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The Sisterhood - Part 6
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While the elevator is silently descending and under the gaze of two imposing guards, I can't endure the torture of my chastity device any longer. The pain of spikes drilling into deep fascia, constantly drawing miniscule amounts of blood and staining the silvery shine of the titanium alloy, is at times unbearable and maintaining posture and grace almost impossible. I lean forward and lift my scrotum, in the hope of easing the pressure. But the guard on my left grabs me by the throat with one hand and swats my fingers away with the other and commands in an imposing voice: "Hands off boy!". She only let's go of me, after I apologize and promise not to do it again, and the ride continues into the abyss, the dark, deary labyrinth, where skeletons are buried, and chambers are only accessible on a need to know basis.
You can think of the sisterhood as a counterpart to the Vatican, overtly an organization of charity and benevolence, dedicated to support and advance women all over the world in cutting edge fields of the arts and sciences, business, technology, and innovation. But behind the veneer of virtue and ministration lies an edifice made up of dark corners, hidden chambers, secretive rites and almost no single person has access to its entirety.
When we reach our destination the guard who berated me slams one hand on my shoulder, grabs my ribbon necklace and whispers: "You better behave yourself boy or you are going to be the next sacrifice!". Ash pale and my body trembling, I nod and hoarsely stammer: "Yes Ma'am, I'll be a good boy!". She grins and slaps the back of my head, pushes me out of the elevator, and adds sardonically: "And be careful, do not stroll around. Little boys who lose their way down here tend to run into open knives!". I nod and bow as gracefully as I can muster with the burning pain in my groin as the elevator doors close.
The corridors are dimly lit, guards are located around every corner, usually barely noticeable since they stand in shaded niches or recesses of door entrances. Infrared cameras observe every inch of this infernal underground structure. The air is moist and heavy and if you listen carefully you can hear distant screams and shrieks within the constant humming of the ventilation system. The walls consist of a fine green tinted sandstone, while doors, stairs, and handrails mostly consist of blunt steel or heavy wood.
I pause for a second and try to hearken, it seems someone is calling my name, pleading for help. With my ear to the wall and moving around, I try to find the source, but in that moment a searing whip lash across my back puts an abrupt end to my curiosity. Temporarily my legs go limp and I stumble to the ground, scraping my cheek and knees on the wall, when subsequent lashes across my body follow and everything goes dark around me.
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Posted on : Apr 15, 2022
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