It Hurts
A713 floated on the hologram.
Leviathan had pulled up the physical exam results, photographs, and contract terms—everything except the private personal data visible only to an assigned guard—and was walking the others through the key points one by one.
“Since it’s her first day, she didn’t set any particular options. She racked up quite a few demeanor penalty points right out of the gate, but the main issue doesn’t seem to be a weak throat so much as inexperience with deep-throating.”
“…Those points are pretty high.”
“The dildo was molded after mine, so it’s on the large side too. Still, she managed to swallow the morning nutrient mass without trouble and handled the evening pill meal just fine, so…”
Leviathan spoke without pausing for breath, leaving no room for anyone to cut in. The briefing was necessary, and the content was long enough that the unbroken delivery made sense.
But there was always someone who stood out.
Asmode, studying A713’s photo on the hologram with careful interest, propped her chin on her hand and let a sly smile curl her lips.
“Aww~ No wonder it felt weird when our usually unambitious Leviathan suddenly said he wanted the new girl. She looks like A479.”
“….”
“Doesn’t everyone think so? The face is different, and the chest size is a whole other story, but the eyes and the vibe are way too similar to A479. Heehee. Leviathan~ Be honest with big sis. You…”
“….”
“You asked for her so you could train her exactly the way you like, didn’t you?”
The smile vanished from Asmode’s face as she fixed Leviathan with a hard stare. Under that pressure he stopped talking and scowled.
If he stayed silent now, it would look like a full confession. Clenching his fists, Leviathan swept his gaze once around the room and continued.
“Haa~ Asmode-nim.”
“Come on~ Call me noona.”
“Stop saying the same thing for the fourth year running. Anyway—everything except that last part is true. This A713… she gave me a feeling close to the old A479, so I asked for her. But I am not planning to train her to my personal tastes.”
He dropped his voice to underline the seriousness. Leviathan already carried a certain gravity; seeing him even more solemn than usual wiped the playfulness from every face in the room.
“I’m one of the less experienced guards here, but everyone knows I’m also the one who follows the regulations most carefully. Isn’t that right, Warden Diabolos?”
“…Keep talking.”
“To be honest, I did feel something a little special toward the former A479. And the moment I saw A713, who resembles her, a strong attraction hit me. But I will handle her strictly by prison regulations, so don’t worry.”
“Hmm.”
His firm declaration drew nods all around. Diabolos, the warden, reacted especially strongly to the short, sharp tone and moved to ease the heavy atmosphere.
“All right, all right. Settle down. As everyone knows, we guards are in the position of torturing and tormenting the inmates. That’s why, at the start of these meetings, we run the little chant that reminds us they are customers—so we don’t gaslight them or turn them into private sex slaves.”
“….”
“I understand Asmode’s concern. A479 was exactly that case. But as you all know, A479 herself pushed hard for it and ended up involved with a guard. The previous Marmon refused at first, too, until her relentless requests made it happen.”
Everyone listened closely. Diabolos had served longest on Prison Island and had contributed heavily to the current rules; his word was as good as the island’s law and the will of the higher-ups.
“Our regulation is: ‘A guard must not train or torture an inmate for the purpose of making her a personal slave.’ The reverse situation, however, is allowed. That’s why A479 is still one of our customers. The Marmon of that time transferred to a ground post, but he was able to stay with the company in the end. So, Leviathan.”
“Yes.”
“Whatever feelings you harbor, while you’re on Prison Island you will treat A713 according to the established regulations and programs. Otherwise I’ll reassign her guard. No—I’ll just ship you to a ground post. Understood?”
“Yes. Understood.”
Everyone accepted Diabolos’s measured conclusion. His words were pure common sense. As long as the line of the rules was kept, there would be no problem. That was what they all believed.
“Good. While we’re on the subject—A713 has no chastity-protection option, correct? Looking at the counseling notes, she isn’t a virgin. Leviathan never has sex with inmates at all, so… let’s see. Who are you assigning the Opening Ceremony to this time?”
Sensing the discussion was winding down, Diabolos turned the question to Leviathan. The important data could be shared through the terminals; he shifted the topic to the new inmate’s Opening Ceremony.
The Opening Ceremony was both entertainment for the guards and a vital ritual that announced to the inmates that their human rights were gone and their bodies would be handled without restraint. Normally the assigned guard performed it, but Leviathan had never conducted an Opening Ceremony since becoming a guard. From the start he had refused sexual contact with inmates, drawing a hard line. Before A479 appeared, rumors had even circulated that he was gay or impotent; even with A479, whom he had grown fond of, he had used her only as an oral tool at most. His sexual record inside the prison remained at zero.
Whenever a new inmate entered Cell 3, a guard from another cell had therefore handled the ceremony. Prison rules also required the assigned guard’s permission for any sex with an inmate, so designating who would perform A713’s Opening Ceremony fell to Leviathan.
“….”
Yet Leviathan kept his mouth shut. He simply stared at Diabolos’s face in silence.
“What? What is it? You want me to do it?”
Normally he would have asked who wanted the job or named someone on the spot. Instead he sat rigid, offering no reaction at all. Diabolos, facing this for the first time, looked baffled and pressed him again.
“….”
But as Leviathan’s gaze slowly drifted into empty air with an odd expression, several guards read the meaning behind the gesture. Soft sighs and laughter began to seep out. Asmode, quickest on the uptake and already finished sorting her thoughts, let out a long breath.
“He did it. He actually did it…. Diabolos oppa… no, Warden. I told you he can’t. If you leave him with A713… ah. I wash my hands of it.”
“Haha. That Leviathan doing an Opening Ceremony? Heh. Puhahahaha.”
“What is it, Shatan hyung-nim? Asmode noona? Tell me too.”
Amid the split reactions of those who understood and those who did not, Leviathan flinched and sat back down. The rest of the reports and meeting continued, but one man had to remain silent. As time passed, the flush climbing his ears was probably no illusion.
Time passed.
“Haa. Haa. Ugh… haeuh… haa.”
Unconscious moans slipped from my mouth. How long had it been? In a space without sound or light, I sat astride the triangular wooden horse while my body was slowly sliced apart.
“Ugh… uuugh. Ha. Haeuh.”
There had been moments when it felt like pleasure. When the stimulation spores thrashed inside the nipples clamped by the clips, and the cold ridge of the wooden horse crushed my sex under pressure, I had thought this level of sensation could still be accepted as enjoyable torture.
I am a masochist, after all.
I am a pervert who feels pain as pleasure.
But that had been arrogance.
Once the spores stopped moving and the weight of my own body kept grinding down, my sex and anus—unable to hold out—were gradually torn open on the sharp spine of the horse.
“Ugh… kkeueuk…!”
The smell of sweat and arousal fluid. And now the scent of blood rising from the torn wounds mixed in as well. With my head slightly bowed, the strangely blended odor rose and stabbed at my nose.
“Haeuh… euaah. Ah….”
I wanted to shake my head and escape the smell. I no longer had even that much strength. The clips biting my nipples prevented me from straightening my back; the slight forward bend that resulted planted a fresh ache in my lower back that tormented me further.
If I forced it, could I sit up? That would require a jolt strong enough to rip the clips free, and in my present state it was impossible. Either my nipples would tear off, or the rebound would saw my sex open on the horse’s ridge—one or the other. No matter how much my back hurt or how foul the smell became, I could not risk it.
Even if I succeeded, all I would gain was a straight spine. Getting off the triangular wooden horse was still impossible.
“Eueuk… haa. Uuueuk….”
It hurts so much.
It hurts enough to kill me.
Every scrap of strength was gone; I could not even twitch a finger. Yet my body still screamed at me to do something, anything. My two legs, hanging beside the horse, trembled without rest under the relentless pressure. My breasts, hauled outward by the clips and chains, twitched with the elastic urge to return to their proper place.
My mouth, unable to close against the pain, let precious saliva drip free. My body felt as parched as the moisture I was losing.
“Kkeueuk…! Haeuk….”
Every time the agony made my body move on its own, a raw, stinging pain flared from the scraped sex, urethra, and anus. I had not chosen to move. The triangular wooden horse still shoved me into the pit of despair without pause.
My brain, pickled in pain, felt ready to burst. In the end I bit my lip hard, trying to endure. The lip had already split long ago. I licked the blood-tasting surface so the saliva would not spill and held my breath.
“Haa. Haeuh… uuuh.”
If only the stimulation spores would move again—would that make it even a little better? The thrashing that had once tormented me so badly was something I now longed for. Had the full hour allotted for today already been used up? Please no. Please let it not be so.
But the spores did not move. They should be moving now. They had to… yet they seemed to sleep, as if mocking me, as if even the freedom to feel had been denied.
“Heuk… uu… uueuk.”
I felt like throwing up. The evening pill meal still sat undissolved in my stomach, churning.
“Haa. Haa. Ugh… eueuk.”
I finally understood why torture was torture. It was nothing like the “torture play” talked about in SM. In play there was a safeword and the session could be stopped at any moment to prevent accidents. Real torture was pure malice. The pain itself was bad enough; the terror of knowing I could not end it of my own will was worse.
How much time had passed? Please let it end soon. Please finish it quickly.
“Haa. Uuuh… uuueut.”
Two hundred thirteen minutes. A full three hours and thirty-three minutes. Even standing at attention for that long would be agony; enduring it in this state of pain was far too long. But I had no choice.
“Eueut… haa. Haa.”
The words “please stop” and “please end it” no longer came out. They would have been useless anyway. Now I was nothing more than a body that could only wait for it to be over. Once again I felt, with fresh clarity, that I was an inmate stripped of human rights.
Regret washed over me. If I had sucked the dildo properly from the start—if I had abandoned everything and sucked until my throat tore—I would never have earned those one hundred twenty-three demeanor penalty points. If I had helped A711 sooner and not masturbated, I would never have received the extra sixty minutes of torture.
The points hurt most of all. Had I taken them too lightly because I thought they were only about “execution”? Honestly, that thought had been there. As long as I wasn’t last, I wouldn’t be executed. I had taken a huge hit on the first day, but there were people worse off than me. Especially while A688 was around, the points I was piling up now didn’t matter that much… I had never drawn a clear line, but I had definitely thought that way.
“Uuueuk!! Ah… no. If it tears any more… ah… euhk.”
This was the price. Just now, between my legs, I felt skin split and blood surge out. Without my noticing, my trembling body had rubbed against the ridge of the horse and opened a new wound. Or perhaps an existing tear had simply widened. What was certain was that my body had long since passed its limit. Now the only question left was how severe the damage would become.
“It hurts. Uuuh… it hurts.”
I sobbed without meaning to; my consciousness was drifting. When would this time finally end? Please let me down. Please stop. Anyone—please open the iron door in front of me and come in. I begged it silently.
Especially Leviathan. As my assigned guard, he could free me. He was the one who had put me in this state, but that also meant he was the one who could take me out of it.
“Ah… ugh… uuuh.”
Why won’t it stop? The machine voice said it clearly. If my life was in danger or my body was at risk of being torn into permanent disability, the torture would halt…. I’m in danger right now. Stop. Please. Please….
“Ppeueuh… ppeueut… haa. Haa. Ugh…”
Hair plastered to my cheeks with sweat. The fringe I had never cut stabbed at my eyes as I stared ahead with blurring vision. The door. Open. Open. Please. Open. Open, damn you. Stop. Stop. Please stop. I’m… so tired. It’s tearing. No—it’s already torn. My nipples hurt so much. My bound hands hurt so much. The rope digging in hurts so much. Between my legs hurts so much. My thighs feel like they’ll snap. My ankles… are they already cut off? I wish they were. Then maybe I could get down from this horse. I want to straighten my back. So much. So… hard.
— Clank.
Huh… what?
In my hazy state a loud sound rang out right in front of me. Hope flared as I looked ahead. It has to be. It has to be. I didn’t mishear. I didn’t.
The iron door still had not moved. But I had clearly heard the sound. Praying it was no hallucination, I forced my head up.
And what I saw was—
“Oh? Look at that. She’s smiling.”
A guard.
Leviathan.