any air through my air tube until I nipped at her just to make her ease off.

            The electric monster in my own pussy came time life inside me and soon I was getting just as turned on as she was. I didn’t want to, not in that situation, but I couldn’t help it. It was like some programmed reaction. It did not take long for me to become a mindless, drooling thing, licking away with all the enthusiasm my limited mobility would allow. Inside, part of me was screaming in shame, but at that moment, I couldn’t possibly have cared less. You take a little happiness wherever you can find it. Right?

……

            Afterwards, Evelyn quietly cradled me, hugging me into her bosom. She seemed pretty damned happy. As for me, I felt a little bit proud of myself, on purely technical merit. I also felt dirty. I felt like I had lost something just then, but I didn’t even know what it was. Self-esteem? Humanity? The last of my dignity? I did not like it, nor did I like the thought of what I had temporarily become. Whatever it was, it was what Evelyn wanted me to be, not what I wanted me to be. She had made me become something else, and what’s worse, she had made me enjoy it. For a little while.

            “Aww, don’t cry,” she said. “That was wonderful. That was… wow. You were the best ever. You know what? I don’t think I hate you anymore.”

            “Then let me go,” I mumbled into her chest.

            “In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with you.”

            Oh, crap. “Then let me go,” I repeated.

            She hugged me even tighter. “There’s no way I’m letting you get away now. You’re my own little invalid and nobody in the world needs me more than you. No, I’m not ever letting you go.” 

Chapter 18

            A few days later it was Christmas Eve. Like the previous days, I spent most of the morning trying to get into shape. I was getting a little more limber so moving around didn’t cause my tendons to scream in protest, but I was still pretty stiff and I certainly wasn’t any stronger. I couldn’t do a single pushup. I was frustrated, since I was just starting to learn how much work it would be even if my muscles weren’t damaged. When my arms and legs got tired from belly-crawling around on the carpet (and once my face got too rug-burnt), I would focus on my hands and feet. I had acquired about twenty degrees of flexibility in my wrists as things loosened up. My fingers were still very stiff; I tried to force them to into a fist by pushing them into the carpet, but that produced an unpleasant sensation of the tendons and things going taut like cables along the backs of my fingers and hands. And my feet… I didn’t want to think about my feet. Whenever I thought about them, I got depressed. My toes and ankles were still completely frozen in their ballet-boot shape. If that didn’t improve, then I would never be able to wear shoes again. Hell, forget shoes; even if I got my strength back one hundred percent, I would never be able to walk. Not with feet like that. I jammed those thoughts down deep and locked them up. If I kept dwelling on what I couldn’t do, I would lose the motivation to do anything. The frustration and fear was enough to drive me to drag myself, an inch at a time, to the dark security beneath the bed and stay there for a couple of hours.

            Evelyn came up while I was still hiding under the bed. “Kathy, would you like to… Kathy? Where are you?” I heard her footsteps pause, go into the bathroom, come back into the bedroom and walk around the bed. “Where did you get to? Oh, there you are. Silly thing, I see your foot. Come out from under there.”

            “Hsss!”

            “Stop that. Come on.” She gripped my ankle and tugged me out from my hiding place, giving my nipples some serious carpet burn in the process. She tsked in disapproval when she saw the dust that had stuck to my wet lips and chin. She wiped them clean and re-tightened the ponytail that she had put my hair in to keep it out of my face while I was crawling around. “There we go. I guess I should thank you for collecting all the dust bunnies under there. I came up to ask if you’d like to come downstairs. You can have some cookies.”

            “What? I can?” Food? Real food?

            “Sure you can. It’s Christmas!” She scooped me up and carried my limp form down to the first floor.

            Everything looked neat and tidy down there, like an ad for Better Homes and Gardens: nice furniture, polished hardwood floors, ornate rugs, and dried floral decorations. Lots of antique-looking stuff. I saw a decorated Christmas tree in the living room as I was carried past. There were also wreaths, candles, and lots of other festive brik-a-brak. I was surprised at how clean everything was. I wasn’t a slob in my ‘old’ life, but I never got obsessive about it or anything. I saved that for my job. It looked like Evelyn spent a great deal of time keeping her house nice and presentable, even though she never had any visitors. I was struck again by the thought of how unexciting and lonely Evelyn’s life must be, or must have been before I came along. I was also struck by the thought of how the tidy, ordered surroundings must be a direct contrast to the psycho chaos inside her head.

            She took me into the kitchen where, on a table in the center of the room, was a batch of fresh sugar cookies. She started to set me in one of the wooden chairs, then changed her mind and propped me against a table leg. “Don’t want you tumbling off the chair and hurting yourself,” she said. My legs wanted to go in that humiliating, wide-spread-and-straight brace position, and I let them rather than make my hips ache. She sat in the chair and picked up a wreath-shaped cookie with green icing, which she pressed to my lips. “Here, try one.”

            I automatically took a bite before I realized the logistical problems of taking a bite of something I couldn’t swallow. Well, old habits die hard. I must have looked dumbfounded, sitting there with a bit of cookie in mouth, because Evelyn wedged a bowl between my spread thighs and tucked a cloth napkin into the top edge of my corset. I made a questioning sound.

            “Just spit it out when you’re done with it. Then you can have some more.”

            I glared in indignation and attempted a hiss, which made me spray a few cookie crumbs.

            “Go on. You know there’s no reason to be embarrassed in front of me. It’s not like you have many options.”

            Grudgingly, I began to chew. For a second I thought they were the most bland, flavorless cookies ever made, then I remembered I couldn’t smell. I had learned you can hardly taste anything unless you can smell it, too. I could have had a mouth full of the finest caviar and it wouldn’t have tasted much different from a spoonful of Vaseline. I let the flavorless mouthful fall out of my lips, aiming for the bowl, but it landed wetly on my thigh, instead. I grimaced and whined, “I can’t taste anything.”

            “What’s wrong? Oh! I had forgotten about that. I apologize. Let’s see if I can’t fix that with a little adjustment.” She squatted beside me and tilted my head back. I felt her tugging on my breathing tube, which caused a whole series of unsettling sensations as it shifted slightly all the way down through my nose and throat. She peeled the soft rubber flange that had formed a seal between the tube and nostril, and suddenly I could smell again. The tube was still in my nose and I was still breathing through it, but air could now get between it and my… what do you call them? Scentbuds? Anyway, it worked and I could taste the remnants of cookie in my mouth, as well as smell the delicious aromas in the room.

            It was sensory ecstasy. I hadn’t tasted anything other than the mintyness of toothpaste for so long. I had forgotten just how potent a little sugar could be. It was so good and sweet, sweet, sweet. I anxiously opened my mouth for another bite, which she gave me. I chewed contentedly, savoring every bite, but then I had to spit it out. Not only was it disgustingly messy, it was unsatisfying. I never realized just how much the pleasure of eating depended on actually swallowing the food. Oh well. At least I didn’t have to worry about empty calories. The problem was, without any stomach feedback, I couldn’t get enough to satiate me.

            “Want another?” Evelyn asked. She was brushing icing onto a batch of plain cookies. She started to reach for another to feed me.

            “Hsss! I can do it myself,” I said, impatient. I wanted to try, anyway. I had been able to get my thumbs to move a little. If I couldn’t hold something as light as a cookie, I was hopeless.

            “Can you? Alright,” Evelyn said, agreeably, and held the tray within my reach.

            I concentrated hard, intending to simply reach out and take one. Instead, my uncoordinated hand slapped down on the tray. I watched an ornament-shaped cookie go flipping up into the air and shatter into several pieces about six feet away. I gazed at it forlornly. Evelyn snorted, shook her head, and went back to dabbing icing on the cookies, smiling to herself. I waited a minute before asking, “I can’t have another?”

            “Of course you can. You wanted to do it yourself, so go ahead. That’s your cookie over there. Go fetch,” she said. She took the bowl out of my lap, then took my arm and lowered me slowly onto my side.

            “Hssss! Nooo.”

            “It’s up to you,” she said simply, and returned her attention the icing.

            I grumbled and squirmed onto my belly. I didn’t want to slither around the kitchen floor for her amusement, but I didn’t want her to win the battle and force me to admit my dependence on her yet again. Especially after that ‘invalid’ talk the other night. Besides, I really wanted that cookie. I cast her feet a spiteful glare, then, with great effort, I slowly dragged myself across the spotless and polished wood floor.

            When I was almost there, Jinx came moseying into the kitchen and stopped to stare at me with curiosity. Dismissing me as a harmless aberration, he padded over to the cookie. He sniffed and licked once at the icing. I hissed loudly at him. Stay away, pussy, that cookie belongs to me! He glanced at me, licked his chops, then haughtily turned and walked away, in search of more cattish fare.

            I finally got to the cookie and discovered my thumbs weren’t as effective as I had hoped. I could paw at the pieces, but I just couldn’t pick them up. Determined, I pulled myself closer. I was able to scoop the cookie close with the edge my hand and, with my cheek pressed to the floor, get it into my mouth with my lips and tongue. I chewed, awash with sugary bliss.

            Evelyn applauded. “Very good! Not so helpless after all, I see. Let’s see you do it again.” She broke a cookie in half and tossed it to the floor. I felt it bounce off the sole of my foot.

            I didn’t know what to do with what was already in my mouth. “Bupmuff. Fuff.”

            “Just spit it out. It won’t hurt the floor. Lord knows I’m used to cleaning up after you,” said Evelyn.

            Disgusted at myself, but also feeling a little thrill that I was able to spit on Evelyn’s ever-so-clean floor, I let it fall out of my mouth. I hauled myself around to pursue the second cookie, which I also chewed up and spat out.

            Evelyn continued the little game, tossing several more cookies on the floor, making me crawl back and forth to get them. I had intended to show her I could do it myself, but ended up just degrading myself even more by crawling around for a treat like some animal. Like some poor beast performing circus tricks. I became exhausted long before she grew bored with it. I was also a mess, having accidentally crawled over my own chewed cookie piles. My arms and breasts were slimy and there were long streaks on the floor. She rolled me over and wiped me down with a wet washcloth. “I’m going to have to mop in here now,” she sighed, but she didn’t sound upset about it. I was given a mouthful of eggnog, which tasted wonderful. I was gratified to be allowed to spit it into the bowl instead of having to dribble it down my chest.

Chapter 19

            “It’s time for presents! Aren’t you excited?”

            “Presents?” I had been lying on the couch in the living room for several hours, watching the blinking lights on the tree. Thank god she didn’t have Christmas music playing. That would have been too much. The feeding bag was hooked up to me from an IV stand placed beside the couch. My half-filled catheter bag was on the floor. That little rubber thing had been put back on the nose tube, so I couldn’t smell or taste anything again. I struggled to get myself into a more upright position, then gave up and settled back down. “Presents? But it’s not Christmas yet.”

            “Oh, I know. My family always opened them on Christmas Eve.”

            “That’s weird.”

            “It is not. Lots of people do that. Either way, I have a few little gifts for you. I didn’t trouble with wrapping them, I hope you don’t mind. I thought finding yourself unable to get wrapped packages open would just make you feel bad,” she said.

            “You’re so thoughtful,” I said churlishly. I was still upset about the cookie incident and I didn’t want any gifts from Evelyn. What would she possibly think of to give me? A Jam of the Month subscription? Perhaps a respirator to hook me up to, so that I wouldn’t have to exert myself breathing? Ugh. I shouldn’t temp fate by even thinking about that.

            “I am thoughtful, aren’t I?” She disconnected the feeding tube and sat me on the floor with my back against the sofa. I could see a small stack of boxes she had set on the floor. “Oh, wait,” she said, and turned on the stereo in the credenza. Soft holiday music filled the air. I winced in agony. Evelyn sat down next to me and opened a box for me. She pulled out some kind of garment. “I had a seamstress at a costume shop make this to your measurements. I hope it fits okay.”

            When she spread it out, I could see it was yet another full body, lycra suit. Yay. Just what I wanted. This one was a very pale, matte color that was almost white, bordering a peachy pink. It looked a little more thick than the one I was used to. The seams had exaggeratedly heavy stitching. “What’s that for?”

            “That’s just part of a little outfit I thought up for you. It’s going to be so cute! The rest of these are some regular clothes I bought for you, but I’ll wait to show you those when the time comes. And look here, this is the best part.” She opened a box and lifted out a… hood? She set it on my lap so I could see it.

            It was a lycra hood, like the other one I had worn, except it was the same color as the new suit. The difference was, in place of an open face, there was an attached face mask. It looked and felt like porcelain, but it was probably some kind of plastic. It had openings for the eyes and nostrils, and there was also a narrow slit between the slightly parted lips. It was stark white with airbrushed makeup, red painted lips, thinly drawn eyebrows, all sealed under a high gloss. It was a doll’s face. A doll mask. “It’s… it’s…”

            “Isn’t it beautiful? I had to search high and low to find just the right one for you. Oh, you’re going to look precious.”

            Evelyn was so carried away she didn’t notice that I was silently freaking out. I was trembling all over. I can’t wear this, I was thinking. I won’t wear this. A doll, a doll, she wants to turn me into a doll, no, I can’t!

            She was prattling away. “It’s got a little padding on the inside so it should be comfortable. Of course, it’s not for all the time, mind you, just for special occa–” She broke off as noise came from outside the house. It sounded like a trashcan being knocked over. I had a sudden, desperate hope that it was someone coming to rescue me. A dog’s bark came from close by.

            “Oh, it’s that damn dog again. I’ve told that no account Jim time and time again to fix that fence, but does he listen? But why should he care? It’s not his flowerbeds that cur digs up.” She stood up, grabbed her coat out of the closet, and went to the door. “I’ll be right back. I’ll have to lead the stupid thing back home before it does any damage.”

            I sat there feeling my hopes deflate once more. Not a rescue. Just a nosy dog. The mask was staring blankly up at me. I swept it off my lap with a slow backhand. “I’m not somebody’s doll. I’m a human being. I won’t be reduced to a thing. I won’t wear that, I won’t,” I said to myself, on the verge of tears. A chilly draft on my naked skin gave me goosebumps. I made my head roll back onto the cushions and saw that Evelyn hadn’t shut the front door completely. The wind had pushed it open. Just a crack, but it was open. I almost didn’t understand what I seeing, at first. Then I forced myself into motion.

            I pushed myself away from the couch and hit the floor with a painful thud. A second later I was dragging myself across the area rug to the door. I was fatigued, sore, and as weak as a kitten, but adrenaline was fueling me now. I have to get out of here, I won’t live like this, I have to get out of here, get out, get out, was the mantra running through my head. Air whistled through my nose tube as I strained desperately to reach the door. The stupid catheter bag was dragging behind like some bizarre tail; I could feel the weight of it tugging at my bladder.

            I suddenly froze in mid-crawl, realizing that Evelyn could show up at any second. The voice in my head was screaming at me to stop. What if she catches you? She will catch you, she always does. Evelyn always wins. If she catches you she’ll hurt you. You don’t wanna be hurt. And then, from a deeper part of my mind, Besides, you belong here. You don’t have to like it, but you have to stay. You were a bad person and this is your punishment. If you stop now and admit to her what you were going to do, she might even reward you for stopping! You know she would!

            Where the hell had those last thoughts come from? Was I actually starting to believe, deep down, all the stuff Evelyn had been telling me for months? It was one thing to be afraid of punishment, that was normal, but to start agreeing with my captor? Become a willing participant? No, never! With a desperate hiss I started making my way to the door again.

            At least my hands were good for something, as I was able to wedge my fingers into the crack nudge it open wider. Cold, December air blasted me. I could see my breath as it came out of my nose tube. With strings of saliva dangling from my jaw, I slowly wiggled myself onto the porch. My bare breasts got scratched by the doormat, then frozen by the stones of the porch. I immediately began to shiver.

            It was already dark out and I couldn’t see much. So, the real world still exists, I thought. There were little ground lights that illuminated the winding walkway that lead from the porch to the front gate. I gave a single sob as I realized just how far away the street was. It would probably take me the better part of an hour to cross that distance with my slow crawl. I couldn’t see any neighboring houses; the trees and bushes were all too high and thick and they concealed everything. I saw the glow of headlights in the spaces between the front hedges as a car drove by. And… were those voices? Perhaps some people passing by on the sidewalk? I hissed loudly to attract attention, but that was no good.

            I proceeded to pull myself across the freezing porch stones (dammit, why did she need such a big porch, anyway? ) and over to the steps. There were only four of them. At least it was downhill. I winced and gritted my teeth as my breasts scraped over the edge of the first step. It was getting harder to move every second. My wasted muscles were becoming nearly paralyzed by the cold and my shivers had turned into convulsive body quakes. I went down another step and the extreme curve of my corseted tummy got caught on the edge of the porch. I paused to catch my breath. A few moments later, when I tried to resume my escape, I found I couldn’t. Move, dammit, move! I howled at my limbs, but my body was giving up. What with this and the rest of the crawling I had been doing today, my sad, puny muscles had reached the end of their endurance. They had given all they had. I started to cry. Unable to even raise my head enough to look up, I couldn’t see any of the yard, much less the gate beyond. I couldn’t tell if there was anybody out there. Please, somebody see me. Somebody look through the gate and see me. If there’s a god in heaven, let somebody see me. Please.

            “What on earth?” My heart about stopped when I heard Evelyn’s voice directly behind me. She must have come back into the house through the back door. Probably checking on what damage the dog did to her flowerbeds back there. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She sounded more astonished than upset. She came to the steps and stood over me. I felt her arms around my waist and I hissed loudly, like a pissed off snake sounding a warning, as she started to pick me up.

            “What were you trying to accomplish?” she asked as she carried me back into the house. “Were you hoping to make yourself so sick with cold that I’d have to take you to the hospital? You can forget that.”

            “Hsss! Hsssss! Hsssssssss!”

            “Be quiet! I don’t want to hear it. I can’t turn my back on you for a second, can I?” She kicked the door shut behind her and took me back into the living room.

            “Let me go, let me go–” I cried, and she did. I tumbled into an untidy heap onto the floor, narrowly avoiding a nasty blow to the head. I spread out on the rug like somebody clinging to a perilous cliff face. I turned my face toward her and bared my teeth. “Hsssss!”

            “Well? Explain yourself.”

            “F-fu-fff-fu…” God, I couldn’t even bring myself to swear at her anymore. The voice in my head, the one that had told me to stop, was berating me. You knew this was going to happen. You knew she was going to catch you. You knew it and you did it anyway! Why didn’t you just stop before you got to the door? Now you’re in for it. Did you really think you could escape? You’re stupid, stupid, stupid! I hid my face behind my arm, telling the voice, “Shut up! Just shut up!”

            “What? You don’t tell me to shut up.” She hoisted my head up with a handful of my hair, slapped me hard in the face, then let my head drop back to the floor.

            I started to cry again. I should have been pissed off and trying to fight her, but instead I was crying like a baby. Big, wet sobs. It was like I was a little child whose parent had just lashed out at her. Or, more aptly, I was like a cringing dog that had no concept of why it had just been swatted and knew only that its owner was mad about something. Defiant to defeated, all in one second. I was totally losing it. “D-don’t hurt meeee,” I blubbered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, don’t hurt me, pleeaase.”

            “I thought you had learned your lesson. I’m so disappointed in you. And on Christmas! After I gave you presents.”

            “I’m sorryyy,” I repeated, feeling an unexpected pang of guilt. What was happening to me? I shouldn’t feel guilty at all for trying to escape, but I did.

            Evelyn sighed. “I think it’s time you went back into the braces. You’re a danger to yourself out of them.”

            “No. No! Please! Don’t do that!” After only a few days of freedom? I couldn’t stand the thought of being put back into that rigid, muscle-paralyzing prison so soon.

            “Yes, I think it’s for the be–”

            “Hsss! Nooo! I’ll be good. Give me another chance. I’ll do anything. Anything!”

            Evelyn shook her and gave a sad smile. “What could you possibly offer me?”

            “I-I…” I was stymied. What did I have to offer that she couldn’t just take from me? “I don’t know, but–”

            Evelyn kicked off her shoes. They clattered across the floor. “Lick my feet.”

            “W-wha?”

            “You heard me, slave. Do it. Lick my toes.”

            I stared up at her as best I could, then pressed my face into the rug. Lick her toes? Lick her toes? What she wanted was distressing enough by itself. What was even more distressing was that I was seriously considering it. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

            “You will, or I’ll take you right upstairs, put you back in your braces, and blindfold you for a week. Earplugs, too. Remember what that was like? How you begged me never to do it again?”

            Being braced was bad enough, but not being able to move, see, or hear… it had practically become a phobia after my first experience like that. I had thought I would go out of my mind, and that had only been after one day, not a week. “No! You wouldn’t! Just for not licking your feet?”

             “It’s not about my feet, foolish thing. It’s about you not accepting certain realities. You don’t see it, do you? You still don’t seem to understand who’s the boss here. Me. I’m the one in control. I’m the one with the power. And look at you,” she said with a sneer. She towered above me like a monolithic statue. An angry goddess. “You’re helpless and pathetic. You’re my puppet. You do what I want you to, you feel what I want you to. I take care of you. I keep you alive. I’m the sole reason for your existence now. You’re nothing without me. Nothing.”

            I couldn’t say anything. All I could do was cringe and hiss and squirm under the force of her anger like a worm exposed to the sun. I might not have been nothing, like she said, but at that moment I sure felt like it. A weak, terrified thing slobbering on an expensive rug. Months ago I would have mocked her for giving a speech like that. Now, everything was different. Now, it started to sound like the truth. “Please stop,” I begged.

            “Want me to stop? Then get your tongue over here and show me that you know what you are.”

            Loathing myself, I tried to crawl to her. I wobbled my torso back and forth on the rug a few times. After all the activity that day and the recent, freezing escape attempt, my body had nothing left to give. The weight of her gaze made my body feel even heavier. “Hssss! Can’t! I can’t move.”

            “If you can get your ass down the front steps, you can make it over here. Now, move!”

            Spurned on by her anger, I found some reservoir of strength and managed to make it across the floor. My arms and legs felt like jello clad all in lead, but I did it. Crying, I lapped sloppily at her toes and feet while making wet, gurgling noises as an instrumental rendition of Little Drummer Boy drifted from the stereo. I hardly gave any thought at all to how insane, disgusting, and degrading it was. My only thought was that if I could debase myself enough I might be able to avoid further punishment. Pure, sycophantic self-preservation.

            “Better,” Evelyn said, sliding her foot out from under my lips. “I know you’re faking it, but some day, you’ll learn. Alright. We’re going to go upstairs to bed soon. I have to get up early to make it to my sister’s before breakfast. I may be the best cook among us, but Sarah makes a lovely Christmas ham. But first: your punishment.”

            “What? Hsss! No!” What was it I had just done? Wasn’t that punishment enough?

            “I’m afraid I have to. I have to as long as you keep misbehaving and forcing me to. When you stop, so will I. Understand?” she asked.

            “Nooo,” I moaned miserably. Please don’t put me back in braces, please, please…

            “Yes you do. However,” she said, “I can tell you really don’t want to be back in braces, and I’m just not in the mood to do something painful to you, tonight. Maybe–just this once–I’ll let you off the hook.”

            I wasn’t sure what I was hearing, so I didn’t move or say anything. Was it possible Evelyn would let this evening pass without doing something awful to me for my escape attempt? That wasn’t like her. I was waiting nervously for the catch, for the ‘Ha ha, fooled you!’ I couldn’t see her because my face was still pressed to floor near her feet.

            “What’s wrong? Would you rather I punish you? Do you need that to ease your guilty conscience?”

            “Huh? No! I just… you aren’t… you really aren’t gonna…?”

            “Not this time. Call me sentimental. Call it a Christmas treat. I think your imagination is sufficient to torment you with all the things I could do to you. But I won’t. Not tonight.” She leaned closer. “A thank you might be appreciated, though.”

            “Th-thanks,” I stammered. And I meant it to, too. I was sobbing with disbelief and gratitude. Goddamn it, I hated it when she twisted me around to feel grateful to her. She played with my head so easily. I had tried to escape her clutches and not only did I fail (again!), but in the end I was sincerely thanking her for her generous kindness.

……

            Evelyn hardly uttered a word as she carried me to the bedroom and got us ready for bed. Getting me ready for bed, outside of the attic, consisted of giving me an enema, giving my hair a cursory swipe, brushing my teeth (always messy), dressing me in a slip, putting me in bed, making sure my catheter line was unobstructed, and hooking up my drip-feed (water-only at night).

            My body was so worn out that my muscles were quivering by the time she finally pulled the covers over me. I was desperate for some rest, but I was still too wired after everything that had happened to get to sleep. I could hear Evelyn finish wrapping some presents for her sister. “I always put it off until last minute,” she told me. Her wrapping creases were so damn perfect. After stacking them neatly against the wall when she was finished, she slid into bed and snuggled up next to me. I was pushed onto my side so she could spoon me. “I put some pills in your water so you’ll sleep soon. Until then, we need to have a little talk.”

            “We do?” I asked, suddenly afraid that she had changed her mind about the punishment and was going to do something terrible to me. In a way, she did do something terrible.

            “Yes. I would like to know why you still want to escape from me.”

            “Whaaat?” I was speechless. I felt my ire rising. “You don’t know? Have you completely lost it?”

            “Careful with your words,” she cautioned. “You’re treading on thin ice tonight, already. So, tell me. I want to know.”

            “Why do you think?” I asked crossly. “You kidnapped me! What do you expect me to do? Of course I want to escape!”

            I felt her shake her head. “You deserved what I did, and you know it. I know why you should want to get away originally. It’s only natural for the guilty to want to escape justice. That wasn’t my question. I asked why you still wanted to escape.”

            I just stammered and sputtered in confusion. What could she possibly want me to say?

            She reached up and wiped my cheek with the towel. “What do you hope to accomplish, now, by leaving me? Hmm? Do you want to see me go to jail?”

            I wondered if she was trying to trick me into an answer that would give her an excuse to do something to me. But I wasn’t so far gone I couldn’t still speak my mind. “Y-yes,” I hissed. “For what you’ve done to me. Yes.”

            “And then what?” she asked.

            “Then what, what?” I was having trouble keeping up with this conversation.

            “After I go to jail. Then what will you do? Go back to work? Think you could get your old job back, even if they had an opening?”

            I winced. Ever since I had realized how badly Evelyn had ruined my body, I had been trying not to think of everything it would mean if I really was like this for life. It was a nagging specter in the back of my mind. Of course I wouldn’t be able to go back to my old job now. Evelyn nudged me, indicating she wanted an answer. “No,” I mumbled.

            “Then what would you do? Be a secretary? You can’t even type anymore.”

            “I could still do something,” I objected. People who could barely move could still work, right?

            “Perhaps you could,” she said, then changed the subject. “Do you know what I would do to if you ever successfully got help for yourself, say, perhaps got someone to call the police?”

            “No.” I don’t want to know, I don’t want to know.

            “You don’t?” She snuggled me closer, in that possessive way. “What I would do is make sure you were a lot more helpless than you are now, for the rest of your life. If I thought someone was coming to take you way from me, I bet I would have time enough to put out your eyes.” She pressed her fingertips over my eyelids and I stiffened.

            “You wouldn’t,” I insisted desperately. “You’re just saying that to scare me. You wouldn’t do that.”

            “No? A sharpened pencil. Your pretty eyes. It would only take a few seconds, and you’d be in darkness forever.”

            “Please stop,” I sobbed. “You wouldn’t, you wouldn’t.”

            I felt her chuckle into my hair. “You’re right. I’m teasing. I don’t think I’d be able to go through with that. How could I do that to my puppet? I told you I would always take care of you, and that wouldn’t be in keeping with that promise, would it? Your eyes are safe, dear.”

            I shuddered with relief. Deep down I didn’t believe that, even as cruel as she could be, Evelyn was capable of that level of violent mutilation. Still, what she had done was to plant the seed of the idea in my mind, and that would always be there. The big What If?

            Evelyn wasn’t finished. “However, I bet I would have enough time to inject you with enough myotoxin to completely paralyze you for life. That, I would do. Do you believe that?”

            I couldn’t tell if she was bluffing or not. Oddly, that wasn’t anywhere near as upsetting as the thought of being blinded. After all, I was pretty close to being paralyzed already. Months of being in those braces had gotten me quite used to not moving. It was boringly familiar. But the limited movement I did have was far preferable to having none whatsoever. “Yes. I believe you.”

            “Would you get much work then, do you think? No. Even if I didn’t completely paralyze you and you remained just as you are now, do you think you’ll be able to live on your own? Think you’d be able to care of yourself? Do you?”

            “No.”

            “That’s right. You couldn’t afford to have someone to take care of you the way I do. You left yourself with no friends, your parents are dead, and you have no one in the world who would take care of you. Tell me I’m wrong.”

            I couldn’t deny it, so I didn’t say anything. The sad thing was, she was right. I couldn’t think of any one I knew who would take me in out of the goodness of their heart. There was no one out there who really liked me. I didn’t have anyone.

            “I’ll tell you what would really happen. You would end up in some state-run hospice,” she said. “Surrounded by other drooling, incontinent invalids just like you. Would you like that?”

            “No!”

            “You probably wouldn’t even have your own room. No privacy ever. And the nurses in places like that? Treating you like just another filled bed. Impersonal. Cold. Changing your diapers in view of everyone else.”

            “Stop, stop,” I pleaded.

            Ignoring me, she pressed on, her tone becoming more vehement. “And then there are the male nurses. Surely you’ve heard what some of them do, especially to a pretty woman like you who can’t defend herself. They’ll just use you as a hole, day after day, year after–”

            “Hssssss! Stooop!” I cried. I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t know if what she said was true or if she was just trying to scare me. It sounded true, and that was enough to freak me out. Besides, all she was doing was echoing some of the fears I already had.

            “But with me,” she said, her voice becoming gentle, “you don’t have to worry about all that. How you got here doesn’t really matter anymore. The damage has been done. Now you need someone to take care of you. Don’t I take good care of you? And if nothing else, you certainly get lots of attention. You’ve become the whole center of my life, you know. I’ll always take care of you, because I love you.” She hugged me tightly.

            “No.” 

            “I love you even though you’re a cripple. Even though you were a very bad person. I accept all of this about you. Where else can you get that? I know what you think of yourself. You see yourself as a ruined, drooling freak. I know. But I love you in spite of that. Who else would want you the way you are now? Only me. You need me. So, I’ll ask again: why would you want to escape now? Escape to what?”

            I was a wreck. I started crying again. Everything she had said sounded true to me; I had been her captive for too long to be able to see things completely objectively anymore. Mercifully, she had finished our ‘little talk’ and turned off the light. Judging by Evelyn’s snores, she fell asleep fairly quickly. In spite of the sleeping pills, I stayed awake for a very long time.

Chapter 20

            I laid in bed and stared at the ceiling. Different bed, different ceiling, same boredom. I was used to it. I was naked but for the purple hood and the electric dildo arrangement. I wanted some time to think and sort out everything that had happened on Christmas eve, but that was impossible to do when my own drool was triggering orgasms left and right. Evelyn was at her sister’s, doing the Christmas thing. She said she wasn’t sure she could trust me enough to leave me completely free while she was away, so I had been bound to her bed with the leather restraints. I didn’t know what she thought I could do if I was loose. Get a hold of the toilet paper in the bathroom and make a mess? I couldn’t even reach the bedroom doorknob, let alone grasp it firmly enough to turn it. Hell, I probably would have injured myself somehow just trying to get off the bed on my own. Nonetheless, she had decided to keep me restrained, so there I was, staring at the ceiling again. She had chosen to act as if the previous night’s escape attempt had never happened, so I decided to act the same way. No point in rocking the boat.

             “Ah, good, right where I left you,” Evelyn told me when she returned. “I can’t begin to tell you what a relief that is.”

            “Hssss! Turn this thing off, pleeaassssss!” I moaned.

            “In a minute. Don’t you want to know how my morning was? It was wonderful! Sarah’s ham was as good as ever. Oh, and I got some lovely gifts. Look at this sweater. Isn’t it nice? They also gave me some books and a gift certificate. Oh yes, and a bread maker.” Her brow furrowed. “I’m not sure if that’s a disparagement on my home-made bread or not. Oh, well, no matter. So how are you doing?” She reached over and turned off the machine. My pussy felt numb from over-stimulation.

            “Please untie me. My arms. They hurt.” The cramps in my shoulders were killing me. I just wasn’t used to having them stretched out for long periods, not after having them close at my sides for so long.

            “Yes, alright,” she said, unhooking the restraints. “There you go. Feel better? I’m going to take a little nap, and then I’m going to have a little fun with you.”

            “Huh?” I hated it when she used vague, disturbing implications. “What kind of fun?”

            She peeled off the spandex hood, which was half-soaked with my saliva. “Don’t be so suspicious.”

……

            After her nap, Evelyn gave me another bath, which was great. My muscles were unbelievably sore after the other day’s exertions, and the hot water helped. Once I was dried off, she paid particular attention to making up my eyes heavily but didn’t use any other makeup, which was weird.

            “What are you doing?” I asked, worried, as she laid me out on the bedroom floor and settled down beside me. She was giggling with excitement, which could not possibly bode well for me.

            “Silly thing. I want to see you in your new presents! This is as much a gift for me as it is for you.” She pulled a box to her side and brought out the mask.

            Oh, no, not the doll mask, no! I squirmed on the floor, trying unsuccessfully to back away. “Hssss!”

            “What on earth is wrong with you?” She looked at it, trying to see what was causing my reaction. “It’s just a hood. It won’t hurt at all. A little snug, perhaps, but that’s all.”

            “Don’t do this to me. Please don’t.”

            “What are you talking about?” Exasperation was creeping into her voice.

            “Hss! Don’t make me wear that. Don’t make me look like a doll. I can’t. It’s too much. Don’t make me look like a thing, I’m not a thing, I’m a person, I’m me!”

            “Aah, I see. Afraid of being… objectified?”

            “Y-yes. Yes, that.”

            “Well, I hate to tell you this, but you already are an object. You don’t have a choice, so fucking relax, already. I don’t want to hear another complaint, or I’ll punish you. Understand?”

            “Hsss!” I angled my face away from her. I didn’t want to submit, but I shut up all the same. I just had to keep telling myself it was no big deal. It’s just a stupid costume. It means nothing.

            “Good. Now hold still.” She produced the pale, peach-colored bodysuit and unzipped it. It took her quite a while to get me into the garment. Easier said than done. I kept getting rolled back and forth as Evelyn worked it up my body. She continued to chatter away while getting me dressed. “I hadn’t intended to do this in the beginning. It’s just that the more I got to know you, and seeing you braced all the time, this just seemed the perfect thing to do. Don’t you agree?”

            Yeah, whatever. Just get this over with. The suit was matt and a lot thicker and tighter than the regular spandex I was used to. It wasn’t tight enough to start cutting off circulation, but it was still tight. It hugged every inch of me like a compression garment. It was made small around the waist so that it hugged the contour of my corseted belly. The chest had built-in, padded bra cups that shaped my breasts into artificially perky, conical mounds. The gloves had fingers, but I found they were all sewed together, so that even if I could work my fingers, their movement would have been very limited. Seemed like overkill, to me. There was a zipper in the suit’s crotch, currently closed.

            Crap. That was my reaction when she sat me up to zip the back and I got a good look at myself. The unnaturally flesh toned material was smooth and hid away all bodily flaws and imperfections. The exaggeratedly heavy stitching made me look sewn together. I looked like a stuffed rag doll. Oh… crap.

            “This looks terrific! I’m so glad it fits.” She spent some time touching and squeezing me. When she squeezed my breasts, the foam padding bounced right back into shape. I rolled my eyes and tried to disengage my mind. After getting her tactile fill, she unzipped the crotch and inserted a fresh catheter. Then she picked up the mask. “I don’t want you getting the inside of the mask all messy, so remember to try to spit through the opening between the lips when you need to. I made sure to get one with an opening, just for that purpose.”

            “Great,” I said dully. At least I would get a reprieve from having a perpetually damp chin.

            She tilted my head to face her and placed the mask over my face. I squirmed in distress as she pulled the tight hood over the crown of my head and down to my neck. The mask was held firmly, but not painfully, against my face. The edges of the eyeholes were smooth and didn’t dig in, but I still didn’t like the sensation of something pressing in so close to my eyes. The mask part went up high, beyond my normal hairline, and curved down beneath my chin, preventing me from opening my mouth much at all. It muffled my whisper-quite voice even more. The face was molded well, so my nose and lips weren’t squished too much. Thank god I wasn’t claustrophobic.

            Evelyn, her eyes sparkling like a kid’s on, well, Christmas, was biting one of her knuckles while studying me. “You’re perfect, oh, you’re just… perfect.” She bent over and stared at my face, then kissed me on the mask’s cold, red lips.

            Are you nuts? I asked her silently. I can’t even feel that! What’s so exciting about a stupid doll mask? God, you are such a psycho!

            “Alright,” she said, sitting up and smoothing her hair out of her face. “Plenty of time for that later. Let’s get you dressed. Can’t have you lying here naked, can we?”

            “I’m not naked.”

            “What? I’m sorry, I can barely hear you. You’re not naked, you say? Well, of course you are,” she said as she pulled a dress out of a garment bag. “You’re just a naked dolly.”

            I winced and hissed. She ignored me and set about to putting the dress on me. More rolling me back and forth. The dress turned out to be some cross between a Victorian gown and a little girl dress with satin and lace everywhere. It was kind of pretty, really, but I still felt like an idiot. It was humiliating just to wear it. It was definitely not a dress I could imagine anyone actually wearing in public; the thing was just too feminine. Even as a little child, I had never worn a dress so flamboyantly girly. However, it was exactly the kind of dress a doll might wear. Evelyn put satin ballet slippers–the only footwear that would fit me anymore–on my feet while I threw a feeble tantrum.

            “Aw, there, there,” soothed Evelyn, all amused. “You look precious. You have no idea. It’s nothing to be upset about.”

            “Stop treating me like a baby! I’m a grown woman!”

            “Correction. You were a grown woman. Now you’re whatever I want you to be, puppet.” She patted my cheek, though I couldn’t feel her touch, then opened a plastic bag. “One last thing.”

            “What’s that? What is it? Hsss! Not a wig! I don’t need a wig!”

            “Of course you do. You look bald, and that won’t do.” She lifted me up and fit the curly, brown monstrosity onto my head. It was fixed in place with pins through the hood. She teased it and fluffed it until she was satisfied. “Oh, lord, you’re a vision. You’re a dream come true.” She kissed me again.

            “Hsss!”

            “I just want to admire you for a while,” Evelyn said. She piled some throw pillows against the wall, then lifted me and leaned me against them so that I was in a sitting position. “So cute! Do you want to see yourself?”

            “No!”

            “Of course you do.”

            I glared at her back as she dragged the big, oval, cheval mirror out of the corner and positioned it across from me. I shut my eyes before she tilted the mirror down. “I don’t want to see. Take it away.”

            I heard her sit on the edge of the bed. “Go on. Look at your pretty self.”

            “Hss!”

            “Do it or I’ll kick you.”

            I made an inarticulate growl. I forced my eyes open and found myself in the mirror. Seeing my reflection was like a physical blow. There was nothing of myself in the mirror. I was staring at a life-sized doll. A soft-cloth mannequin. It wasn’t human, and sure as hell wasn’t me. On the floor sat a figure propped casually against the wall and pillows like a toy on a shelf. Its splayed, straightened legs with arched feet thrust out before it, its arms hung limp at its sides. The wig was full and curly, yet synthetic and far too shiny to be mistaken for natural hair. The pretty costume dress only served to make the thing look more doll-like. And the face… the face. Porcelain white, inhumanly feminine, and utterly void of expression. The only sign of humanity was the wide, frightened eyes gazing from behind the mask.

            I reached up to try to touch my face, but the sight of the doll-thing moving in the mirror just freaked me out even more. Seeing myself like that was devastating to me in some inexplicable way.

            No! That’s not me! That won’t be me! I won’t, I won’t, I WON’T!

            I felt like I was having a total break with reality. I recoiled as violently as my body would allow, scream-hissing nonstop. I felt myself blacking out...

……

            When I came to, I found I had been moved to the bed. Evelyn was hovering over me. I spoke my first thought aloud. “You drugged me again.”

            “I most certainly did not,” Evelyn protested. “You passed out. You had me worried for a second.”

            I then realized from the pressure on my face I was still wearing the mask. I tried to claw it off. All I could do was paw at its smooth surface. I could get my long, gloved nails under the edge of the mask, where it was adhered to the lycra hood, but I lacked both the strength and the coordination to budge it. Although I had never been claustrophobic before, the insistent hug of that mask on my face was pushing me over the border into a panic attack. “Hsssss!”

            “What’s gotten into you?” Evelyn took my shoulders and held me still. “Stop making that noise and talk to me.”

            “Hssss! No! Hssss! Get this off me, please, it’s not me!”

            Evelyn looked me up and down with a mix of incredulity and amusement. “It’s just a simple costume. And I know it doesn’t hurt.”

            “Take it off now!” I reached up to try to claw at her face, but she brushed off my hands with an irritated toss of her head.

            “Knock it off!” she told me and smacked me on the side of the head. She then got a funny look on her face and snickered to herself. “I always wanted to do that to some of my patients.”

            I struggled weakly and tried to fight her, but it was pointless. With one hand planted on my chest, she very securely pinned me against the bed like a butterfly mounted on a board. “Shut up and listen. I’m not taking it off until I want to, so you’re just going to have to deal with it. You have already tried to spoil my holiday once. You are not going to do it again. What you are going to do is relax, let me have my way, and pretend to enjoy yourself for just one day. Understand?” She eased up on my chest, then gave me a sly smile. “You can still wear that mask with the braces on, you know.”

            I hissed again, but weakly. Of course she would get her way. She always got her way. I breathed deeply and forced myself to smother the panic-inducing claustrophobia before it could grip me again. I knew that if I wasn’t able to control myself, Evelyn would be more than willing to start imposing her own brand of control. I was marginally successful. I really do feel however she tells me to feel, just like she said, I mused darkly. Crap.

            “Are we calmer now? Are we done throwing a hissy fit?”

            “Yes,” I mumbled behind the mask.

            “What’s that? I didn’t hear you.”

            Goddammit! “Yes!”

            “That’s good to know,” she said, scooping me into her arms and carrying me downstairs like the rag doll I now resembled.

……

            Somehow, I made it through the rest of Christmas without completely losing it again. I spent most of the day on sofa, snuggled unhappily against Evelyn as she ate her cookies and watched holiday shows on tv. My head would bonelessly flop over onto her shoulder, as if I was her affectionate lover, or something. Yuck. I strove to put my appearance out of my mind. I was, for the moment, unbraced and somewhat free, and that was nothing to scoff at. Since I was wearing the mask, at least Evelyn couldn’t amuse herself by making me crawl around after floor-cookies, either. I was too sore all over to have been able to do any crawling, anyway.

            For the first time in ages, with the mask pressed to my lips, I was able to feel as if I wasn’t drooling on myself. To my disconcertion, I realized I was slightly annoyed by not being able to just let the spit bubble freely out of my mouth. I was getting used to not having any control over it, so having to remember to let if flow through the shiny doll lips was something of a mental effort. God, would I ever have thought I would get so used to having no control that having to exert any was enough make me feel uncomfortable?

            The cheerful, happy-ending normalcy of the Christmas movies was a stark contrast to my life. Even if I was ever able to get free, would there ever be a happy ending for me? I thought about the things Evelyn had told me, about me ending up in some hospice somewhere. Talk about putting a damper on one’s holiday cheer. Yeah, I was having a holly, jolly Christmas, alright. Ha!

            Evelyn got a little tipsy from brandy later in the evening and turned maudlin. She kept telling me how pretty I was, how cute I was, how scrumptiously, deliciously adorable I was. One nice thing about the mask was that I couldn’t feel her kisses on my cheeks and lips. I just stared straight ahead while she hugged and fondled me, trying to zone out. I was getting pretty good at that. The problem was, part of me really did like hearing the compliments she paid me. It was nice to hear that I was pretty, despite the source. I had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t really me she was addressing, but the image of what I resembled: a helpless doll-thing that could neither resist her nor exist without her.

            Evelyn wasn’t satisfied with her simple, one-sided necking. With a mischievous grin, she poured a generous helping of brandy into my feeding bag. Watching her do it made me feel more helpless than when she was groping me. I didn’t want to be drunk, but she wanted me to be and I couldn’t prevent it. The alcohol inevitably began to drip down my tube and started to warm my belly. In my old life, I probably drank a little more than I should have. I wasn’t a lush, certainly, but some wine in the evening was just about the only way I was able to relax after work. Since then, of course, I hadn’t a drop, and it went straight to my head. After a while, as I grew increasingly inebriated, I sighed, leaned into her, and went limp. More limp than usual, anyway.

            “Feeling a little more relaxed?” Evelyn asked. She took me upstairs, humming some Christmas carol to herself, and put me in bed. I was afraid she was going to try something, or make me do something. Mercifully, she didn’t. She just kept on kissing and hugging me. I think she might have been masturbating next to me, but I wasn’t sure. Either way, I was too out of it to care much. I nodded off and, thanks to the brandy, slept pretty soundly through most of the night.

Chapter 21

            “You’re working today?” I said, watching her get herself ready for the office as I laid in bed. She bustled about: doing makeup, getting dressed, taming her hair with a curling iron. I realized I had never actually seen her get ready for work before. She always did that downstairs and I was always in the attic. It made me envious. I remembered when I used to be able to do all that stuff in the mornings. I used to think of it as a time-consuming chore. But something is only a chore until you realize you won’t ever be able to do it again.

            “Neuroses wait for no man,” she said, then swore under her breath and sucked her finger where she had just touched the hot part of the iron. I used to do that, too.

            “It just doesn’t seem like you to go to work the day after Christmas. Even I had a longer break around Christmas.” Of course, that was just because nobody else at the office was willing to work then.

            “Are you kidding? It’s practically my busiest season. People stress themselves out so much this time of year. It’s all worry, worry, worry: about money, relations, putting on a good facade, and ‘Oh, no! The turkey won’t be ready on time! Life is over!’, etcetera, etcetera. People just cannot seem to relax and enjoy a thing for what it is. Sound familiar?” She directed a pointed glance at me. “For the next couple of weeks I’ll get my ear talked off about horrible in-laws, mostly. Jealous?”

            “Better you than me.” I was only half-listening to her. What I was thinking about was the prospect of actually being left alone, unbraced, all day. To my surprise, the idea was a little frightening. It’s just that I felt so vulnerable and helpless in my weakened state that not having somebody nearby to help me was scary. I was even more helpless while utterly immobile in the braces, but at least then I felt I had some kind of protection, in a way. The braces could be, in a way, a kind of emotional armor. Without them, I felt as exposed and vulnerable as a snail without its shell. I watched her daily preparations for another minute, then asked, “Are you going to tie me up?”

            “Do you want me to? No, I have a more relaxing day planned for you. Speaking of which, I better get you ready before I make myself late. No time for dilly-dally.” With that, she pulled me over to the center of the bed and sat me up against the pillows. From a hardware store shopping bag she produced a length of heavy chain and some locks. She wrapped it around my waist, locked it, then locked the other end down at the bottom of the headboard. She unzipped the bodysuit crotch and plugged wires into the butt plug.

            I noticed, with dread, that it wasn’t the pleasurable, electrostim unit she was using, but rather the one used for shocking me into silence. I hadn’t had to feel that horrible device for a long time; not since the throat thing had stolen my ability to make any loud sounds at all. “Hsss! What’s that for? You don’t need that. I’ll be quiet!”

            “Oh, would you relax? Good heavens, you act as if I had tortured you with it, or something.”

            “Hssss! You have!”

            She looked up at me with a disquieting smile. “I know,” she said. “But not today. I’m not setting it very high at all. It’s little more than a precaution, really. A reminder.” She produced four satin bows attached to what looked like ruffled, elastic garters. They had wires hanging from each of them. She turned one inside out for me to see a little vial full of silver fluid that was hidden by the bow. “See here? I put these together the other week, just for this sort of occasion. It’s a little mercury switch. Do you know what that is? Well, it means that once these are connected, moving too much will cause the mercury to complete the circuit and trigger a shock. The bows and garters are just window dressing.” She worked them over my boots and gloves, one for each limb. They went around my upper thighs and upper arms, blending in to look like just another part of the ultra-frilly outfit, except for the electrical wires.

            “Why?”

            “Well, I can’t have traipsing all about while I’m away, now can we?” she said. As if I could traipse. If only I could traipse. She reattached the glossy, synthetic wig and arranged my dress. It was a little mussed from sleeping in it. “Are you comfy?”
            “No.”

            “Alright, let’s see if this works.” She took my wrist and lifted it above my head. Before my arm had barely even moved a few inches, the switch was triggered and I got shocked.

            “Hsss! Hurts!” I writhed on the bed. A ‘reminder,’ she called it? No fucking way was that a little reminder! “Lemme-go-huuurts!” I tugged at my arm, but there was no escaping her grip.

            She was grinning. “Hmm. I can’t tell. Do you think it’s working?”

            “Hssssss!”

            “Alright, alright,” she said, releasing my wrist. The shocks stopped once my arm was again limp at my side. “I just can’t resist teasing you sometimes. It’s so easy.”

            “Evil, twisted sow,” I muttered inaudibly.

            “What was that?”

            “You...!” I began, then cut myself off. Discretion being the better part of valor, or something.

            “Uh huh.” She set the device in the topmost dresser drawer and closed it shut on the wires. “I’m well aware that, since you’re unrestrained in any other way, you could possibly remove your pretty bows, or unhook the wires somehow. If you do, however, it’s back into the braces you go. I might even have to beat you again. The choice is yours. This should prove to be an interesting experiment of willpower, I should think. Reminds me of my lab-rat days at college.”

            Great. I had to participate in my own bondage. I glared at her as she arranged the standing mirror across from the foot of the bed so that I could have a clear, unobstructed view of myself.

            She glanced at her watch. “Better get you fixed up,” she said, rushing out to get a feeding/water bag. She kept them in refrigerator. She returned, connected the tube to my nose, and gave me a kiss on the mask’s pristine white forehead. “Oops. Lipstick.” She rubbed at my forehead with a tissue. “All set? I’m off. You be good.”

            A minute later I heard the front door closing, accompanied by the meows of Jinx, and I was left alone with my reflection. I sat. I quickly learned the best way to avoid a shock was to simply be as still as possible. By moving carefully and slowly, I was able to adjust my position slightly. Those damn mercury switches were sensitive. I had to admit that it was a pretty clever way of making me stay put. In some ways, it was worse than being braces. With the braces on, I simply couldn’t move. Now, I was free to move, but I couldn’t allow myself to.

            Naturally, I started taking stock of my situation and trying to think of ways to take advantage of it. That shocking device was nearby, though not within reach. I supposed, if I dared to endure the pain, I could work the garters and bows off… no, probably not with the corset restricting my movement. I’d have a heck of a fun time trying to contort myself enough to get them off my legs. Even if I did, the switches didn’t have to be on my body to trigger a shock. Just taking them off and leaving them lying there, in the wrong position, would be enough to do that.

            Okay, so taking them off was probably a no-go. I might be able to wrap one of the wires around my hand and yank them out of the main device. I would have done it, too, if not for the threat that I would go straight back into the braces. I wouldn’t have a way to get the wires back into the device in the dresser if I yanked them out. Evelyn would find out. It was a one-shot chance, and if I did something worth risking that, I’d have to make it worth the consequences. I could only bide my time until the opportunity came. I uttered a whine of frustration inside the mask. Sure, I’ll lull her into making a mistake by doing exactly what she wants… month after month after month. Who am I trying to kid? My whole life had been reduced to sitting and waiting for the next event, and those events were all dependent on Evelyn.

            So I sat and stared at my dollified self in the mirror: the perfect, cold features, the lovely, artificial hair, the hyper-feminine dress, the strange, almost-skin-toned bodysuit. Long before, if I had been dressed in a costume like the one I was wearing, I would simply have felt foolish and embarrassed to be seen by anyone. Now, after everything I had been through, it was entirely different. My appearance didn’t feel foolish; it felt obscene. It was like I was losing my whole identity. My life, independence, and strength had been taken from me. What did I have left but my self-identity? Being made to look like that thing in the mirror just made my hold on that all the more precarious. I couldn’t see any of myself other than my eyes. I was disappearing. The Katherine Quinten I knew myself as was being replaced, more and more, with Evelyn’s plaything. It was made worse by the extreme femininity of the mask and dress, both seeming to mock my self-perceived loss of womanhood as I was turned into a drooling beast. The mask was beautiful, if inhuman, and I knew I could now only dream of achieving that kind of beauty in reality now that my body was ruined. It was a glossy veneer over the real truth. The ugly truth.

            I realized that I could all too easily lose myself in the illusion of being a thing, a doll, in place of the horrible reality of being a living, human being enduring the things I had gone through. A toy doll didn’t need to worry about being held against its will. It didn’t care that it was just a thing to be acted upon, never interacting. I had an irrational terror that my mind would retreat and shut off completely, leaving only a living shell behind. Was that what Evelyn wanted me to be? God, I hoped not. I didn’t want that. In the mirror, tears trickled down my porcelain, perfectly-formed cheeks.

            Dolls cry, too. Who would have thought?

……

            The first thing Evelyn did when she got home was come up to check on me. I was in the exact same place she had left me. She broke into a huge grin, sat down on the bed and reached for me. I screamed in pain and surprise as the plug unexpectedly shocked me. Evelyn’s jostling of the mattress had set off the mercury switches. “What?” Evelyn asked, startled. She then looked chagrined. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, honey. I… really didn’t mean to do that. Just a sec.” She opened the dresser drawer and pushed a button on the device. “There you go. You’re disarmed.”

            I rolled my eyes and groaned. I had managed to avoid shocking myself for several hours, only to have Evelyn do it by accident. I had actually been a little happy to see her, even if only because her coming home might mean I could move again. Getting shocked spoiled all that.

            “Anyway,” said Evelyn, getting back on the bed, “how was your day?”

            “Guess.” Much of my morning had been dedicated to forcing myself to stay still. It wasn’t as hard as it would have been months ago. My body was so used to being still, it was hardly even uncomfortable. I wasn’t even cramped after sitting in place all day. Hooray for me. The hard part was simply resisting the urge to move around. Between bouts of existential dread as I stared in the mirror, I used my newfound talent of blanking out to make the day pass more quickly. When I did that, however, I wasn’t ‘there’ enough to remember to carefully let my saliva drip out of the mask’s mouth slit. The inside of the mask around my mouth and the front of the bodysuit’s neck was damp.

            “Why is your neck wet? Were you drooling inside the mask?”

            Can’t slip anything by you, can I? I thought with irritation. “I missed.”

            “Odd. Try to do better. So, did anything exciting happen today?”

            “Let me see. Hmmm. No.”

            “Good,” she said.

            “Oh, wait. I thought I heard a car crash somewhere down the street.”

            “Really? That would explain the broken plastic in the street. Good ears. Maybe too good,” she added vaguely.

            “Are you done teasing me?”

            “Never,” she said amiably.

            “Great, then can you at least get…” I began, than took a breath. “Would you please take this thing off, please?”

            “Looks like I’ll have to, seeing as how you’ve soaked the inside of it. I’ll have to let the padding dry.” She sighed and peeled the spandex hood and mask from my face. It felt so good to get that thing off. Evelyn prodded the inside of the mask and looked displeased.

            Don’t you say a damn thing, I thought at her. You’re the one who made me have to drool in the first place.

            She didn’t, though. She simply turned the hood inside out and placed it on the bedside table to dry. “I’m going to be sore in the morning,” she said. “Today is the first time I’ve worked out in about a week. Mustn’t let myself get out of the habit, though. You’re free to do what you want for now. I need to get some paperwork done before I start supper.” She unzipped me, pulled the dress off over my head, and strapped the catheter bag to my thigh. My face was wiped dry. She sure had gotten efficient at taking care of me. I squirmed weakly and blew a spit bubble as she pulled me into a hug. She left me lying on my side.

            I continued to stare at my reflection, sideways, in the mirror for a few minutes after she left. Finally, I could see my own haunted face again. It was still there. I was still human. I rolled onto my front and pulled myself to the edge of the bed. The floor looked like a long way down for someone in my condition. How pathetic. “Hss! Hsssss!”

            “Is that you?” Evelyn called from the hallway. She looked into the bedroom. “Was that you?”

            “Hss!” I said again, pointing at the floor.

            “Oh, I see. Alright.” She picked me up at the waist and set me on the carpet. “There you go,” she said, and left again.

            I pulled myself around on the floor for a while, getting the circulation flowing back into my wasted muscles. I was still wearing the bodysuit, which made crawling around a little different–less friction also meant less traction. The general thickness of the stretchy material resisted my efforts to move freely. The foam padding around my breasts made crawling on the floor a little less uncomfortable, though. The carpet rubbing against my face actually felt good after wearing that mask all day. I thought that it also felt pretty good to be able to salivate freely without having to worry about getting the inside of my mask wet.

            I froze. Oh my god, oh my god, did I just think that? That it’s good to salivate freely? I did not just think that! “Hssss!”

            After several laps around the bedroom, I made my way into the hallway. I paused at the stairs and looked down. I could hear Jinx batting something around down there. I guessed, if I had to, I might be able to make it down the steps. It would be painful, but I could probably do it. My experience on the porch steps was still fresh in my mind, but carpeted stairs were a lot easier to cope with than sharp-edged cement. I passed the stairs and headed to an open door farther down the hall. I had never seen inside that room, before. I stopped at the doorway to catch my breath.

            Inside was Evelyn’s little home office. There were a lot of shelves on the walls, all crammed full of books, boxes, and paperwork. Evelyn was sitting at a desk, facing away from the doorway. Her wide rear end was visible on both sides of the computer chair. She was working on some spreadsheet on a laptop. There was an old REM song playing softly on the radio. I went further into the room. That’s when I spotted the phone setting on the corner of the desk. I had almost missed it, it being such a commonplace item. It was the large rotary phone that Evelyn had taken out of the bedroom. Its cord was even hanging down within reach, if I chose to make an effort. Aha. So that’s where you put it.

            Evelyn turned in her chair. “Why, hello. Did you come to visit me?”

            “Uh.” I didn’t want her to catch me eyeballing the telephone. I pulled myself over to the chair.

            “Trying to get back in my good graces?” she asked.

            “Er.” Think of something. “I was wondering… would you read to me tonight? I’m really bored.”

            “Would you like that? I suppose I could do that. Here.” She folded up a paper towel and placed it under my head, then offered me a mint candy from the desk drawer. I strained to reach it and pluck it from her fingers. “There you go.”

            I sucked on the mint for a while, not really able to taste much the sweetness of it, mostly only the mintiness, letting the sugary, pink saliva soak into the paper towel under my cheek. At least now I knew where I could get to a phone. Now to figure out how get to it when Evelyn wasn’t around. I finished the mint and started to turn myself around to face the door, but Evelyn placed her foot on my back, immobilizing me.

            “Just a minute,” she said, and continued to type away on whatever she was working on. After five minutes or so, I started to wriggle under foot. She looked down at me. “What’s the matter? In a rush to get somewhere?”

            “I’m busy, lady, I’ve got things to do. Daylight’s wasting.”

            Evelyn chuckled. “Right. Look at me,” she said. She took a wet nap from a desk drawer and wiped the sticky stuff from my face. “Go for it.”

            I turned around and made my way back into the bedroom, where I stopped and reflected. There I was, plotting another escape. I hadn’t forgotten the events of the other day: my failed escape, my pathetic groveling, Evelyn’s little talk. That damn talk. The terrible things she said.

            And really, what did I hope to achieve by plotting to escape? What did I hope to accomplish? I was afraid if this kept up for much longer, maybe for as little as another month or two, I would give up all serious thoughts of escape. I could feel any resolve I once had getting weaker by the day. But what the hell were my options? I didn’t want to stay, but my alternatives weren’t so cheery, either. It was a choice between being helpless and in a hospital bed for life, or being helpless and drooling mints by Evelyn’s feet. And was the latter really so bad, by comparison? I hated hospitals. At least with Evelyn I would be taken care of, and even get attention…

            Stop it! I scolded myself. Stop thinking like that. If I keep thinking like that, I’ll never do anything. After she’s gone to jail, then I’ll worry about what happens next.

            Go to jail for what? You deserve to be here. You’re better off here, where no one can hurt you and where you can’t hurt anyone else.

            No! I can’t let her beat me. If I can beat her, I’ll be happy.

            What do you think this is, a competition? It was your competitiveness that got you in this fix to begin with. Besides, you won’t ever be happy if you somehow beat her. Who would take care of you then? Who would care about you then?

            “Shut up!” Bubbles of spit ran down my chin. “Oh, my god, I’m completely losing it,” I whimpered. I pressed my hands to my temples and buried my face into the dark, safe carpet.

            A little while later, after I had cried myself out, or thought I had, Evelyn passed by on her way downstairs. She stopped to eye me quizzically and asked if I had been crying. I shook my head and she hesitantly left me alone. I pushed myself onto my back, just for a change of perspective. It was hard having the point-of-view of a housecat all the time. I gazed up at the ceiling and open door, then gasped. What the hell is that?

            On the outside of the bedroom door, up near the top, was a sliding bolt. It could be used to lock the door from the outside. I blinked, comprehension coming slowly. If I had my former strength and was able to stand, I might have been able to batter the door until I tore the bolt’s screws loose, but I sure as hell couldn’t do that now. I rolled back over and crawled back into the hallway. Tilting myself onto my side, I could see a matching bolt on the outside of the office door, and it was currently shut, bolted, and impossibly out-of-reach. Kathy-proofed.

            I started to laugh bitterly, hysterically. What a fine trick that would have been if I had tried to escape. Even if I was able to get free of the shocking device, even if I should magically escape the chain around my waist, and even if made it to the door and was somehow able to reach the knob, I would only have found that the door locked from outside. I would then have had to wait there, in dread, for Evelyn to come home and catch me loose.

            “It’s not fair. It’s not fair! Hsssss!” I cried, feeling fresh tears well up in my eyes. Why could I never get a break?

Chapter 22

            For the next week or two I continued to be passive, if not altogether agreeable. I could lie and say that I was deliberately lulling her into a false sense of security while waiting to make my move, but that was just wishful thinking in the back of my mind. The truth was that there was nothing else I could do. Perhaps I was becoming used to living the way I was; the same as I had pretty much gotten used to the braces or the corset’s constant embrace, the same way I was getting used to sexually servicing Evelyn on a regular basis. I didn’t want to get used to any of that; getting used to any little bit of it, accepting Evelyn’s insanity as normalcy, seemed to be like surrendering more and more ground in a war of attrition that I was steadily losing. Like it or not, it was happening, all the same.

            My days were just as boring as they had ever been, now compounded with the challenge of self-restraint. One of the hardest parts was when I suddenly got an itch and had to resist every impulse to scratch it. Eventually, I learned to turn tune little annoyances like that out until they disappeared. And then there was the doll-faced reflection in the mirror. Christ, I was even getting used to that, too. Since the only time I got a look at myself in the mirror now was when I was wearing that mask, I was starting to anticipate seeing it, as if that was how I really looked all the time. The evenings had me either being played with by Evelyn or with me being beneficently ignored by her as she went about her daily, mundane domesticity.

            I received both a new corset and a new dress in that time. The dress was hot pink and made me look like some Candyland, Barbie nightmare. The new corset looked the same as the old, except that the waist and hips formed an even more pronounced hourglass shape and it was more heavily boned. I hissed and moaned as I was laced into it, not realizing until just then how much I had grown accustomed to the old corset’s shape. The old one felt loose compared to the new one, which crushed my waist and ribs and reminded me of how the first one felt when it was put on me. It seemed as if years had passed since then.

            I thought I might be getting some of my strength back. Not enough, but some. I stopped being so sore, so I ceased to feel as if I had been a punching bag in the mornings. My neck was getting able to support my head a little so that it wasn’t always flopping around like a dashboard bobble-head. I was able to get around a little faster and without stopping for so many breathers. I still wasn’t strong enough to get up and crawl around on my hands and knees, so I seemed to be stuck on my belly for good. I was afraid that that was as strong as I would ever be. And I still couldn’t budge my feet an inch out of their pointed position.

            One evening, some time after New Year’s, I was laying on my side in bed, facing the curio cabinet full of dolls. I had just gone down on Evelyn and had an orgasm, myself, thanks to Ole Sparky the goddamn, fucking irresistible, electrostim device. She was lying on her side of the bed, reading some shrink peer journal. I was huddled under the sheet, facing away from her. She had a CD playing on her little stereo which I found sounded rather melodic and soothing, but also forlorn. I seemed to be paying a lot more attention to music and its nuances than I ever had in the past. I guess endless boredom will teach you to appreciate just about any tiny pleasure. “The music’s pretty. What is it?” I asked.

            “Hmm? It’s Enya.”

            “But I hate Enya,” I said.

            She was distracted by her reading and wasn’t giving me her full attention. “I suppose your tastes have changed, then, haven’t they?” she remarked.

            That didn’t make sense. How would someone’s tastes change without them knowing about it? “I always hated music like this. Always thought it was too slow.”

            “Well, now you’re slow, too, so I’d say it fits.”

            Oh, that’s nice. Now I’m slow. Then I realized maybe she wasn’t talking about my mind, just my rate of movement. That would be less insulting. She didn’t say anything else, so I just listened to the music.

            I got started thinking of things I was no longer able to do. Thinking about those things was physically painful, like a prickly ball twisting inside my belly. It was like some kind of masochistic self-torment, but I couldn’t stop myself once I got started. Maybe it was natural. Maybe my mind decided to face up to cold truths, mourn for my losses, then put them aside. That didn’t occur to me at the time, though. All I could do was pity myself.

            I’d never get a promotion, or feel the satisfaction of a job done well. I couldn’t go to the beach. I couldn’t drink coffee. No more eating in nice restaurants. No more dating. Not even flirting. There would be no trips to the malls to hunt for the new styles. Hell, I wouldn’t even be wearing anything that Evelyn didn’t pick out and help me put on. Forget shoes. Shoes could no longer fit on my deformed feet, much less actually be of use to me for anything. It dawned on me that I was truly no capable of walking. I had known it, of course, but I guess I had been denying it on some level, and it struck me particularly hard.

            I’m never going to walk again. Whatever happens, whether I escape or stay here, either way, I’ll never be able to walk. Not ever. Not one step. For the rest of my life. Overwhelmed, I started to cry heavily, which came out as a series of short hisses. “Hssss-ss-ss-ss… hsss-ss-ss-ss-ss…”

            Evelyn touched my shoulder. “Are you crying? What’s the matter?”

            “I wont hsss! ever be able hsss!… I won’t ever walk again. Hssss-ss-ss!”

            “Aww, I know, puppet. Come here.”

            She took me in her arms, and squeezed me tightly as I cried against her, and, god help me, it felt good. I was frightened, weak, and helpless. She was strong, and it was sanctuary to be held like that. The feel of her strong muscles under her soft skin was nice. Comforting. She was, well, everything. I did need her. She kept holding me and stroking my back until my tears stopped.

            I had a brief fantasy of pretending that she wasn’t the one who put me in this position to begin with; that I was already crippled when she found me and wanted my company in spite of it. And all the ‘slave’ stuff was just a game we played. Nothing serious. It was a seductive fantasy–one that would allow me to overlook the fact that I was in the embrace of a cruel monster who had kidnapped me. It would allow me to ignore the horrible guilt that, right then, I was actually enjoying the embrace.

            I have to get out of here. I have to get away, I thought, with my face pressed into her bosom. If it doesn’t happen soon, I don’t know what’ll happen to me. If I don’t get away soon, I won’t want to leave.

Chapter 23

            The next day started just like all the others, with me chained to the bed with nothing to do but look at my reflection for eight or nine hours. I wasn’t there most of the time, though. Most of the time my head was off in that nowhere place I went to. I found that it was kind of soothing, really. Anyway, I didn’t speak when Evelyn came home. I was still in a funk, leftover from the morbid thoughts I had last night. She went to file some papers in her office before coming in to release me. “Not talking to me?” she asked as she unlocked the chain around my waist.

            “Nothing to say.”

            “All right, then.” She removed the mask and hood from my head. “Wait ‘til I tell you about the man who was sent to me today. Apparently, he swallows fifty cents worth of dimes every single day–oh, and gold shavings, too–on the belief that it will help him transform into a giant mechanical bird and he’ll fly away. It’s kind of poignant when you think about it. Sad. I’ll have to recommend him to the state hospital, just to make sure his belly isn’t full of loose change. Schizophrenics aren’t really my field… did you just hear something?”

            “Huh?”

            Evelyn went to the window and parted the curtains. “Oh, I do not believe it. That damn dog again!” She opened the window and leaned out, shouting, “Shoo! Get away from there! Go home!”

            “Dog?”

            “It’s digging up my bulbs!” she cried. She slammed the window shut and headed for the door.

            “Why don’t you just put it in braces?” I mumbled.

            “What? Very funny. Jim is going to get a piece of my mind,” she muttered as she stalked out of the room. I heard her going down the stairs and slamming the front door.

            I was stuck sitting there, since she hadn’t gotten around to turning off the shocking thing. Listening to her shouting at the dog beneath the bedroom window, I had to chuckle at the mental image: The Wicked Bitch and her arch-nemesis, The Dog from Down the Street. How fucking bizarre. I made my head roll back onto the pillows and looked around the room. I heard Jinx batting some paper around in another room. I had an inkling of something being not right about that, something important, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. A crumpled ball of paper, evidently teased out of a wastebasket, went tumbling by the bedroom door with Jinx in hot pursuit. He must have gotten it from the office.

            Which meant the office door was open.

            And there was a phone in there. I was unbound. Evelyn was gone.

            Don’t even think about it! Remember what happened last time? You got off easy, and you know it.

            It’s right there. The phone is right in there! All I have to do is get to it.

            She’ll catch you! Even if you get to the phone, she will be back long before any police get here.

            And of course I knew what that would mean. Her recent threats rang in my ears. She would have plenty of time to execute her plan of injecting enough of that poison in me to paralyze me for life. She might even put out my eyes. She said she wouldn’t, but who knew what she would really do if she was angry enough at me, and the cops were right outside, and she had nothing else to lose? But still, there was a chance. Wasn’t there? I also knew that if I failed, I wouldn’t get another chance, not with the phones. But I have to make her pay.

            So she pays, and you end up in a hospital bed. Is it worth it? Just stay put. Maybe even tell her what you were planning, like you should have done last time. She might be so pleased that she’d do something really nice, right? She might take out this gag thing, or at least stop making you wear the mask so much.

            The idea sounded reasonable. I just don’t know!

            Just let her take care of you. You’re getting used to it. It’s not all bad. Not all of the time. Besides, she loves you. She said so.

            It was that thought that spurred me into action. I didn’t want to be loved by her. I never asked her to love me. I didn’t need to be loved by anyone, but especially not from her! I couldn’t allow myself to forget that she was the one who did all of this to me. She stole my life, crippled me, humiliated me, tortured me. Even if I did deserve it (and I did, didn’t I?), it still wasn’t right. If I didn’t do something, no one would. If I didn’t, that would mean she got away with it, and that just wouldn’t be fair!

            I rocked myself back and forth to roll myself over and off of the pillows that were supporting me. The shocks started, one every five seconds, and that was almost enough to make me want to desperately claw myself back into a sitting position to make them stop. Instead, the searing flashes of pain gave me incentive enough to scramble clumsily over to the edge of the bed. I was at the far edge, opposite the dresser that held the device. I went over sideways in order to keep from landing face-first, but I still hit the floor pretty hard. My arms simply were not strong enough to cushion the fall.

            I felt the strangely unpleasant tug in my ass and bowels as the wire leading from the inflatable plug to the device went taut, digging into the corner of the mattress. The end of the wire that attached to plug was screwed in (as I discovered painfully once while trying to pull it free at the start of my career as a dollified, bedroom decoration), so I knew it wasn’t going to just pop loose. The simple plug at the other end–the end that went into the device–would normally have been yanked free easily, except that the thickness of the plug was caught in the narrow crack of the dresser drawer. I was trapped there against the side of the bed, with my ass suspended partway off the floor by the wire, held in place by the butt plug that was shocking me the entire time.

            I was getting hysterical, wondering how I would explain myself if Evelyn came back and found me like that. I could say I sneezed really hard and blew myself out of bed! Ha ha! Owww! The shocks granted me the adrenaline to move my half-dead muscles. I pulled and pulled, like a carthorse straining to move a heavy load. Finally, the wire tore free from the drawer and whizzed through the air. The pain stopped. Pausing for only a few seconds to catch my breath, I made for the hallway. The pink nightmare doll dress kept fouling me up, and it was taking me a lot longer than it should have. My mouth was bone dry. No drooling now.

            Even as I crawled out of the bedroom and towards the open office door, the doubts started coming back with a vengeance. Was defeating Evelyn, at this point, really worth it? Was victory worth the consequences? ‘Did the overhead out-shadow the profit margin?’ as I would have used to think back in the old days when I had a career. Thinking about it was enough to make me stop in the middle of the hallway. Do you really want to do this?

            “I don’t know!” I said aloud. But I couldn’t just give up. It was too late now. I wanted to be free. Being free was the most important thing. Right? That’s what I had been taught. That’s what I wanted to believe. I ignored the turmoil in my mind, switching over to automatic. “I just can’t stop now.”

            I crawled into the office, and there was the chunky, old rotary phone, sitting on the desk. I rolled onto my side at the foot of the desk and reached for the cord. My fingers still didn’t work very well, not enough to grasp something firmly, but I was able to wrap the coiled cord around my wrist and pull. I felt the phone slide across the desk. I was crying and I didn’t know why. I told myself that I was seconds away from freedom. I pulled on the cord again and realized, as the corner of the phone appeared over the edge of the desk and began to fall, that I might have made a serious error in judgment.

            The heavy phone came tumbling down and I had just enough time to flinch away so that it struck me on the side of the head instead of right in the face. The phone’s ringer went ding! as it hit and tumbled off the side. The world went dark, then bright white, then dissolved into stars. A sudden and intense sensation of nausea struck me, but quickly faded. I lay there, stunned and hissing miserably, curling halfway into a fetal position.

            Once my head stopped throbbing so much and the world stopped whirling, I remembered where I was and why. How much time had passed since Evelyn left? When would she get back? Hissing, I groped for the phone and receiver. Just then it dawned on me that whoever answered my call might not be able to hear my breathy voice. I could hiss like crazy, but that just might make them hang up. I supposed they would be able to trace the call. I hoped they would, anyway.

            I got the phone to my ear and pushed on the cradle once, then twice, then repeatedly. There was no dial tone. Had it broken in the fall? That didn’t seem likely. I had seen phones take worse falls than that. I had even thrown my office phone against a wall once, in a fit of anger, and it had still worked fine afterwards. Looking up, I took hold of the phone line, which was still trailing up over the top of the desk, and tugged at it. A bundle of cord came down and landed, painlessly this time, on my head. It wasn’t even plugged in.

            Oh shit, oh shit, where’s the jack? I couldn’t see it. There were so many boxes of files and junk lining the walls that I might never find it in time. “Hsssss!”

            How stupid of me. Of course she wouldn’t have plugged the bedroom phone in in here. She just put it in here to get it out of the bedroom. But wait… that meant she had to have a regular office phone. I looked around and saw, from my low vantage, a gray phone line hanging down behind the desk, among the jumble of electrical cords and things. Surely it was plugged in. I crawled further under the desk and gave it a pull. There was resistance, so it had to be attached to something on top of the desk. I pulled at it again.

            “Ah. I see.”

            I hissed once in alarm, and then froze in position. I didn’t even turn to look. I just closed my eyes and let my head droop until my forehead rested on the floor. There was an awful sinking feeling and a pall of dread settled over me. The jig is up. My hand fell away from the cord.

            “Oh, Katherine,” Evelyn sighed as she stood in the doorway. “I thought you had learned something. I hoped you had. Clearly, I was wrong.”

            I frantically tried to think of an excuse about what I was doing, but I couldn’t think of a single thing. I expected to hear her burst in shouting if she caught me. What I didn’t expect was the sound of deep disappointment in her voice. That just made it worse. I actually felt guilty, and I hated it.

            “Look at me when I’m talking to you,” she said, advancing and grabbing my ankles. She pulled me out from under the desk and flipped me over. She hesitated. “What the hell did you do to your head?”

            Confused, I reached up and felt a knot at my temple where the phone hit me. My head was still pounding. “The phone fell on me,” was all I could say.

            “Fell…?” She shook her head. “Well, it serves you right. What is it with you and that dog? Do you two have a conspiracy or something? How long have you been waiting for the chance to get in here?

            “I didn’t mean to!” I said stupidly.

            “What’s that supposed to mean? And just what did you think you were going to do? Call the police?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “Don’t give me that. You knew exactly what you were doing. Were you going for the other phone? Here, let me help.” She picked up a white portable from the desk and tossed it to me. I winced, expecting it to hit me on the head, too, but it bounced harmlessly onto the carpet beside me. “Go on.”

            “Nooo.” Now the tears started.

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