Transport
How long had it been?
Even after boarding the bus alone, I remained locked inside by myself for quite some time. The windows were so heavily coated that nothing of the outside world could be seen, and without any scenery to mark the hours, the passage of time itself felt unreal.
"Gotta fuck a bitch like that… Tch. Shame we're stuck on a bus."
"Right? And the Mazo girls who've been coming in lately all have pretty faces. Ones with tits as big as hers are rare, though."
"Tell me about it. Transfer duty's the worst for that."
The guards' voices carried from just a few feet away. Their conversation was laced with crude language that would never be tolerated in ordinary society.
If I had heard words like that under normal circumstances, what would I have done? There was no need to think about it—I would have reported them. I would have been the first to file a complaint.
In a society that had grown so strict about sexual harassment and assault, language like this had become unthinkable. And yet inside this bus, it flowed as freely as breathing. The only difference was that it remained the exclusive privilege of the guards. Stripped of my human rights, I had no choice but to keep my mouth shut.
Listening to them, I felt the full weight of how far I had fallen—sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss. I worried that even meeting their eyes might give them an excuse to pick a fight.
Right. Keep your head down.
When I lowered my gaze, I saw the handprints still left on my breasts. He had groped them so roughly that the red marks remained, vivid against my skin. And yet… they were still standing. Even after that miserable ordeal, my stimulated nipples had not settled. If anything, they looked even more swollen and plump than before.
At the time, his touch had been humiliating and repulsive—but if I was honest with myself, I could not claim there had been no excitement at all. This was exactly what I had wanted. A body thrown at the mercy of someone's coercive violation, its masochistic nature filling it with sexual satisfaction.
Naked, both hands bound. That single fact alone was enough to change the rhythm of my breathing. I had not even properly begun my life as an inmate, and yet this body—twenty-two years of suppressed masochistic desire—was utterly helpless and weak before stimulation.
"Alright. Second one."
"This one's B-Class, right? Come on, let's bring her in."
After a long while, the bus came to a stop and the guards stepped outside. Alone again in the quiet cabin, time drifted by in silence.
A moment later, the second door in front of me opened and a woman stepped inside.
"Temporary inmate. From this moment on, you are 921B-1. Go sit next to the naked prisoner over there."
"…Yes. Understood."
"Stay quiet until we arrive. Don't make too much noise. If you need something, call us by your temporary inmate number and say, 'Officer. I have a request.' Got it?"
"Yes."
The woman who had entered followed the guard's instructions and sat down beside me. Before settling in, she glanced at me, then looked around, turning her head this way and that.
But… why wasn't she naked?
I stole a look to the side. Her appearance was nothing like mine. She was still wearing what seemed to be her ordinary clothes, and both of her hands were free. Come to think of it—hadn't she spoken when she came in?
Even the treatment was different. Unlike me, forced to keep my mouth shut and my head bowed, she was allowed to speak and even had the right to call for a guard. I had been slapped across the face for the simplest reply… and now, with the burning heat still lingering on my cheek from that hard blow, watching her like this filled me with both confusion and a bitter sense of unfairness.
Then—
"Um… hello. Nice to meet you. Fellow inmates, I guess? Hehe."
The woman who had been looking around called out to me as I sat with my head down. At the unexpected address, I looked up at her. Her expression was bright with anticipation. When our eyes met, she smiled and leaned toward me, questions tumbling out one after another like a chain.
"So, it's my first time—would it be okay if I asked a few things?"
"…."
"You're completely naked—is that an option too? Weird~ When I had my consultation, there was nothing about that. Hey, why are you naked? Ah!~ And look, you're even handcuffed! Does it really differ from person to person…?"
"…."
This woman had definitely scored a severe E—extraversion—on any MBTI test. Even though we had just met, she kept talking without pause. Watching me fail to answer and still pressing on with the conversation, she clearly had no sense of reading the room either.
Please. Stop asking.
I bit my lip against her questions. I was terrified of being overheard if I spoke, and in a situation where I could barely even move my eyes, that was all I could do.
"Hmm? Can you not talk? Ah… is that it?"
"…."
"Hey. Are you mute?"
Hah—
What a strange woman. The way she so casually said things that shouldn't be said made it clear she wasn't just dense—she was missing basic decency. Even if she felt ignored, speaking to a stranger like this on first meeting was grating beyond belief.
And honestly… this woman. I had been trying to let it slide, but the longer I stayed quiet, the more she seemed to take me for a pushover. Her remarks kept escalating, and I could no longer simply sit and listen. I risked shooting her a few pointed looks, but it was useless.
"Hah, hey. Are you ignoring me right now? Seriously. Hey! I can't stand being ignored. What? Why are you glaring at me?"
"…."
She had taken my look—meant to tell her to stop—as a provocation. Her voice rose as she glared at me from the side. She had completely crossed the line. This was no longer something I could just endure.
In that awkward situation, I carefully lifted my head and checked our surroundings. Fortunately, the guards were nowhere in sight. They had probably locked her inside and left to collect other inmates.
Then this was my only chance.
Confirming that only the two of us remained on the bus, I quietly raised my head and spoke to her.
"Please be quiet."
"…Huh? Oh…. So you can talk. Hey. So you were ignoring me on purpose?"
Ugh. So irritating. But I never got the chance to say another word.
— Zhing.
The moment her sentence ended, the bus door opened and a guard stepped inside. It was the same one who had slapped me earlier—Machia. I hurriedly dropped my head before our eyes could meet.
"921A-1."
Huh? Why is he calling me? I looked away…
"Speaking without permission? I warned you in advance, and you still disobey orders. Looks like you still don't understand your place."
"…!"
What? I had spoken so quietly that only the woman beside me should have heard… How did he know?
— Smack!
"…Ngh!"
But that thought would have to wait. The guard grabbed a fistful of my hair and slapped me across the face. Harder than before. His broad palm cracked against my cheek, and my head snapped weakly to the side. And this time, it was not over.
— Smack!
"Ugh…!"
"Hey. 921A-1. Did you really think you wouldn't get caught? Everything inside this bus is set up so that even the sound of a tiny bug flying reaches us. So what, you figured as long as you don't get caught, it's fine? Was that it? Huh?"
— Smack!
"Kyaah…!"
Only then did I understand why I was being hit. But understanding mattered far less than enduring the pain itself.
— Smack!
Ugh! It hurts.
First the right cheek. Then the left. And a third—
— Smack!
"…Ngh…!"
Kyah! The slaps came alternating left and right. Forbidden by order from screaming, I clenched my teeth and took them.
— Smack!
"Ghh…!"
Haa… it hurts. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to ride out the pain, but it was hard. His hand came without hesitation, without mercy.
— Smack!
"…Ngh!"
Only about three on each side—six in total—and both cheeks were already swelling. I tasted blood in my mouth. Just a few more and it would be over, right? Endure it. Just a little longer…!
Then, without warning, a hand closed around my throat.
"…Ghhk!"
"Hey. Who told you to make noise? Hold it in."
"…!! …!"
My empty hope that a little more endurance would get me through shattered instantly. The same hand that had been striking my face seized my neck and pressed hard against my windpipe from both sides.
"…! …!"
Ghhk. I'm going to die. He was choking me as if he truly meant to kill me, and I could not breathe. Blood rushed to my face until it felt ready to burst. Even with my mouth open, no oxygen came in. All I could do was thrash.
I gasped and gaped, desperate for air. Air—I wanted air. I worked my mouth open and shut, fighting to live, but I could not draw a single breath. My oxygen-starved lungs burned as if they would rupture, and my constricted throat felt ready to snap. My head, flooded with blood, was no better.
— Thud. Click thud!
I don't want to die!
I thrust my cuffed hands forward in resistance, but the hands pinned behind my back and jutting out beside my chest were useless. The more I struggled, the harder the guard's grip crushed my throat.
In the grip of genuine terror that I was about to die, my hair whipped wildly and cast a dark curtain over my vision—and only then did the guard release his hold.
"Ghhk…! Khek…! Haaah…! Hah…! Hah…!"
Air flooded into my lungs all at once. I tasted blood in my throat, and spit that had nowhere to go spilled from the corner of my mouth.
"921A-1. Permission to speak is granted. Answer me."
"Hah… haaah… khek…!"
"Can't answer?"
— Thud!
"Ghh…!! Khek…! Yes! I'll answer… I'll answer…! Ugh…!"
All I had done was speak a single word. And then fail to answer. The price was enormous. My throat had been squeezed until red welts marked it, and my cheeks were swollen from the beating. At the end, an abdominal punch forced me to curl in on myself as I received his orders.
All of this had happened less than an hour after boarding the bus.
"From now on, kneel on the floor and press your forehead to the ground! If you lift your forehead or speak again, you'd better be ready. Understood?"
"Yes!"
Terrified of a worse punishment, I shouted it at once. I was so frightened I thought I might die. Every word, every movement felt like an excuse for him to close his hand around my throat again.
"Down!"
"Yes!"
At his command, I dropped to the floor at once. I brought my legs together, knelt, and bent at the waist until my forehead touched the ground. The floor was ice-cold. The chill climbing through my shins and forehead made my body tremble. Or was it simply the shaking of my own fear?
— Thud.
Something settled onto my back. Something rough and heavy, pressing down on my body.
"An A-Class inmate after so long, and you're already like this? Hmm? Listen carefully and stay out of trouble on the way. From now on, no vocalization again. If you so much as let out a single wrong moan, next time I'll beat you until you pass out. So be careful."
I didn't need to look. The guard had planted his boot on my back and was retying his shoelace. In an instant, I had been reduced to his footrest. The texture of the sole traveled down my spine and through my entire body. Even the slightest shift of his weight made the humiliation and pain of being stepped on feel unbearably wretched.
It hurts. And my legs are going numb.
The guard's foot was withdrawn soon enough, but the real hardship began then. The bus was vibration-free, so keeping my balance was not difficult—but holding such an uncomfortable position was torment in itself. On top of that, the crushing pressure was unbearable. My breasts, squeezed to bursting between my bent torso and my knees, created a tightness so severe it made breathing difficult, wracking my body with misery.
The aftermath of that single word I had spat out in a fit of irritation went on and on.
"…I'm sorry."
The woman's voice from the neighboring seat reached me near the back of my head. Even she, dense as she was, had been forced into reflection by how completely the guard controlled the atmosphere. The apology came far too late—but regret over having spoken at all weighed heavier on me, so I simply listened in silence. From the moment my forehead touched the floor, I had become a being incapable of any expression… and right now, there was nothing else I could do.
"…."
If there was any small mercy, it was that after saying she was sorry, the woman beside me did not try to speak to me again.
Time continued to pass. Just how far was this bus going? We had been driving for ages, yet the bus only stopped from time to time. And I remained the same. I had held that miserable posture for so long, but because we had not yet reached our destination, my punishment continued unchanged.
Even as more inmates were added—even as they saw me in the process—the guards did not release me. The cabin temperature was on the low side, but because I was curled in on myself, sweat gathered wherever skin pressed against skin. Conversely, my forehead against the freezing floor felt as if it were icing over, and my shins had gone numb.
Haa… ugh. I forced down the pained moans that rose with every breath, swallowing them again and again. The moment of release did not come easily. I wanted nothing more than to meet a guard's eyes and beg for forgiveness, but with my forehead pressed to the floor, even that was impossible. Unable to speak, unable to send a glance, all I could do was hope for the guards' mercy.
Ugh… it's unbearable. Please… stop already.
My whole body trembled hard enough to bring tears to my eyes. For some reason—perhaps because I had never knelt for so long—my body simply could not hold out. My legs had lost all sensation, and the long hair spilled across the floor only grew damper as sweat mixed with the moisture of tears.
Please. Please…. If they would just let me up, I felt I could do anything. I clasped the hands fixed behind my back and forced myself to endure, but I had truly reached my limit. An order I had thought was nothing special had become a form of torture I never imagined. I had thought that simply lying face-down would be enough. But an order armed with the weapon of time was slowly eating away at my mind.
"A921-1. Raise your head and straighten your back."
Then it came. Machia stepped in front of me and gave the command. How long I had been waiting for those words. I clenched my teeth and forced my body up. With both hands bound behind my back and my waist stiffened from so long in that position, it was not easy—but I wrung out every last scrap of strength to escape the pain and straightened my spine.
"What did you do to sweat this much?"
"…."
The question was almost casual. I nearly answered. My lips parted—then I hurriedly bit down and held still. He seemed to like that. Machia helped me to my feet.
Kyaah!
But the method was vicious. I bit my lip even harder to stop the scream from bursting free.
"…!! …!!"
"Holding up well, aren't you? I figured a dumb bitch would scream right away, but you're not a complete idiot."
Machia hauled me upright by pinching and yanking both of my nipples. With my legs so numb that nearly all my weight hung from those two points, it was an act of pure cruelty. It hurts. It hurts so much. Tears welled, and only after my nipples had been pulled white did I finally manage to stand. My legs shook violently, and tears flooded my vision until I could not see ahead.
"We'll be arriving soon, so sit in the seat."
"…!!"
Ugh!
Finished speaking, the guard shoved me by the nipples he still held and dumped me into the chair. I landed hard, as if thrown, treated worse than an object. My whole body throbbed and ached. Sprawled without strength, I panted under the accumulated pain as the guard looked around and spoke.
"We'll be arriving shortly. B-Class and C-Class inmates, form a single line in the middle!"
The moment his words ended, the bus came to a stop.