![]() As if not only to silence her but humiliate her a well, a bit gag, black and simple, sat between her gritting teeth with the leather strap wrapped around her head, locked with a padlock and impossible for her to remove. High above her, the judge glared right back. Two weeks prior, a similarly bound Stephanie, dressed in her casual jeans and T shirt but still barefoot, stood glaring silently at a jury of twelve angry men. It’s time for Stephanie to face her punishment. Again, no locking mechanism is apparent.Ī guard unlocks Stephanie’s handcuffs and thumb cuffs. It is in proportion to the cuffs, hanging from a similar 3 inch chain. They are slightly larger in diameter as well. Identical cuffs lay on the floor, centered and separated by only a foot or so. There is no visible locking mechanism on the thick cuffs. They hang from the very top of that back wall, separated by about five feet and hanging from six or so inches of heavy chain, which is bolted indefinitely into the steel wall from which they hang. The shackles consist of heavy cuffs, two inches in width and fairly thick. The tiniest whimper escapes her lips, but goes unnoticed by the guards. Stephanie looks at them anxiously, biting her lip and squirming in her restraints. Shiny steel shackles hang from the wall directly in front of them. This chamber, ceiling seven feet high with six feet of floor in any direction, is completely empty except for one object. Down that dark tunnel they go, until the end, when they reach a tiny, square room with a single light above that keeps the secluded space brightly lit. A commanding hand on the prisoner’s back, one guard pushes her down this corridor arms flush against the sides of the narrow wall. At the end, a second sliding door ascends. What it reveals is a second corridor, no more than two feet wide and some twenty feet long. There are no visible doors in this corridor, but remotely, from a control panel two miles above them on the surface, a small section of that wall slides into the ceiling. The corridor stretches endlessly ahead of Stephanie, but one guard behind her grabs her cuffed hands, signaling to stop - which she does silently. Their eyes are stern and relentless, their gait strong and determined, but not hurried. Short, tidy hair, subversion weapons hanging from their belts. These women are dressed in a light body armor, neat and uniform – like prison guards. She walks solemnly down that corridor, brightly lit with fluorescent lights in the ceiling, two women walking side by side behind her. It is unkempt and hangs partly in front of her eyes, a light, platinum blonde. ![]() Her skin is pale and radiant with youth, and her hair just above shoulder length. Above the shoulders from which that shirt hangs is an innocent face - big, blue eyes, a petit nose and small mouth. The sleeves of that shirt are short and don’t reach the girl’s elbows, which lead to dainty wrists that are bound behind her back with both a pair of shiny hinged cuffs, and a pair of thumb cuffs for added security. On the back, is printed what can be assumed is the girl’s name: Stephanie. On the front, over relatively small and unsupported breasts, more white words were printed, though entirely backwards and thus unreadable. ![]() Printed white letters on the hip of those shorts, to which they barely hang on, read “Property of Callisto InDe Facility.” Those delicate hips, are visible – along with an inch or two of navel – due to the equally baggy, though somewhat short, black T shirt that hangs from her shoulders. Thin legs are visible up to the knees, where a pair of slightly baggy, black shorts cover the rest. The chromed leg irons that produce that echoing sound hang from small, otherwise bare ankles. The gentle padding of bare feet on that smooth metal can be heard if listened for. Echoing through endless, steel corridors, the sound of chains as they’re dragged across the cold floor.
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