Human Rights Deprived
How had the time passed?
No—was time even flowing at all?
I spent each day in a haze of anxiety and fear, expectation and a racing heart.
On the holiday I called my sister and told her I would be leaving on a trip for about half a year. She asked where I could possibly be going for so long, but I brushed it off as a healing journey after resigning from my job. My voice must have sounded different from usual; she fretted that I shouldn’t think any dark thoughts. I only complained back that she was making me more restless with her needless worries. In the end the sisters’ call finished on laughter.
At least the preparation I had fretted over most was finished….
“Hah….”
A few days later, Sunday night arrived.
Tomorrow was finally the promised day of incarceration.
— Ziiing. Ziiing.
My phone rang. An unfamiliar number I had never seen before. Ordinarily I ignored every call that wasn’t already saved, yet this time I could not. The moment the caller ID displayed the company name Waltz, I knew the hour had come and I had to steel myself.
I answered.
“Hello.”
“Hello, Nayoon-nim. This is Kim Eunbi.”
“Ah… yes.”
I took the call with a slight tremor of tension, and Eunbi’s voice came through—bright, almost flushed. Even without seeing her face I could tell she was excited that I would be locked up tomorrow.
“Tomorrow’s finally the day. Are you all prepared? If you regret it even a little you can still cancel now… though there would be a small cancellation fee. How about it? Do you think you can go through with it?”
It sounded like she was testing my resolve. I bit my lip. After waiting this long, to talk of canceling now…? Fine. Think positively. She was only saying it so I would firm up my own determination.
“Yes… I’m fine. I can do it.”
I carefully conveyed my will. Instantly her tone lightened, the cheerful lilt of a close friend who had just received consent.
“That’s a relief. All right then—tomorrow at four in the morning, eight hours from now. A bus will come to your front door. It’s a transport bus, and the moment you board it the program begins.”
“Ah… yes.”
“Once you’re on the bus, simply follow our staff’s instructions. There isn’t much time left, so get plenty of sleep and prepare yourself mentally. If there’s anything you still haven’t sorted out, finish it now. And change your door-lock password to ‘0713’ in advance. Any questions?”
The rapid-fire instructions ended with a question, yet by this point nothing remained that I needed to ask.
“No. I’m fine.”
“Then I’ll hang up here. Nayoon-nim.”
“…Yes.”
“Welcome as a fellow Mazo inmate. Heh.”
— Click.
With that parting greeting the line went dead.
“Huu….”
A sigh escaped me unbidden. I set the phone down and checked the clock. Eight hours until incarceration. After confirming the remaining time I double- and triple-checked that nothing had been overlooked—locking every window and door again, inspecting the laundry I had already folded, peering into the emptied refrigerator. Things I would not need for at least six months. When I finally emptied the trash can completely, my severance from the world was finished. I lay down on the bed.
I should sleep. I had no idea how tomorrow would unfold, so I needed to conserve strength with proper rest. They would come for me at four a.m.; at the very least I had to be asleep by now.
But… sleep would not come.
Even after the hour hand passed midnight and the day of incarceration officially began, all my forced eye-closing and restless tossing proved useless. In the end I stayed awake the entire night.
“Haa….”
It was hard. Harder than any physical fatigue was the violent churning inside my chest. Time crawled with agonizing slowness—so slowly I almost wished it would hurry. Yet time was unmistakably moving.
— Tik. Tok. Tik. Tok.
The second hand of the analog clock ticked on, tortoise-slow. Slow as it was, it never stopped. Just as I was wearing myself out with waiting, the hands at last reached four in the morning. The instant the second and minute hands crossed the appointed hour, my heartbeat seemed to grow louder. Uncontrollable trembling and tension. What if my heart simply burst?
At that very moment—
— Ding-dong.
Someone pressed the doorbell outside the front door. I approached cautiously and used the peephole to check who stood there. Two solidly built men. Visiting an officetel at four a.m., both of them in uniform.
“Who is it?”
I already knew, yet confirmation was essential.
“We’re from Waltz Production. Lee Nayoon-nim, you are scheduled for transport today, correct?”
They were the ones I had been waiting for. Thankfully their manner remained gentlemanly, and with a somewhat lighter heart I opened the door.
“Hello.”
“Yes, hello. You are Lee Nayoon herself, yes? We are Hobbs and Machia, the transport officers assigned to you. Here—fingerprint scanner for identity verification. Please.”
The moment the door opened one of them thrust a machine at me. Introducing themselves under the aliases Hobbs and Machia, they held out a device I had never seen before.
“….”
Would everything turn brutal the instant I pressed my finger to it? With a flicker of fear I carefully set my fingertip on the scanner.
— Beep. Identity verification complete.
“Identity confirmed. A bus is waiting on the first floor; we’ll head there now. From this moment your residence will be managed by our staff. They’re the local caretakers, so you can leave everything to them with confidence. Hobbs, check the place. I’ll take Nayoon-nim first.”
“Yes, Machia hyung.”
The man called Machia ordered Hobbs to inspect the apartment. Watching him step inside, I saw him methodically checking gas valves, outlets, and other potential hazards.
“This way, Nayoon-nim.”
“Ah… yes.”
Leaving the apartment behind, I followed Machia’s lead. Fortunately they maintained their courtesy—movements crisp, disciplined, almost rule-bound. Their efficient manner even inspired a strange sense of trust.
Outside, not far away, stood the bus. It was parked on the roadside in front of the officetel building: an autonomous low-floor vehicle with no driver’s seat, every window coated in opaque black.
“Board.”
“Yes.”
As we approached the door opened. Guided by Machia I carefully stepped inside.
“Huh…?”
Yet another door blocked the way ahead—a double-door structure never seen on ordinary buses.
“This is…?”
The outer door closed behind us, trapping us in a narrow vestibule. In that confined space Machia, who had boarded with me, pulled something from his back pocket: a pair of silver handcuffs that gleamed coldly.
“All right, Lee Nayoon-nim. From this moment you become an inmate. You have not yet received an official inmate number, but we guards will treat you as a human-rights-deprived prisoner the instant you open that inner door and step inside.”
Gentle words, yet they carried a terrifying weight that seemed to clamp around my body. Neither man had laid a finger on me, but their gazes pinned me as if already violating me. What did those eyes mean…?
I did not need to wonder long.
“Right now, remove every piece of clothing you are wearing, set it aside, and cuff both of your hands behind your back.”
“…What?”
“That is the moment it begins, Nayoon-nim.”
He held the handcuffs out to me. I took them almost by reflex. The heavy metallic weight pressed down on my heart. In the bewildering situation my eyes darted about.
…I’m scared. And terrified.
The only mercy was that they did not rush me. I looked down at the clothes I wore—chosen for comfort today: a simple T-shirt and dolphin shorts I would normally only wear at home, completely out of season. If I simply decided, I could strip them off in an instant.
Yet my heart would not easily allow it. After long hesitation I finally bowed my head and gripped the hem.
Right. I already resolved myself, didn’t I? The women in the videos were almost naked. It’s fine. Compared to everything I’m about to endure, this is nothing at all.
Steeling myself, I pulled the clothes upward. Since secondary sexual characteristics had developed, this was the first time I had undressed in front of a man… no, in front of any other person.
“Underwear as well. Everything off.”
“…Yes.”
Once top and bottom were gone, the man who had handed me the cuffs ordered me to remove my underwear too. I obeyed. Shame and humiliation flooded in, yet having come this far I had neither the will nor the intention to turn back or give up.
“We’ll collect these clothes. We’ll wash them and store them; pick them up in six months.”
Now completely naked, I piled the garments to the side. One of the men bagged them in plastic. When the last of my personal belongings was taken, I finally felt the severance from society take hold.
Next came the handcuffs. I had occasionally cuffed myself during self-bondage play, but those had been soft leather SM toys. Metal cuffs with no release mechanism of my own were a first.
— Click. Ratchet-ratchet.
I first looped one cuff around a wrist and engaged the teeth. The cold, hard metal encircled my wrist and a shiver ran through me unbidden.
“Huu….”
After one deep breath I secured the remaining wrist.
— Click. Grind-grind.
Perhaps less oiled than the first, the second cuff locked with a dull finality, completely sealing both hands. Too frightening. Naked and now robbed of the freedom of my hands, I felt I might die of terror. Yet more terrifying still was the knowledge that I myself had chosen this, that I myself had surrendered my freedom. That was how thoroughly lust had stolen my reason—I was a masochist.
“You’re ready. Then, the moment Nayoon-nim steps through that door, the human rights of the person ‘Lee Nayoon’ will be considered fully stripped.”
“…Yes.”
“Once inside you may neither speak nor act without permission. If you need to address this officer, raise your head and meet my eyes. All answers will be given by nodding or shaking your head. Understood?”
“…Yes. I understand.”
“Then I will open the door. Leave every human right behind and enter.”
— Whirr.
A motor hummed and the door slid open. Unlike the coated exterior, the interior was surprisingly bright. Accustomed to the darkness of the vestibule, I was momentarily blinded. Still, I could hesitate no longer. I had already taken too long; my frayed nerves alone threatened to exhaust me.
Right. Now… it truly begins.
“….”
I carefully lifted a foot. One step was enough to cross the threshold. In that same instant, human rights were stripped away.
“Temporary inmate. From this moment you are 921A-1.”
“…Yes.”
— Crack!
Huh…?
Sparks seemed to burst before my eyes. The moment I answered, the man raised his hand and struck my cheek. Hard enough to whip my head around.
“You idiot. Who gave you permission to speak? I’ll let it slide this once because it’s your first time, but be careful from now on!”
“….”
Instead of answering I nodded. I had nearly said “Yes, I understand.” It hurt. My cheek burned….
Hearing the guard’s suddenly coarse speech and receiving casual violence, I understood in an instant that I had become something less than human.
“You’ll sit all the way in the back. Follow.”
“….”
The bus was empty. The simple interior had long benches running left and right with a central aisle. The guard pointed to the rearmost seat. I sat where indicated—a plain chair without even armrests.
“From now until we pick up the remaining transport subjects and head for the destination, you will stay quiet.”
“….”
“By the way, those tits are pretty big. Nice and firm, too. Face isn’t bad either—why the hell would you want this kind of treatment? Boyfriend not satisfying you?”
“…!”
I almost snapped that I had never even had a boyfriend, but the guard’s greedy eyes forced me to erase the thought itself. The moment I sat he began kneading my breasts. His rough hands showed not a shred of consideration.
It hurts!
He did not stop at mere groping; he pinched the nipples between his fingers and crushed the entire breast in his grip. The pain and humiliation far exceeded anything I had imagined.
“Hey! Don’t squirm. Forgot the order not to move without permission? Still don’t understand your place… keep acting like that and it’ll only get worse for you.”
“…!! …!”
Threats… how could he…!
It hurts. Stop groping. Don’t press so hard!
I swallowed every word I wanted to scream, and instead had to thrust my chest forward. The terror that another slap might come if I resisted froze my body solid. There was no escape. All I could do was endure.
“That’s right. Just like that. Heh heh. And look at that—getting felt up like this and your nipples are still standing. Mazo bitches really do react different.”
Don’t say things like that…!
Hngh! Don’t flick my nipples with your fingers…!
“Face is turning red. Ooh, pretty sensitive little bitch, aren’t you? Just this much touching and you’re already biting your lip. Or is it pure embarrassment? Heh heh.”
Whatever amused him so much, the guard kept fondling my breasts for a long while, deliberately targeting the nipples and savoring every flinch he drew from me.
Stop…! I said stop.
“Sniff sniff. What’s this~? Getting wet already? That smell’s exactly it. Heh heh. You’re a real killer of a bitch. Just groping your tits and your cunt’s already dripping?”
Don’t say that…!
While I sat twitching under his hands, the guard flared his nostrils and stroked the tops of my thighs. Just as he claimed, a fishy scent hung around my body. It could not be helped. No matter how shameful or humiliating it felt, once stimulation arrived the fluid would gather—pure chemistry, nothing more.
So it absolutely was not because I was feeling pleasure. It was just… just…!
“…!!”
Head bowed under the twin assaults of stimulation and shame, I felt the guard’s hand shove between my thighs.
No. Not there…!
The sensation of soft thigh flesh being forced apart made me look up at him in desperate appeal.
“What? Got something you want to say? Fine, I’ll allow it. What do you want? Want me to finger that cunt?”
I had only looked up in shock, yet the guard mistook it for a request to speak and granted me the right. The first speaking privilege since my rights had been stripped, granted so soon.
“Ah… I….”
But the unexpected timing left me unable to form proper words. At the very least I wanted to beg him to stop, to pull his hand away. That desire existed, yet the outcome was all too clear. If I spoke I would be punished, wouldn’t I? But if I stayed silent… his hand would keep violating me….
What do I do? What should I do?
The conflict repeated, yet my mouth would not open. That single slap from moments ago had shoved me into an unknown terror.
“….”
Ah, what do I do. I shouldn’t have raised my head…!
Regret surged like a tide, and in the end I could only hang my head low again.
“….”
“What? You were just staring? Trying to confuse me on purpose? Tch. Mood’s ruined. Forget it. Hoo. Hey! Hobbs! Is the next inmate ready yet?”
Huu… thank goodness.
Fortunately the guard read the situation, did not wait for an answer, and simply called to his partner as he stepped back. As a result I was freed from his hands.
…Yet this treatment was only the beginning.