The Box, part 1 by mrhungry

The Box
by mrhungry
Part 1

The blackness was all encompassing, as was the silence. Carly could hear her own breathing, but that was all. She was used to it, and the sensation of isolation no longer affected her as it once did. She was not alone, she knew, someone was outside the box, somewhere, watching her.

The young woman lay perfectly still on the black slab of hard plastic that served as her bed. She knew that to move would provoke pain. It took only a few movements, long ago, to demonstrate the pain to her. It was like everything else she was required to do in the box: follow the precise instruction or feel the pain.

Without knowing if she had slept for ten minutes or ten hours, Carly tried to go back to sleep. Her Mistress would let her know when it was time to awaken. That she desperately needed to go to the bathroom suggested she had slept for quite some time. Time was not a relevant measure of her existence any more, though. She lived outside the boundaries of time.

Her Mistress. How could she know that it was a woman who controlled her life? Why not a man? If it were a man, why would the images that appeared on the monitors within her box be of a woman? The same woman each time. Why would she feel such comfort when seeing the beautiful face? Carly wanted to turn her head to see if her Mistress’ image was being displayed on one of the monitors, but to turn her head was to ask for punishment. She would know when movement was allowed. Besides, if a monitor were to come on, she would see the soft glow from it. Then, and only then, would she dare to turn her head.

Controlling her breathing and trying to relax as best she could, Carly managed to drift off to sleep. “The Dream” came to her again. It was not a dream she wished to have any more, having dreamt it so many times. She was not that person anymore! She didn’t want anyone to think she was that person, or to even remember her. That was someone else, someone who didn’t want to please her Mistress. But she dreamed about the other person, just the same.

She recognized herself, of course. How wild she was! How…untamed. Yes, that’s the word – untamed. And, so very naked. She had run her hands over her head and was shocked to find that her curly blond hair had been removed. Further exploration of her body confirmed that her privates were hairless, as well. That was the first of many changes that she had to come to terms with. She had later contemplated to what degree her beautiful hair had defined her identity as Carly Fletcher. But without it, wasn’t she the same person? She knew she was, yet…she didn’t feel like Carly Fletcher without her golden curls.

The confines of the box had been frightening when she had first awoken inside its smooth square walls. It was pitch black inside the box and terribly stuffy. She screamed and beat against the walls, calling out to anyone who might hear her frantic cries. Exploring her surroundings in the darkness, she estimated the box to be about fifteen feet square. She had jumped up to touch the ceiling, but had failed to reach anything overhead.

There was no door. Oh, she had searched every inch of the smooth surface and could not find a crack. Being fairly intelligent, she suspected there was a hatch or door somewhere, maybe even overhead. She sat against a wall and cried. Even in her dream, the feeling of slow suffocation pressed in against her lungs. It made no sense that someone would kill her like this; she had no enemies that she knew of. But yet, here she was, slowly running out of oxygen.

Her mind searched for an explanation for her situation and found none. The last thing she could remember was laying on the chaise lounge at poolside, sipping a Pepsi, and reading her book. It was so nice and warm, the hot sun caressing her bikini-clad body with its energy. It had grown quiet by the pool, as the family from Indiana had finally gone back to their room to cool off, and she must have drifted off to sleep.

There was no doubt that the drug had been in the Pepsi, and that she had become a statistic, another American student who had disappeared while in Mexico on spring break. The school Administrators had issued warnings against traveling out of the country, but the untamed part of her simply ignored those warnings.

And now she was going to die. Alone.

ooOoo

Breathing had become very difficult for the trapped woman. She leaned over and slumped to the floor, her naked body collapsing in the darkness, unseen by anyone. Little sparkles danced before her eyes, before they began to fade away into the blackness.

One more breath, she thought, and with that breath detected fresh air. An extremely dim glow was coming from the far wall and Carly slowly lifted herself from the smooth cold floor to crawl over towards it. Pressing her hands against the wall, she rose to see an LCD display monitor behind the surface of the wall. Were the walls made of glass? She beat against it with the side of her closed fist, but the wall was solid, unyielding.

The monitor displayed a woman’s face. Could she hear her? Who was she? The frightened woman screamed at the monitor, pleading with this unknown face to let her go. But then the screen disappeared, plunging the interior of the box into a black void once again. The fresh air she had been enjoying seemed to disappear as well.

Carly’s pounding on the wall intensified, the brief illumination of her prison giving her a reference of space and the knowledge that the darkness was not necessarily permanent. But soon her lungs ached and her thoughts returned to survival, to conserving what oxygen remained in the box. Leaning against the wall, she suddenly felt dizzy and sank to her knees, gasping for a full breath.

This cycle was repeated countless times until Carly stood by that spot in the box, waiting to see the woman’s lovely face appear, and waiting for the oxygen to be restored. She didn’t beat against the wall now, just leaned there, looking at the woman’s image, hoping she would somehow save her. Even in her dream, Carly felt safe when the woman appeared. Even in her dream, she felt herself relax, releasing the stress that the earlier part of the dream had caused her.

Carly awoke with a start, shaking the dream from her head, as she felt a tingling sensation in her bare buttocks. Seconds later the sensation began to spread outwards along the smooth plastic plank she lay on. Seeing a soft glow in the box, she quickly sat up to slide her feet off and onto the floor, before that tingling became a horrible pain.

A tiny ray of light from above illuminated the toilet and she moved quickly towards it. The porcelain fixture was unlike anything she had ever seen and was really a marvel of technology. She had come to realize that whoever had constructed this box she called home must have been a genius. Well, sort of an evil genius, she supposed.

Stepping over the short round fixture, she slowly lowered herself into its womb. Picture one of those plastic trashcans that have the domed tops that swing back and forth, allowing trash to be deposited from either side. Remove the swinging door, shorten the base, construct it out of porcelain, and make it incredibly smooth and contoured. That was her toilet. She knelt with her legs straddling its cool smooth sides, her crotch surrounded by its rounded surfaces.

It took only a minute for the young woman to release her bowels. She assumed the diet she was fed was high in fiber and probably contained ingredients that made such easy defecation possible. Regardless, she was grateful for it, and silently thanked her Mistress for taking such good care of her. It had not always been that way, for when she was still that other person, the untamed one, she couldn’t pass her waste so easily and the longer she knelt upon the fixture, the more intense the pain became.

The energy had attacked her knees as she knelt, causing her to jump up away from the toilet. She hadn’t realized that the entire floor was electrified and began to hop from one foot to the other trying to cope with the sudden intense pain. The dance continued while she tried to figure out what to do. The sliver of white light still illuminated the toilet, and she finally managed to mount it again. The flow of current beneath her stopped for several minutes before she began to feel the sensation in her knees again. Frantic now, Carly forced herself to expel her waste, the pain of achieving that causing her to scream. But at least the tingling below her knees had stopped.

Now, her eyes closed as jets of water doused her flesh, cleansing her, and then smiled as a waft of hot air dried her. That air felt good against the bare flesh of her groin and had become a sensation she looked forward to each time.

She looked down at the floor, black as night, as were all the walls. But within the surface of the floor, and all of the walls, and every fixture within her box, was the energy that disciplined her. Electricity, controlled from outside the box, controlled by her Mistress. Should she fail to comply with a command, that energy was immediately released.

It had been difficult to understand what was happening to her at first, difficult to understand the commands and what was expected of her. And because of that, she suffered horribly. It didn’t take long, however, for her to realize that she was commanded by the tiny rays of light and by the various monitors around the interior of the box. Her first lesson was in the form of an exercise routine displayed on one of the LCD monitors.

Staring at the screen, Carly was bewildered as to why she was being shown these images. It was a black and white video of several dozen North Korean schoolgirls in drab gray uniforms, doing jumping jacks in perfect synchronicity. It was bizarre! Standing before the soft glow of the monitor, Carly felt the current beneath her feet growing in intensity. It felt funny, and she giggled, as it seemed to tickle her bare soles. But then she grew concerned as the tingling changed into something a little more uncomfortable. She began her little dance, hopping on one foot and then the other, screaming out for whoever was doing this to stop!

Looking at the monitor, she had an idea, and began to perform the same exercise as was being shown. The current instantly stopped. She felt silly, jumping naked, her breasts bouncing in front of her. Not that there was that much flesh bouncing, but what she had felt very odd jiggling unrestrained. She continued to move her feet while holding her breasts, but let out a scream as her feet touched the floor and felt a powerful jolt. Falling to the floor, she cried out as the pain assaulted her.

In the soft glow of the monitor she looked up to see the molded bed, jutting out from the wall, and had jumped up to throw herself onto it, only to scream as the energy continued to surge through her. Landing back on her feet, she immediately began to perform the exercise correctly, feeling the painful punishment immediately subside.

And thus she learned how she was to be controlled, how she was to be trained. There were no doubts now that she was being trained, even brainwashed. The realization that her thought processes had been altered was not lost on her. She fully understood that certain things brought her pleasure that would not have done so before.

Thinking about pleasure made Carly thirsty. Well, it made her lick her lips, at least. The thirst part was possibly a response to what she knew she had been conditioned to feel. She glanced to her left to gaze at a fixture in the box that she had come to think of as a sculpture. It was certainly beautifully crafted, made of the same smooth material as most everything else in the box.

The Sculpture of Life, that’s what she had come to call it in her mind at least, because without it she would probably die of hunger or thirst. The sculpture was a round pillar, about a foot in diameter, rising two feet from the floor. Sitting atop the rounded top of the pillar was a large phallus. Near the top of the pillar, jutting out horizontally away from it was another phallus, of similar girth as the one atop the sculpture, but half the length. On the opposite side of the rounded sculpture were two ‘appendages’ about ten inches long and six inches in diameter, in the shape of a vee. Where the two appendages met at the pillar was, for want of a better word, a cunt. One of the few things in the room not made out of the hard black material, the cunt was made out of some sort of material that was soft and pliable.

Carly looked up as she noticed the room begin to darken. The small pin light overhead was dimming. Wishing she could go to the cunt, Carly resigned herself to remain straddling the toilet. After some time her knees grew tired, but she willed herself to remain upright, to not give in to the temptation of resting against the smooth contours of the commode. Experience told her she would receive a shock if she used the structure to support herself. She prayed that the toilet structure’s more sinister feature would soon be deployed, and knew that the chance of receiving the abuse she craved grew with each passing moment.

Patience. It was a word that she knew all too well now. Just be patient. Remain motionless and wait for instructions.

ooOoo

The interior of the box was dark again. Quiet and dark. Carly heard the click of the air system and smiled. It had taken a long time to hear that little click. Days, weeks, months? There was really no way to tell. Only that on one occasion she was being patient, yes patient like her Mistress’ slave should be, waiting, breathing quietly and waiting patiently, when she heard it. Click! Then she felt air movement in the box. At times, alone in the blackness, that air movement seemed like a welcome friend coming to visit her for a short time.

The little click had always been there, she had just never been quiet enough to hear it. Of course there was a regular exchange of air in the box, otherwise she would have died long ago. But the sound of that little click filled her with hope for some reason. It was a sound from outside the box. She stilled her heartbeat in hopes of hearing other sounds, but there were none.

But now Carly, still kneeling with her legs spread widely over her toilet, heard a different sound, a sound that made her clench her fists, and tense her slender frame. She raised her hands so that her fingers met at the back of her head, her elbows out to the sides, displaying herself for her Mistress. This was the position that the diagram on one of the monitors had revealed to her the first time she received this treatment.

At the time, she had considered the treatment to be punishment, for she was still untamed. But now she considered it to be the prelude to a gift. She knew she had done nothing to be punished for, and hadn’t for quite some time. Her Mistress was only using her body, as was her right to do. Her Mistress was preparing her to worship the cunt.

The first few slaps against her exposed ass weren’t too painful, but she knew that the little wheel was just getting up to speed. She never saw the straps of whatever it was that struck her, but she guessed they were either rubber or leather. The straps were somewhat soft, simply brushing against her flesh at the low speed, but as the speed increased and the straps extended through centrifugal force, so did the pain. She often wondered what was more painful, the straps striking her flesh, or the energy that would attack her should she jump up? In the back of her mind she feared the energy. No, she would take the abuse to her ass and pussy, and then she would be rewarded.

Moments later she was biting her lip to keep from crying out. Being beaten like this was one thing, but to do it with the current attacking her knees and spreading up through her legs would be even worse! She was determined to suffer in silence for as long as possible. The little wheel turned slightly from vertical to strike her ass in a different location.

To block out the pain, Carly thought about the punishing device. Where did it come from? She had once taken a chance and peered into the basin, but could detect no compartment from which it might emerge. She had lingered too long looking in, and had received a really nice surge of electricity through her knees. No, she was certainly not alone. Someone was watching her every movement twenty-four hours a day.

The whipping continued, the wheel turning horizontally now to allow the whirling straps to strike her exposed ass from left to right. Whatever shaft the wheel was on dropped two inches in elevation to position the flogger closer to her legs, striking the tender flesh on her lower buttocks with painful precision.

There was no uniform length of time or pattern of abuse to the floggings, but it seemed this session had already been longer and more diverse than any she had suffered through before. Suffered through? Carly smiled, and then smiled even wider when she realized she was smiling. She hadn’t even been thinking about suffering, as she had come to think of the prelude to the gift as endurance. Yes, her Mistress had been working on her endurance. She wished to endure even more as she hoped the next step of the prelude would soon begin.

But as always, that decision was not hers to make. Carly’s arms were tired but she had no desire to lower them. She would stay in that position for as long as she possibly could in hopes of proceeding to the next step.

When the flogging finally ended, Carly listened for the sound of the device being lowered into the structure. When she heard nothing, the expectation of what she knew would follow raised her heart rate considerably, because, not only would her pussy be abused, but she would be allowed to go to the cunt. That was the protocol, and she licked her lips in anticipation.

End of part 1