[Fill] Suck it up, Cheerleader (6/?)
anonymous
October 14 2015, 17:43:56 UTC
She wasn't there to be with Jack when she woke up. Not the first time, anyway, when she would have come to groggily on a cot in a small windowless cell, undecorated except for a steel toilet. Miranda could imagine just how it must have been, just how many 'fucks' and 'shits' Jack must have let fly, how she would have hammered at the door, raised hell. Jack wouldn't have taken in the details straight away, freedom was always her first and foremost concern.
When she finally tired, she would sit back on her cot and take stock, realising that she was wearing a good deal more clothing than she was used to. The one piece garment covered their legs and arms, their backs and sides, but had gaping openings to allow access to breasts, crotch and rear. There was no way to take it off.
Jack would have been confused, and would have found her breasts tender and swollen, although not excruciatingly painful as they would become after further treatment. She might have dipped a finger in her own pussy, smelled her own finger to check her own state of arousal. Then she would probably lick it. Miranda had caught her doing that once and had been suitably disgusted, although her indifference to social niceties was one of the main reasons that she found Jack so alluring.
Then, when they came for her, she would have fought and screamed, bitten and scratched, but without her biotics and without weapons, Jack was not such a formidable foe. She could imagine her summoning her biotics, activating that reflex that came so naturally to her. And nothing would happen.
Then panic would take her, and Happy would stun her, and Junior hold her still while they strapped her into a wheelchair. Then they would bring her here, where Miranda was watching, unseen, and transfer her to the milking station, where her real ordeal would begin.
Miranda forced herself to imagine all of it. When she got out of here, whoever was in charge of this operation would submit to a detailed, lengthy accounting for every outrage. She nurtured her anger and drew strength from it.
But nothing had prepared her for the defeat in Jack's eyes as she was brought in and meekly allowed Junior to strap her into the milking station. Miranda watched her look around the room, not sure what was happening, and saw her start to hyperventilate as she lost it to a full blown panic attack. Brains was unperturbed, finding it easy enough to hookup the attachments with Jack's body immobilized.
Jack emitted a high, girlish wail and tears flooded from her eyes as she started to understand. As Brains activated the dildo, she pissed herself all over it. He muttered with disgust, stepping clear, reaching over to activate the suction and the wicked claws. Jack's wails turned into screams and she begged unashamedly for it to stop.
Miranda had seen Jack's softer side. But she'd never seen her broken. It tore her apart. Her chest heaved with despair. There was nothing she could do from this side of the glass. Brains, whether for pragmatic or vindictive reasons, threaded the catheter into Jack's urethra, causing her to catch her breath and turn red. She finally found her anger and screamed out a stream of filthy imprecations.
He gagged her with a band that had a thick plug attached that pushed out her cheeks. Then as an afterthought he lubed the enema tube and slid it into her. Only her eyes betrayed her, speaking of rage and impotence and grief. Miranda hoped that gaze was never turned on her. She would rather die.
When she finally tired, she would sit back on her cot and take stock, realising that she was wearing a good deal more clothing than she was used to. The one piece garment covered their legs and arms, their backs and sides, but had gaping openings to allow access to breasts, crotch and rear. There was no way to take it off.
Jack would have been confused, and would have found her breasts tender and swollen, although not excruciatingly painful as they would become after further treatment. She might have dipped a finger in her own pussy, smelled her own finger to check her own state of arousal. Then she would probably lick it. Miranda had caught her doing that once and had been suitably disgusted, although her indifference to social niceties was one of the main reasons that she found Jack so alluring.
Then, when they came for her, she would have fought and screamed, bitten and scratched, but without her biotics and without weapons, Jack was not such a formidable foe. She could imagine her summoning her biotics, activating that reflex that came so naturally to her. And nothing would happen.
Then panic would take her, and Happy would stun her, and Junior hold her still while they strapped her into a wheelchair. Then they would bring her here, where Miranda was watching, unseen, and transfer her to the milking station, where her real ordeal would begin.
Miranda forced herself to imagine all of it. When she got out of here, whoever was in charge of this operation would submit to a detailed, lengthy accounting for every outrage. She nurtured her anger and drew strength from it.
But nothing had prepared her for the defeat in Jack's eyes as she was brought in and meekly allowed Junior to strap her into the milking station. Miranda watched her look around the room, not sure what was happening, and saw her start to hyperventilate as she lost it to a full blown panic attack. Brains was unperturbed, finding it easy enough to hookup the attachments with Jack's body immobilized.
Jack emitted a high, girlish wail and tears flooded from her eyes as she started to understand. As Brains activated the dildo, she pissed herself all over it. He muttered with disgust, stepping clear, reaching over to activate the suction and the wicked claws. Jack's wails turned into screams and she begged unashamedly for it to stop.
Miranda had seen Jack's softer side. But she'd never seen her broken. It tore her apart. Her chest heaved with despair. There was nothing she could do from this side of the glass. Brains, whether for pragmatic or vindictive reasons, threaded the catheter into Jack's urethra, causing her to catch her breath and turn red. She finally found her anger and screamed out a stream of filthy imprecations.
He gagged her with a band that had a thick plug attached that pushed out her cheeks. Then as an afterthought he lubed the enema tube and slid it into her. Only her eyes betrayed her, speaking of rage and impotence and grief. Miranda hoped that gaze was never turned on her. She would rather die.
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