Recovery Room
Prison Island.
One of the correctional facilities established by Waltz Production — a lawless zone carved out beyond the reach of lobbies and legal nets. Consent was obtained, yes, but it remained a place that stripped away, if only for a time, the very freedom called an inalienable human right.
In truth, the concept of human rights itself had always been an assertion born of social systems and the need for human survival, and so gaps were inevitable. Even so, certain minimum measures were required. The facility's purpose was to provide services to inmates whose rights had been stripped away, and for the sake of the company's own continuity, the health of those inmates had to be treated as the highest priority.
That was why the medical facilities on Prison Island — a place rife with every kind of danger and home to a punishment system that went by the name of execution — had no choice but to be outfitted with the most advanced equipment and the finest medical systems available.
"How is she, Dr. Franken?"
Leviathan had brought Inmate A522 to the place called the Recovery Room, and now he put the question to the middle-aged man. At the summons, the tall man glanced toward the inmate a short distance away — A522 — and opened his mouth.
"She's fine. She'll be healed by the end of the day. If we're lucky, she might even make it in time for the torture session."
"That's a relief."
At the reply, Leviathan followed his gaze. A522 was in the middle of treatment.
"Well… I wonder if we should call it a relief. Heh heh."
"What can you do. She brought it on herself."
Where their eyes settled, the sight of A522 receiving treatment was…
"Nnghh!! Mmph!!"
…a far cry from anything that happened in an ordinary hospital. A522 was naked, bound to the bed, thrashing her body.
"Eye treatment in particular is pretty vicious. In a normal hospital you'd get some anesthetic and spend about a month recovering. We don't have that luxury here."
"Does it hurt worse than burns?"
"How would I know. No inmate's ever gone through both at once. Of all the things to injure, it had to be the eyes…. Those bastards in solitary did this, didn't they?"
"Yes."
"No wonder her ears were torn off…."
Leviathan looked at A522 as she underwent treatment. Machines were affixed all over her body. A skin-culture regenerator — state-of-the-art equipment that, given enough time, could even restore severed limbs — and joint-recovery apparatus were mending her broken joints and severed places, while a VR-like device locked over her eyes restored the collapsed sockets.
In the distant past, injuries like these would have left a person crippled. But with the advance of modern technology, restoring the body was no great feat. Still, the human flesh, with its finite cells, had its limits. Under ordinary circumstances, as Franken the medical officer had said, these machines were meant to operate over days or even months so as not to burden the body. Here, no such consideration existed. In exchange for restoring the body at the machines' maximum capacity, the sole side effect — pain — was left for the inmate to bear.
Perhaps nothing could have been more perfectly suited to Prison Island.
Watching the woman thrash against her bonds, biting down on the gag as the agony of treatment wracked her, Leviathan dug into his pocket and drew out a small device.
"Want me to turn it on?"
"She seems to be suffering so much. We ought to at least scramble her mind a little."
"Heh. Pretending to be considerate. Those bitches would probably find that even more unbearable."
"All the better, then. That's what they came here for, isn't it?"
"True enough."
Leviathan pressed the switch. At once A522 flinched and trembled. Confirming that the Stimulation Spores were working properly, he set the device's sensitivity to maximum and found a nearby chair to sit in. He had already gotten off once, but watching the woman's tormented body had him hard enough that his pants ached.
"Want a cup of coffee?"
"If you're offering, throw in some erection suppressant too."
"Already mixed it in."
"Thank you."
Franken held out the coffee. Sensing that Leviathan would be staying a while, he pulled a few cookies from his drawer and set them on the desk. The moment settled naturally into conversation. Franken took a sip of coffee first and asked,
"So right now you've got A711 and A691 in your room? Did you tie them up properly before you left?"
"I just left them. Even if they run, it's not like they can get off this island. And a new one came in yesterday, so that makes three."
"Oh! Really? What's the new numbering?"
"A713."
"Got a photo?"
"Here."
Still sipping his coffee in the same posture, Leviathan brought up a hologram on his portable terminal. Inmate number A713. Nayoon's profile and incarceration data floated just above the device.
"Nice. Wow! Her style is exactly like the old A479. Did you request her?"
Studying the hologram photo, Franken thought of a past inmate and put the question to Leviathan. At the question, Leviathan crushed an innocent cookie between his fingers as he answered.
"…Well. I did put in the request the moment the new inmate info came through."
"I knew it! Because she looks like A479?"
"I won't deny it."
It was the kind of thing hard to say to another guard. But Leviathan was close enough with Franken that he spoke his mind without filter.
"So what, then~ You're not sending her out on loan this time? You're going to fuck her yourself?"
And so Franken, too, was the first to raise a subject that could have been sensitive. At the question Leviathan paused a beat, then dumped the coffee from his cup down his throat. The coffee was still hot enough to steam — but his throat was burning too badly to care.
"…."
"Hm? What's with that reaction… Don't tell me."
"The coffee's good."
"Haha. You really never change, do you~ Your tastes are so consistent. Heh heh."
"Don't laugh."
Franken snickered. He took Leviathan's empty cup and refilled it, then added one more thing.
"This time, don't make any mistakes. Take proper care of her."
"…Yes. I will."
At the advice, Leviathan turned his gaze back toward A522. The Stimulation Spores must have grown more active; drunk on the nipple stimulation layered over the agony of treatment, A522 was screaming in a full panic.
"Kyaaauuugh!! Phuuugh! Nngghh!!"
A522's thrashing — the thrashing of a woman who ranked among the top on Prison Island for enduring pain. Watching her howl even through the gag, Leviathan nodded.
I will. I can't afford another situation like hers — the one I lost because I went soft just because I liked her.
He kept the thought unspoken. And so he remained in the treatment room, crossing past and present in his mind, steeling his resolve.
How had it come to this?
"Mmm… There — put it in harder! Nnh…! Ahn♡"
After Leviathan left the guard room, I found myself knuckle-deep in A711's pussy at her request.
At first I had tried to refuse. However much she had helped me at the start, A711's demand was not the kind of thing you simply nodded along to.
"Shove your whole hand in until my pussy tears and just rock it back and forth!"
The plea she had forced out through her moans was extremely hardcore. I had no lesbian leanings to speak of, and the idea of putting my hand inside another person's genitals…! It was not something you did in your right mind. More than that, what she was asking for was called fisting — a play style that even within SM circles was not something just anyone could do. It was the kind of play you were supposed to approach carefully, with lubricant and in hygienic conditions. But A711 had brushed all that aside and kept coaxing me as I refused.
And that earnest pleading of hers… I simply could not turn it down. I knew it was dangerous, but when she brought up how she had made room for me last night and the sacrifice she had made that morning, I — already carrying a debt of gratitude — had no grounds left to refuse. She would bear the physical risk herself, she begged. And then the words that drove the nail home:
"If we get caught and punished, I'll take full responsibility — demeanor penalty points, corporal punishment, all of it!"
That, too, was a cleaned-up version of something she had howled in a voice barely human. It had only been a few minutes ago, but the desperation of that moment had shaken something deep in my chest.
Fine. All right.
In the end, I had no choice but to grant her wish.
"Kkieeeugh!!! It hurts! But it's good!! Fuck meee…!! Hieeugh!♡"
Seated on the floor, A711 spread her pussy open with both hands, positioning herself so I could push my hand in easily. Another person's genitals, right before my eyes. Toward that place I tapered my fingertips and eased them in little by little. Fortunately, lubricant turned out to be unnecessary. Between the movement of the Stimulation Spores and the arousal from caressing me, her fluids had gathered thick enough to thoroughly wet my hand.
— Squish. Squiiish.
With a wet sound, the first knuckle of my fingers slipped between her spread folds. This was clearly not her first time. A711 let her tongue loll out and wore an expression of pure rapture at the stimulus.
"More…! More more…! Put more in! More!! Hurry…!♡"
"Ugh… Y-yeah…. Okay."
The situation had come out of nowhere. But now that we had started, I had to finish before Leviathan returned. I knew I was supposed to be careful, but A711's trembling, drooling reactions and the urgency of finishing before the guard came back had me shaken too.
— Squish. Squish.
"Higgggrrraaagh…! Nngghh!! So good…! Haaauuugh…!♡ Ahn… Aahn…!"
All my fingers sank into her pussy, and the moment they cleared the ridge of my knuckles, my wrist slid — shunk — straight into her womb. For an instant A711 threw her head back as if in agony, then trembled and looked at me. And then she…
"A713… nnh… Unnie, hurry. Hurry. Back and forth…! Shake it!! Hurry!♡"
What is wrong with this girl…. She was terrifying. A711, eyes wild with frenzy, pressed me with a voice loud enough to worry me. At her request — half polite, half desperate — I began to rock my arm little by little. Gently, back and forth—
At that, A711's eyes rolled back and her face twisted.
"Kkieeeut!! Kyaang! Hahk…!! Ah…! Aah! Keep going! Keeeeeep going!"
Was she laughing or crying. Her expression was clearly one of pain, and still she ordered me not to stop. At her plea I rocked my arm forward and back. To be precise, her womb had clenched so tight that I was less moving my hand than shaking her whole body by the hand lodged in her pussy — but every time my hand twitched from the ache, every time I tensed against the throb in my joints, A711 reacted like a toy to even the smallest motion.
"Kyaau… Uwah… so goo… so gooood…. Ah haaah ♡"
After only a few shakes her eyes had gone completely slack. It was a brutal act just to watch, and the way she came from that alone somehow frightened me. And more frightening still—
"Nnh… mmm."
—was the fact that I, watching her, was getting wet myself. With my right hand buried in another woman's pussy, I found my left hand drifting, almost without my noticing, toward my own sex. I had been told masturbation was forbidden. And still the instinctive act was unfolding before I could even register it.
"Aah… nnh…. Eut♡"
And then the tip of my left index finger found my clit. Already swollen from one round of sex and the abuse that had continued since morning, it was more engorged than usual. On top of that—
"Kyaat… Of all times…!"
—the Stimulation Spores moved, timed perfectly. The sensation radiating from the tips of my breasts short-circuited my reason. And this time the movement was less pain than a lewd, caressing kind of stimulus.
"Ah… No. Unnieee… You can't masturbate… nnh… eugyaah… uuu…."
After climaxing, A711 was melting into exhaustion; she seemed to grasp the situation belatedly and tried to catch my arm to stop me. But her arm only flailed in empty air. I knew. I knew what she was trying to say, and that I ought to stop right now. But the smell of fluids and body heat thick enough to fill the wide guard room — and above all, the scent of a man's semen clinging to A711's hair — made stopping impossible.
— Squish.
"Aaaah—!"
In the end, I drove my left hand into my own pussy. Right hand in someone else's sex. Left hand in my own. It was a grotesque posture, but I had no other choice.
"Eeit…! It won't come ouuut… Ah… nnh… ah."
A711, coming back to her senses, tried to pull my right hand free of her pussy, but the spasms in her womb were still going and she could not easily extract it. Instead, as if every touch only made her feel more, she spread her legs and lay back. With my convenient right hand unavailable, I had no choice but to work my left as a substitute. There was no need to take my time the way I did masturbating at home. The foreplay and stimulation were more intense than they had ever been. I… carefully angled my left hand and thrust it into my sex.
"Ahhk…! Ah…!!"
If I could have had my way, I would have shoved it in to the wrist the way I had with A711. So I pushed, gathering my fingers as tight as I could and driving them in hard. But my inexperienced body would not accept its own hand. At best I managed about one knuckle's depth — and even that with only three of my five fingers.
"Euhhk… Ah aheut…♡"
It didn't matter. Right now, what mattered was working off the lust that had built up. If I could thrust hard and fast and find some satisfaction, I thought I might reclaim my reason. No — I believed that was the only way to find my original mind again.
But—
"…Just what the hell do you two think you're doing?"
—that was a miscalculation. Reason did not return through any such effort. It came back easily enough at a single man's question alone. The sensation of my heart dropping out of my chest. In a silence where even A711's breathing and mine had stopped, we slowly turned our heads toward the sound. And at the same moment—
"Hic!"
"Hic!"
—both of us hiccuped.