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Description
The floor was icy on Cassie’s damp, bare soles, dust-stained, still slick with the same sheen of perspiration that had, up until less than an hour ago, had been an oppressive and virtually permanent aspect of her body. The tiny cell had been stiflingly hot, a little metal box within which she had been confined for the six weeks since her arrest. Six months locked in a coffin-sized tomb, steel cuffs effectively welding her wrists together behind her back, clipped to the wall by a padlock which had forced her to sit up against it, bare feet locked in heavy steel leg irons which, while untethered, gave her no impression of freedom. The collar, too had been locked by a short chain to the wall behind her, leashed and pinned. Six weeks bound and gagged and utterly alone - with nobody to hear her screams and cries when the panic overwhelmed her, nobody to ever give her some idea as to when - if ever - her torment and isolation would be allowed to end.

But it was over now. Or so it seemed. They had taken her from the cell, impassive guards wordlessly releasing her from the cruel bondage that had kept her in virtual immobility. They had left her hands cuffed behind her back, left the heavy manacles on her ankles, and left the spittle-soaked bit gag wedged uncomfortably between her teeth where it had been for almost two months straight. They had told her nothing, reacted not at all to her timidly querying sounds, muffled by the invasive bit. She had stayed mostly quiet then, for fear that anything but total obedience would get her locked away again.

Not that she had been anything short of a model prisoner for the duration of her State mandated captivity. She hadn’t resisted at all when the contractors stormed the ship, taken totally by surprise as she was thrown from her usual seat at the navigation terminal, arms yanked behind her, gag shoved brutally into her mouth before she could think to utter so much as an ‘I surrender’. She had been too terrified to even think of resistance - and even if she hadn’t, the idea would never have crossed her mind. Cassie was not some hardened criminal. That did not make her innocent of the convictions for which she had been imprisoned - namely, working Navigations and Programming on a starship which had been designated a terrorist threat - but she was still entirely docile. Timid, even. Had the girl ever truly understood the gravity of her involvement with the crew she had spent her later teenage years with she likely would have left them years before - but the illegality of their operations had never played too much a part in Cassie’s life. It was like pirating media - the sort of thing she never expected would actually come back to bite her...And certainly not like this. Yet here she was, silently praying that maybe, just maybe her compliance and good behavior might get her...something.

Maybe she was going to be locked away again regardless. Maybe they were just heading to a new, permanent cell. Maybe they were taking her to the Facility to entomb her for the rest of time itself.

But for the moment, Cassie could relish the sensation of walking. The cramping was mostly gone now, her first few steps having been ungodly agony. The weight of the shackles on her ankles felt only natural now, and the soreness of her forcibly opened jaw and aching feet were simply parts of her. The metal collar - which had effectively humiliated her into feeling like some kind of animal - hung heavily from her neck, chafing her exposed collarbones. A sturdy chain dangled from the collar, welded permanently to the front.

There was enough of a sense of humor in her to find it wryly funny that despite everything, Cassie found herself focusing more on how fucking cold she was rather than simply appreciating the ‘fresh’ air. But she was cold. Like some cruel genie granting her a wish with perverted consequences, the sweat-dampened white T shirt and denim shorts she had been arrested in all those weeks ago clung to her lithe body, icy cold and wet against her pale skin. The girl had never become accustomed to the stifling heat of her tiny prison - it had been pure torture from the moment the hot air had wafted over her face as they locked her away, but her body must have come to expect the discomfort and now simply could not tolerate the atmosphere which to everyone else would be moderately, even refreshingly cool at most.

She wanted a sweatshirt. A warm, soft hoodie to wrap around her shivering bare arms and faintly trembling shoulders. More than that, Cassie wanted some kind of human contact. Some kind, friendly person to wrap her up in their arms and tell her that the nightmare was over now, that she wasn’t going to be punished any more. That she had paid for her crimes and was free to go, almost as if it had all been nothing but a terrible dream.

Not that the desire was any more than the most outlandish of fantasies, one she had gone despairingly over again and again in her isolation, made more powerful now by the sight of other living, breathing people. No, there was no sympathy for Cassie, no mercy. She was guilty of the crime she had been locked away for - active involvement in a small rebel faction of terrorists actively bent on overthrowing the empire - and so there would be no mercy. Nobody was quite sure how the authorities had caught on but that didn’t matter. She may have only been a navigations programmer on the ship, but she was still one of them. She had actively participated in their criminal activities, and now she was paying for it.

First by sweating in unending physical strain, locked in a metal coffin and all but forgotten for six weeks - now by being led, barefoot, shackled and shivering, through mysterious corridors to be sneered at by hateful passers by. She was a pathetic sight indeed, Cassie knew, and found herself blushing faintly at the humiliation of it all. She was glad that her electric blue hair at least did something to hide her, distract the eye from the humiliation on her otherwise pale face. Not that it could do anything for the thin trail of saliva extending from her bottom lip, but it was better than nothing. Not that any of it mattered at all.

To say that Cassie’s heart leaped when she saw him would have been not only an understatement, but a fallacy altogether. It soared. It hit her in the face with such force that she gasped wetly behind her gag.

Dylan. Her boyfriend of some two years back on the ship. They’d been talking about getting married just before the ship was taken, and the crew arrested. She didn't think she’d ever see him again, and yet here he was, standing there, free as could be and smiling a soft, knowing smile that she was plenty familiar with. The guards released her and stepped back. Cassie stayed rooted in place, stunned. Dylan stepped closer, hands held casually behind his back.

Entranced, Cassie was helpless but to stare into his eyes, her gaze locked to his with the same immovable force as her chained wrists and ankles. There was no hope of noticing so insignificant a detail as the strange way he was dressed. Not while, for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Cassie felt the warm glow of an unfamiliar, but not forgotten sensation in her chest.

Love.

This must have been a dream. She must have passed out again in a panic, her mind escaping into the fantasy of fantasies. It was practically a cliché - her, the helpless damsel in distress, held captive - him, come to rescue her from her entrapment to whisk her away to freedom. Yet as Cassie stared into those warm eyes of his, freedom was not that which dominated her thoughts. Indeed, all she could think about was how utterly amazing it would feel to press up against him, to feel his arms wrap around her and make her feel safe and warm - a loving touch was something she had begun to expect never to experience again, and yet here it was, standing inches from her. Any moment now he was going to sweep her up and hold her and tell her he loved her and that everything was going to be okay now. There was no other possibility - she could see in his face that he was happy, a faint grin on his lips, a look in his eyes as though he were anticipating something excellent to happen.

The couple stared at each other for a long moment before, without even realizing it, Cassie made a sound. A tiny “Ngh~” that she wasn’t even sure what it was supposed to mean. “Hey, Blue.” Dylan replied, Cassie’s heart melting as he used a pet name she’d never expected to hear again. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t lunge into his arms right then and there, cuffs and gag and all. It simply hadn’t occurred to her, having spent so much time locked in place and unable to move that actually moving had fallen out of the way of instinct. She just stood there, still faintly shivering, waiting for him to make that first move. Silently begging for it with her eyes. Looking up at him with such overwhelming love and admiration.

The moment lingered for an eternity. Cassie began to squirm, wondering if he was teasing her - he had done that, playfully, in the past. She bit down softly on the gag wedged between her teeth, silently hoping to bring his attention to it that he might remove it. And he did. One hand reached around her and, without even realizing it, Cassie’s gag was slipped out from her mouth, dripping with spit. Only when Dylan dismissively tossed the thing over his shoulder did she consciously realize that for the first time in months she was not gagged. The gag was a part of her now. Part of her body. A permanent fixture. To have it removed felt liberating, but also utterly strange. Like something was missing. She almost didn’t like it. Almost wanted it back. But that was insane and she wasn’t about to let herself fall victim to that sort of Stockholm Syndrome. Or any for that matter.
There was nothing impeding her speech. Nothing keeping her from closing her mouth, relieving her permanently aching jaw.

Yet Cassie’s lips remained parted, breathing softly, warmly, as the whole core of her being pleaded for that kiss. She was frozen, awed and helplessly stunned - the time had finally come that nothing could stop her from saying whatever she wanted, and yet she was speechless.

It felt like a dream. It had to be a dream - but she didn’t care anymore. She just wanted him to kiss her, To hold her. To let her feel the warmth of his hands on her skin, between her still slick body and the icy, soaked-through clothes that clung to her like a curse. The soft brush of his fingers as he drew a sweat-soaked lock of hair over her ear. She needed it more than she’d ever needed anything in her life.

Consistent with the dreamlike passage of time and awareness, she was aware of the soft tug of the metal collar at her neck as he gently grasped the length of chain that dangled from its welded ring. She felt as he lifted it, using the heavy leash to pull her up, the collar pressing up against her jaw as she was made to look up at him.

Cassie allowed the upward pull to lift her up onto her tiptoes - willing, though her consent would not be necessary. He could do anything to her right now. She could not and would not stop him. Dylan bent over only slightly, always keeping their eyes unequivocally locked, making Cassie do all the work of stretching up, arching her back, struggling with only the upward pull on her neck to assist. She didn’t mind. He could make her work for it. He could make her do anything. She would happily be his slave if it meant being held and loved and not locked away again. They could lock those unbreakable, permanent tantalite shackles on her for the rest of her life if it meant being his.

She soft warmth of Dylan’s breath on her face as she craned her neck toward him was intoxicating. Tantalizing in the classical sense. So close. There was a spark of desperation in her eyes when she realized that it was going to be physically impossible to reach him. That she was going to be at his mercy. That she would be kissed only if he chose to kiss her.

But he would, right? Of course he would. Why else would he be here? He had to. He HAD to!

Cassie felt Dylan’s lips brush ever so faintly against hers. She strained to stay on her toes, every muscle taut, back arched, hands balled into fists cuffed behind her.

Dylan kissed Cassie.

It was easily the most incredible, explosive sensation she had ever experienced. To go so long in solitude and agony to this - it was indescribable. Electric fusion, sparks and the crackling of raw energy. Like falling into-

It lasted less than a second. Dylan pulled away. The startled dismay had barely registered on Cassie’s flushed face before she saw, then felt the thick, glossy red ball gag as it was forced into her open mouth. He tugged her harshly toward him with the hand gripping the chain in the same motion as forcing in the gag, making her choke and sputter. It wrenched her jaw open wider than the bit had and felt doubly invasive. Cassie let out a muffled cry of uncomprehending fear. A shocked, throaty sound that wouldn’t have been an actual word even had she not been gagged. Eyes like saucers stared up at Dylan with heartbreaking betrayal and terror as he released the chain and calmly, but swiftly locked the ball gag’s strap around the back of her head. At once his expression had gone from warm and anticipatory to cruel and disdainful to a level she hadn’t even known him capable.

Cassie sagged, trembling more visibly, knees buckled slightly inward as she gaped up at him with teary eyes, not understanding why this was happening, why he was doing this. Suddenly unable to control her breathing, Cassie was too panicked and confused to actually sob. Dylan just sneered down at the girl in her whirling despair. “I always did think you’d look better in a ball gag.” he said conversationally, his casual demeanor in itself making a mockery of Cassie’s tumultuous agony. ”You always did talk too much.” When the realization dawned in her stricken eyes it was subtle, but perceptible - the realization of why she had absently noted that he seemed to be dressed oddly.

He was wearing a State officer’s uniform.

“It’s too bad, really.” He mused, his tone the equivalent of absently checking his fingernails for effect without actually moving. “I might have actually liked you if you hadn’t been terrorist scum.”

Dylan was twisting the knife and reveling in Cassie’s silent screams as the dreadful fact that not only had he never loved her, but he actively despised her, set in. The heartbreak was a physical blow, a fire in her chest that made her understand where the word itself had originated.

Abruptly dismissive, Dylan suddenly turned away, vaguely acknowledging the two guards who had been standing there behind her the whole time, waiting for the order to roughly grab her by the arms. Desperate, Cassie yelped out another unintelligible sound from behind her gag-stuffed mouth. It was vaguely identifiable as some sort of question, though as with everything else it wouldn’t have had words even if she’d been permitted to speak. Just a general exclamation of panicky confusion. “For old time’s sake.” Dylan answered with an aimless gesture of one hand as he turned his back on her to begin casually strolling back down the hall. But before he’d made it more than a couple steps the man paused. “Besides.” He added, the word thick with satisfaction as he half turned back toward the panting, trembling, heartbroken prisoner.

“It’s the last chance I’m ever going to get.”

Description
The floor was icy on Cassie’s damp, bare soles, dust-stained, still slick with the same sheen of perspiration that had, up until less than an hour ago, had been an oppressive and virtually permanent aspect of her body. The tiny cell had been stiflingly hot, a little metal box within which she had been confined for the six weeks since her arrest. Six months locked in a coffin-sized tomb, steel cuffs effectively welding her wrists together behind her back, clipped to the wall by a padlock which had forced her to sit up against it, bare feet locked in heavy steel leg irons which, while untethered, gave her no impression of freedom. The collar, too had been locked by a short chain to the wall behind her, leashed and pinned. Six weeks bound and gagged and utterly alone - with nobody to hear her screams and cries when the panic overwhelmed her, nobody to ever give her some idea as to when - if ever - her torment and isolation would be allowed to end.

But it was over now. Or so it seemed. They had taken her from the cell, impassive guards wordlessly releasing her from the cruel bondage that had kept her in virtual immobility. They had left her hands cuffed behind her back, left the heavy manacles on her ankles, and left the spittle-soaked bit gag wedged uncomfortably between her teeth where it had been for almost two months straight. They had told her nothing, reacted not at all to her timidly querying sounds, muffled by the invasive bit. She had stayed mostly quiet then, for fear that anything but total obedience would get her locked away again.

Not that she had been anything short of a model prisoner for the duration of her State mandated captivity. She hadn’t resisted at all when the contractors stormed the ship, taken totally by surprise as she was thrown from her usual seat at the navigation terminal, arms yanked behind her, gag shoved brutally into her mouth before she could think to utter so much as an ‘I surrender’. She had been too terrified to even think of resistance - and even if she hadn’t, the idea would never have crossed her mind. Cassie was not some hardened criminal. That did not make her innocent of the convictions for which she had been imprisoned - namely, working Navigations and Programming on a starship which had been designated a terrorist threat - but she was still entirely docile. Timid, even. Had the girl ever truly understood the gravity of her involvement with the crew she had spent her later teenage years with she likely would have left them years before - but the illegality of their operations had never played too much a part in Cassie’s life. It was like pirating media - the sort of thing she never expected would actually come back to bite her...And certainly not like this. Yet here she was, silently praying that maybe, just maybe her compliance and good behavior might get her...something.

Maybe she was going to be locked away again regardless. Maybe they were just heading to a new, permanent cell. Maybe they were taking her to the Facility to entomb her for the rest of time itself.

But for the moment, Cassie could relish the sensation of walking. The cramping was mostly gone now, her first few steps having been ungodly agony. The weight of the shackles on her ankles felt only natural now, and the soreness of her forcibly opened jaw and aching feet were simply parts of her. The metal collar - which had effectively humiliated her into feeling like some kind of animal - hung heavily from her neck, chafing her exposed collarbones. A sturdy chain dangled from the collar, welded permanently to the front.

There was enough of a sense of humor in her to find it wryly funny that despite everything, Cassie found herself focusing more on how fucking cold she was rather than simply appreciating the ‘fresh’ air. But she was cold. Like some cruel genie granting her a wish with perverted consequences, the sweat-dampened white T shirt and denim shorts she had been arrested in all those weeks ago clung to her lithe body, icy cold and wet against her pale skin. The girl had never become accustomed to the stifling heat of her tiny prison - it had been pure torture from the moment the hot air had wafted over her face as they locked her away, but her body must have come to expect the discomfort and now simply could not tolerate the atmosphere which to everyone else would be moderately, even refreshingly cool at most.

She wanted a sweatshirt. A warm, soft hoodie to wrap around her shivering bare arms and faintly trembling shoulders. More than that, Cassie wanted some kind of human contact. Some kind, friendly person to wrap her up in their arms and tell her that the nightmare was over now, that she wasn’t going to be punished any more. That she had paid for her crimes and was free to go, almost as if it had all been nothing but a terrible dream.

Not that the desire was any more than the most outlandish of fantasies, one she had gone despairingly over again and again in her isolation, made more powerful now by the sight of other living, breathing people. No, there was no sympathy for Cassie, no mercy. She was guilty of the crime she had been locked away for - active involvement in a small rebel faction of terrorists actively bent on overthrowing the empire - and so there would be no mercy. Nobody was quite sure how the authorities had caught on but that didn’t matter. She may have only been a navigations programmer on the ship, but she was still one of them. She had actively participated in their criminal activities, and now she was paying for it.

First by sweating in unending physical strain, locked in a metal coffin and all but forgotten for six weeks - now by being led, barefoot, shackled and shivering, through mysterious corridors to be sneered at by hateful passers by. She was a pathetic sight indeed, Cassie knew, and found herself blushing faintly at the humiliation of it all. She was glad that her electric blue hair at least did something to hide her, distract the eye from the humiliation on her otherwise pale face. Not that it could do anything for the thin trail of saliva extending from her bottom lip, but it was better than nothing. Not that any of it mattered at all.

To say that Cassie’s heart leaped when she saw him would have been not only an understatement, but a fallacy altogether. It soared. It hit her in the face with such force that she gasped wetly behind her gag.

Dylan. Her boyfriend of some two years back on the ship. They’d been talking about getting married just before the ship was taken, and the crew arrested. She didn't think she’d ever see him again, and yet here he was, standing there, free as could be and smiling a soft, knowing smile that she was plenty familiar with. The guards released her and stepped back. Cassie stayed rooted in place, stunned. Dylan stepped closer, hands held casually behind his back.

Entranced, Cassie was helpless but to stare into his eyes, her gaze locked to his with the same immovable force as her chained wrists and ankles. There was no hope of noticing so insignificant a detail as the strange way he was dressed. Not while, for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Cassie felt the warm glow of an unfamiliar, but not forgotten sensation in her chest.

Love.

This must have been a dream. She must have passed out again in a panic, her mind escaping into the fantasy of fantasies. It was practically a cliché - her, the helpless damsel in distress, held captive - him, come to rescue her from her entrapment to whisk her away to freedom. Yet as Cassie stared into those warm eyes of his, freedom was not that which dominated her thoughts. Indeed, all she could think about was how utterly amazing it would feel to press up against him, to feel his arms wrap around her and make her feel safe and warm - a loving touch was something she had begun to expect never to experience again, and yet here it was, standing inches from her. Any moment now he was going to sweep her up and hold her and tell her he loved her and that everything was going to be okay now. There was no other possibility - she could see in his face that he was happy, a faint grin on his lips, a look in his eyes as though he were anticipating something excellent to happen.

The couple stared at each other for a long moment before, without even realizing it, Cassie made a sound. A tiny “Ngh~” that she wasn’t even sure what it was supposed to mean. “Hey, Blue.” Dylan replied, Cassie’s heart melting as he used a pet name she’d never expected to hear again. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t lunge into his arms right then and there, cuffs and gag and all. It simply hadn’t occurred to her, having spent so much time locked in place and unable to move that actually moving had fallen out of the way of instinct. She just stood there, still faintly shivering, waiting for him to make that first move. Silently begging for it with her eyes. Looking up at him with such overwhelming love and admiration.

The moment lingered for an eternity. Cassie began to squirm, wondering if he was teasing her - he had done that, playfully, in the past. She bit down softly on the gag wedged between her teeth, silently hoping to bring his attention to it that he might remove it. And he did. One hand reached around her and, without even realizing it, Cassie’s gag was slipped out from her mouth, dripping with spit. Only when Dylan dismissively tossed the thing over his shoulder did she consciously realize that for the first time in months she was not gagged. The gag was a part of her now. Part of her body. A permanent fixture. To have it removed felt liberating, but also utterly strange. Like something was missing. She almost didn’t like it. Almost wanted it back. But that was insane and she wasn’t about to let herself fall victim to that sort of Stockholm Syndrome. Or any for that matter.
There was nothing impeding her speech. Nothing keeping her from closing her mouth, relieving her permanently aching jaw.

Yet Cassie’s lips remained parted, breathing softly, warmly, as the whole core of her being pleaded for that kiss. She was frozen, awed and helplessly stunned - the time had finally come that nothing could stop her from saying whatever she wanted, and yet she was speechless.

It felt like a dream. It had to be a dream - but she didn’t care anymore. She just wanted him to kiss her, To hold her. To let her feel the warmth of his hands on her skin, between her still slick body and the icy, soaked-through clothes that clung to her like a curse. The soft brush of his fingers as he drew a sweat-soaked lock of hair over her ear. She needed it more than she’d ever needed anything in her life.

Consistent with the dreamlike passage of time and awareness, she was aware of the soft tug of the metal collar at her neck as he gently grasped the length of chain that dangled from its welded ring. She felt as he lifted it, using the heavy leash to pull her up, the collar pressing up against her jaw as she was made to look up at him.

Cassie allowed the upward pull to lift her up onto her tiptoes - willing, though her consent would not be necessary. He could do anything to her right now. She could not and would not stop him. Dylan bent over only slightly, always keeping their eyes unequivocally locked, making Cassie do all the work of stretching up, arching her back, struggling with only the upward pull on her neck to assist. She didn’t mind. He could make her work for it. He could make her do anything. She would happily be his slave if it meant being held and loved and not locked away again. They could lock those unbreakable, permanent tantalite shackles on her for the rest of her life if it meant being his.

She soft warmth of Dylan’s breath on her face as she craned her neck toward him was intoxicating. Tantalizing in the classical sense. So close. There was a spark of desperation in her eyes when she realized that it was going to be physically impossible to reach him. That she was going to be at his mercy. That she would be kissed only if he chose to kiss her.

But he would, right? Of course he would. Why else would he be here? He had to. He HAD to!

Cassie felt Dylan’s lips brush ever so faintly against hers. She strained to stay on her toes, every muscle taut, back arched, hands balled into fists cuffed behind her.

Dylan kissed Cassie.

It was easily the most incredible, explosive sensation she had ever experienced. To go so long in solitude and agony to this - it was indescribable. Electric fusion, sparks and the crackling of raw energy. Like falling into-

It lasted less than a second. Dylan pulled away. The startled dismay had barely registered on Cassie’s flushed face before she saw, then felt the thick, glossy red ball gag as it was forced into her open mouth. He tugged her harshly toward him with the hand gripping the chain in the same motion as forcing in the gag, making her choke and sputter. It wrenched her jaw open wider than the bit had and felt doubly invasive. Cassie let out a muffled cry of uncomprehending fear. A shocked, throaty sound that wouldn’t have been an actual word even had she not been gagged. Eyes like saucers stared up at Dylan with heartbreaking betrayal and terror as he released the chain and calmly, but swiftly locked the ball gag’s strap around the back of her head. At once his expression had gone from warm and anticipatory to cruel and disdainful to a level she hadn’t even known him capable.

Cassie sagged, trembling more visibly, knees buckled slightly inward as she gaped up at him with teary eyes, not understanding why this was happening, why he was doing this. Suddenly unable to control her breathing, Cassie was too panicked and confused to actually sob. Dylan just sneered down at the girl in her whirling despair. “I always did think you’d look better in a ball gag.” he said conversationally, his casual demeanor in itself making a mockery of Cassie’s tumultuous agony. ”You always did talk too much.” When the realization dawned in her stricken eyes it was subtle, but perceptible - the realization of why she had absently noted that he seemed to be dressed oddly.

He was wearing a State officer’s uniform.

“It’s too bad, really.” He mused, his tone the equivalent of absently checking his fingernails for effect without actually moving. “I might have actually liked you if you hadn’t been terrorist scum.”

Dylan was twisting the knife and reveling in Cassie’s silent screams as the dreadful fact that not only had he never loved her, but he actively despised her, set in. The heartbreak was a physical blow, a fire in her chest that made her understand where the word itself had originated.

Abruptly dismissive, Dylan suddenly turned away, vaguely acknowledging the two guards who had been standing there behind her the whole time, waiting for the order to roughly grab her by the arms. Desperate, Cassie yelped out another unintelligible sound from behind her gag-stuffed mouth. It was vaguely identifiable as some sort of question, though as with everything else it wouldn’t have had words even if she’d been permitted to speak. Just a general exclamation of panicky confusion. “For old time’s sake.” Dylan answered with an aimless gesture of one hand as he turned his back on her to begin casually strolling back down the hall. But before he’d made it more than a couple steps the man paused. “Besides.” He added, the word thick with satisfaction as he half turned back toward the panting, trembling, heartbroken prisoner.

“It’s the last chance I’m ever going to get.”