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Three clear tanks stood near the wall to the right. Round, each with a naked person submerged in water and forced to breathe through a snorkel clipped in place at the top. Two women and one man. They were awake, could see the people coming in, but could not move, as they were bound wrist and ankle to the frame they were standing on. So the metal fame came to the top of the tank. They climbed up the steps on the side and stood there and were bound by clips and cuffs. The snorkel was put in and they were lowered to the right depth. The lid was put on and the top of the snorkel put in place. They could drown themselves just by spitting out the mouthpiece if they wanted.
Behind her were two cages, both empty. She was put into one of them. Cold steel bottom, padlocked, and the escort and guard left. The door was shut and locked. Looking around more, she saw three cameras. One aimed directly at the tanks, another at the cages and the third at the left corner. A hose was wound around a hook. A large hose, like firemen used, with a big tapered nozzle. There were several drains in the floor. Near the corner, in the middle, between the tanks.
There wasn’t anything to do but wait. She could be here minutes or hours before anyone came to do anything. There never were any clocks in any of the rooms she was left in for long periods. Not even her own bedroom cell.
She was there a long time when the door suddenly opened. The President came in wearing scuba pants, boots and gloves, but no shirt. A group of six guards followed. Two went to the first tank and activated the lift mechanism to bring the person up out of the water. With gravity returned, the woman had to sit on the top step and scoot herself down the steps to the floor. Her guards stood with her while the second pair got the man out. He was stronger, able to walk down on shaking legs. The third scooted herself down and lay in a curled heap on the floor, shaking and crying.
“The next time you want to fight a member in the pool, you remember this punishment. You’ll be here twice as long, if you’re allowed to live at all. Take them back to the Death Block.”
The room emptied and there he was staring down at her inside the cage.
“You again,” he said. “You just can’t seem to keep your hands off your own cunt, can you. I have a different sort of punishment for you. We’ll see if this one gets the message across.”
Padlock opened an d he used a short whip to drive her to the corner.
“Sit in the corner,” he told her. “Face me.”
She saw there were clear plastic straps attached to the wall. Her arms were strapped first and then around the bottom of her thighs, holding her wide open on the cold, rough cement floor. He went to the roll of hose, unwinding it the full length and then turning the valve. The hose filled and he picked up the nozzle. Pointing to the wall, he opened the nozzle and adjusted the water until he had a fast mist. Cold water, and she shrieked and broke out into goose bumps as he wet her down. The spray concentrated downward, as he aimed lower and lower and adjusted the spray to a smaller and smaller diameter.
Then she was screaming a new sort of overstimulation as the hard, fast spray relentlessly pounded the flesh of her open vagina. Exhilarating but painful and she couldn’t angle her knees in to protect herself. Narrowing the stream, he aimed directly for her anus. Spraying up and down those few inches felt like he was spraying her entire torso as the water splashed all over her. Water flew with velocity in all directions, including into her eyes. She kept them closed. Water flowed from around her buttocks and back toward the drain. Drips ran down her thighs and breasts. Her hair became heavy with water and a single long drip tickled down the side of her nose. A hard toss of her head shook it off.
Several minutes and he closed the nozzle.
“Is that little cum at night before you fall asleep worth this, cunt?”
“It is at the time,” she sputtered.
And got herself another five minute drenching and pounding.
“Is that little cum at night before you fall asleep worth this, cunt?” he asked again when the water stopped.
“No, Master!” she chose to answer rather than give a smart reply again.
He turned off the water and opened the nozzle to empty the hose onto her.
“Keep it in mind.”
Excerpt is from Have Your Cake, story 1 in the Culpation League series.
TylerRose. is known as Dame Tyler in the NYC public SM/Fetish scene. She is an award-winning author who has written two “lifestyle”, four cartoon, and twentysomething fiction books.
Read her books on her Amazon page — https://www.amazon.com/TylerRose./e/B00HCPLSP2
You can also find more of her OP/ED work in Fetlife: https://fetlife.com/users/305828
She enjoys crocheting and baking, and will no doubt die with a thesaurus open on her thigh.
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