THE FEEDING ROOM

The next thing I knew I was on a bed, on my back, naked except for a pair of loose pink panties pulled up tightly against the flesh of my cunt. I wasn’t tied.

I flexed my fingers and slid over onto my side. I felt sick. Lydia was lying on a bed next to mine, staring hard into my face.

‘I was watching you,’ she said giving me a broad smile. Seeing her sharp teeth reminded me of where I was. I shivered. ‘I have been watching you all night.’

I felt confused.

‘Where am I?’

‘You are in the second calming room - here they call it the “feeding room”. It is the place where they calm the spirit within, where they keep the vile odours at bay. It is here we are fed in preparation for the change. The unifying power of iron fortifies the membranes, Syra - makes us ready for our new life ahead. It gives us the strength to withstand an eternity of darkness.’

I started to recollect the story she had told me, how she had been enslaved to the Mexicans and how in the end they had sold her to - ! Father Dawson! I couldn’t believe it! It couldn’t be true! Surely I was imagining it! What had she been talking about? How could anyone act from beyond the grave? I shivered all over. What was happening to me?

‘What’s happening to me?’ I shouted out in desperation.

‘Calm down,’ said Lydia. ‘It is still day. Calm down.’

‘What do you mean, “It is still day”? What’s happening to me? What does it matter whether it’s day or not?’

‘Look at yourself.’ She held up a small cracked mirror. ‘You will soon see.’

‘I don’t know what you mean! No! I shan’t look in the mirror. There is nothing to see. This is all a cruel game! Help! Help!’

I felt out of control. I was overwhelmed with anxiety. I couldn’t stop shouting. I was shaking all over.

Lydia reached over and put her hand on my shoulder. I knocked it away angrily.

‘Help! Help!’ I shouted. ‘Somebody, please help!’

The door opened. A shaft of light came in through the opening. It made me blink and shrink back. Why was I so sensitive to light? I tried to look at it but I couldn’t. The light filled my head and made it pound.

Nurse Roslin came in carrying a shiny metal tray.

‘She’s going to knock you out,’ Lydia mocked. ‘I told you. It’s still day. It’s not our time. She’s going to knock you out. She does everything she is ordered.’

Nurse Roslin walked over to me purposefully. She fixed me with her green eyes. She took a syringe from the metal tray, held it with the needle uppermost and squeezed the plunger slowly into the barrel. A spurt of liquid squirted out in a narrow curving jet.

‘This will calm you,’ she said.

She sat down on the edge of the bed. Her short skirt drew up on her well shaped thighs. As she squirmed into position I caught a fleeting glimpse of her white panties. She bent towards me. I could see the top edge of her lacy bra and the deep cleavage that disappeared into the top of her white uniform jacket. She turned my arm over and laid the back of my hand flat on her lap. I felt the warmth of her bare thighs against my skin. With one hand she lifted my wrist slightly and with the other she levelled the tip of the needle against the vein on the inside of my elbow. Her red fingernails glittered like jewels.

I waited for the pain as it entered but felt none. A feeling of disappointment came over me. She squeezed the plunger and the solution in the syringe slowly entered my arm. I felt its warmth. She removed the needle, licked out her tongue and tasted the still dripping end. She laid my arm back on the bed and placed the palm of her hand on my forehead. I felt warmth in my cunt and lifted my leg in the hope that the movement would accentuate it, but I felt nothing. I wanted to drop my thighs apart. I wanted her to bury her tongue into my crack - to lick me as deeply as she could. I tried to smile but my mouth would not move. I felt warm all over. I tried to lift my arm and nothing happened. She stood up and looked down at me. She licked her red lips and then she faded away - it was as if the world around me just disappeared.

The next thing I knew was a feeling of delightful warmth in my cunt - something soft and wet. I lifted my hips to meet it. I saw a head between my thighs. It was Lydia - her face buried against the flesh of my crack, her tongue lapping at the flesh, its tip probing into the darkness within. I did not stop her, or even think about trying.

My head lolled to one side. I stared through a glazed partition into the adjoining room and saw a young woman on her hands and knees. I could just make out her panties pulled down onto her thighs. Her breasts were bare, her hair was black - short cropped and shiny. Her pale face was bent down into a trough, her naked bottom held high. I could not see what she was eating or drinking, but when she choked a man who stood behind her in a black suit brought down a leather strap across her taut, already reddened buttocks.

I squeezed up my eyelids to see more clearly. The woman lifted her head from the trough - she was young and beautiful. The man brought down the strap. It smacked her hard. She reared back but, obviously in fear of more punishment, straightaway buried her face again into the trough. I could see the red lines across her buttocks and the fresh one caused by the latest stroke already colouring up on her otherwise pale skin.

Lydia pulled back. I felt the coolness of exposure as her warm tongue slipped out of my slit. I squirmed, frustrated at its loss. Lydia looked beautiful - her smooth sallow skin set against a mass of tangled red hair. The ashen face, the injury to her skull, the crooked shoulder that I had witnessed before, had all gone. It was as if she had been rejuvenated. Her whole face was wet from my moisture. She wiped her eyes with her fingertips. She blinked, savouring the wetness that had run across her eyeballs.

‘You like to see the young girl taking her medicine?’ she asked.

I could not stop myself nodding.

‘Yes, yes, I do.’

‘The girl before her did not survive. It is a terrible test she is undergoing. I know, I have endured it myself. Let me tell you of another, just as young, just as beautiful. They brought her into this very treatment room early one morning. It was just getting light and she was already sensitive - like you are, Syra. Her youthful beauty radiated from her in a glow. She had been brought in with pains in her head, the orderly said. One of the other attendants said she had a brainstorm - but of course none of this was true.’

Lydia drew back, pulled her knees up and sat between my thighs. She reached forward and pressed two of her fingers into my cunt, ran them up and down the silky lining a few times then pulled them out again. She sucked her fingers and smiled.

‘We were friends, this young girl and me. We had come here at the same time. Both abducted, made to suffer then finally brought here. I sat by her side the whole of the morning. She stared ahead, breathing in shallow noisy bursts. She had found all the treatments difficult to bear. She was not strong. I spoke to her occasionally. Sometimes it was as if we were sitting together again in front of the winter fire in the cabin by the lake where we had spent that happy week together. It had been beyond the Canadian border, a hunter’s cabin. It was so cold. We were cruelly used, but neither of us suffered, neither of us could resist - the pleasure that came with the pain was too great. That was our bond - we were tied together by our desires, and how we found them through our suffering. Yes, I spoke to her, to try and remind her that I was here, still with her, still sharing her desire for the delights of agony. But she did not reply. She was too frightened. I talked about that week - how we had swum in the cold lake water - how we had shivered as we held onto each other naked around the fire we had been allowed to build on the shingle lake beach. I tried to remind her of our pale faces and blue lips and how we had clung to each other so tightly. I talked about how we had run our fingers along the cracks of each other’s cunts, how we had writhed and fallen to the ground by the fire, how we had licked each other’s flesh, how we lapped at it so thirstily. And how we had been bent onto all fours and thrashed with still burning sticks from the fire, and how we had been branded to show our master’s ownership of us. I could taste her moisture as I spoke - it was delectable. I can still taste it now. But still she did not reply. I listened to her strange monotonous sounds - perfectly in time with her exhalations - and imagined she was thinking of words, thinking of responses to my story of the past. It was as though she was copying the breathless gasps that came from our gaping mouths as we had driven each other time and again to delectable climax.

‘Once she tilted her head back, as though she was acknowledging one of my nervous asides - “Remember how they thrashed us both with sticks? Remember how we were forced naked into the snow and made to crawl on all fours along the lake shore? Remember how cold it was - how we shivered until we peed ourselves?” Once she seemed to raise an eyebrow as though suddenly she had become interested again in the world and me. Or perhaps she was wondering if it ever could have happened? I do not know, she did not say.

‘I sat with her for ages. It was like a hospital visit. I listened to the sounds outside the treatment room in which we crouched, like conspirators hatching a plan to replace life with something more vital. I heard the sound of leather straps being brought down on upturned buttocks, the choking of patients as they had their faces forced into the troughs for feeding. I heard the mumbled “thank-yous” as patients were forced to beg for forgiveness for any transgression from the detailed instructions which were laid out for them to follow. I listened to the vomiting of the poor souls who could not ingest what they were offered.

She had been starved in preparation - the black and white oxygen bottle at her side and the dry drip line up her nose, her only nourishment. I held her hand - it was cold and sweaty. Her face was so beautiful; her skin was white and smooth - perfect. I remembered how she had always held me so tightly when we had met, clung to me perhaps too long in her enthusiastic embrace, kissed me, whispered in my ear - drawn too much attention to our secret intimacy. I remembered the scent of her cunt when I kissed her back. I squeezed her fingers but she did not squeeze mine. I took them into my mouth and sucked them but she did not respond.

‘I did not know what she was remembering. I could not tell if the images of our destruction were still in her mind - how we had been so suddenly abducted by our cruel tormentor, and later in captivity how we had knelt before him, and worshipped him as he treated us with disdain, and degraded us in every way he wanted. I could not tell if she was recalling the pain we had both suffered at his hands or if she was picturing how we had delighted in our misery - how we had reached the heights of ecstasy as we were thrashed, bound, and buried in the desert sand.

‘I knew they would come soon and take me out of this terrible place - this waiting room for entry to the abyss - I had been put to the trough already. For the last few minutes, I sat back on the hard chair and stared at her in a way I could not stare at someone who was aware of me. I analysed her - eyes fixed, barely blinking, and the rhythmic panting breaths sounding the nonsensical single note of all that was left of her voice. She was already preparing to emerge on the other side. This was the point of her rebirth - as if she was a chrysalis giving life to a new form.

‘As they grabbed my arms and lifted me into a wheelchair, I looked across at her. I realised the difference between us, our different and opposing grip on life - mine for the time being still to the fear of darkness, hers now to the fear of light. I bent and kissed her. I spoke again, saying goodbye but not wishing her well or reminding her of the next time we would meet. I did not want to know of the next time. This pointed lack of nicety brought a sudden flush of tears to my eyes. I wanted to say she would be alright, but how could she be alright in the abyss of experienced death?

‘They wheeled me to the door. Just before they gagged me, I said goodbye again and waved - almost cheerfully, unable to suppress the association of a fond goodbye to someone I would see again. And she lifted her arm and waved back - silently saying goodbye, bidding me farewell, leaving me with her best wishes for my own journey which would follow with certainty and soon.

‘They drew the ball gag tightly into my mouth and pushed me to the door. I felt elated by her wonderful departure and realised that it was she, not me who was passing on the good wishes, it was me returning into the abyss of life - as yet not fully prepared to move on even though I realised it was my destiny. I envied her so much, and struggled against the bonds at my wrists and ankles not to be free but to hasten my sacrifice to the new life of complete service to my master.

‘They wheeled me behind the curtain which was draped at the back of the door. Her watcher - one of his faithful acolytes appointed to observe the transformation time - had been sitting in the corner all the time I had been there. He had not spoken, was thin with gaunt features, sunken cheeks and thin lips. I smiled at him once but he just stared right through me. He leant over and bent his face down to his charge’s beautiful skin. He kissed her shoulder, opening his mouth and lapped his tongue slowly against the ivory-like surface before he moved closer to her neck. She kept panting - perhaps a little faster as she detected his presence. Her breathing was now like that of an animal. He lingered, his open mouth just allowing his tongue to hang forward proud of his narrow lips. I clung to the edges of the curtain, suddenly aware of being caught spying on him, of his potential anger towards me should he feel I was intruding into this private moment. He caught my gaze, fixed it and gave me a thin, barely expressed smile.

‘Still fixing me with his gaze, he opened his mouth and exposed his teeth - his canines had been sharpened and stood out prominently from the rest. He lowered his face to her neck. She gasped as he made contact with her silky skin, raising her chest and dropping back her head as he pressed the sharp tips of his teeth into her beautiful flesh.

‘Oh, the delight! The image still fills me with rapture. That is how it happens, Syra. That is how it happened to me. That is how it will happen to you. You are being prepared. Already you have confessed your sins, and have had your teeth sharpened and drilled. Soon you will sense the delightful taste when, through those tiny holes in their ends, they drip the mixture of your own and another’s blood. He has made you wait too long. We need you with us now. And, after you have fed, you will be strong enough for bleeding. Oh, I envy your journey. Do not fear it; we are all waiting for you.’

‘What are you telling me? What’s happening to her? What is she feeding from?’

‘Look at the young girl! They feed us on iron. It makes our blood stronger. This one has not fed before - she is new to it. See, she still chokes as she tries to swallow it. It is difficult, but the strapping makes it easier - pain stimulates hunger. I was eager to feed when they put me to the trough, but still it was difficult. The filings grate in the throat, and they are so hard to swallow. But this one may fail. I can see she is fragile. Our master wants us all to serve but we need to be strong. He will reject her if she fails the test. He has to be cruel. Some may forever remain outside his fold. It has all gone quiet. Perhaps she has failed already.’

The door opened.

‘Look,’ said Lydia. ‘Here’s Caroline. Dear Caroline. My dear, dear Caroline. Has she been looking after you?’ I nodded. ‘Welcome the new salvation. Do not hold back.’ She inclined her head towards Caroline. ‘Hello, Caroline. Have you come to look after my new friend Syra?’

Caroline ignored her with a sniff. Her black bobbed hair contrasted against her pale satiny skin, the square cut fringe framing her face as if she was a portrait.

‘Do not forget your dear friend, Caroline. Do not forget what we have been to each other.’

Caroline took no notice.

‘Ah, Syra,’ said Caroline. ‘You look as if you’re having a good time. You’ll have to take a break I’m afraid. We need to spend a bit of time next door. I saw you looking. It’s good to watch don’t you think? I enjoy watching too. But the last one put to the trough did not do very well. You probably heard her choking. Well, that wasn’t all of it. She was thrashed but even that didn’t cause her to feed - and the iron is so good for us! Perhaps you saw what happened to her in the end? Or perhaps you were too busy chatting. Syra, you are a one! Now, come along or we’ll be in trouble.’

She stretched out her hand. I took it and allowed her to help me to my feet. I felt a bit giddy and stumbled. She grabbed me and helped me walk into the room next door. I wanted to keep hold of her arm and squeezed it hard. She smiled at me, crinkling up her eyes in a strange sort of wink. I felt safer with her close by.

In the centre of the room was a long galvanized metal animal feeding trough. Its ends reached almost from wall to wall. At each of these ends sat a dwarf, both dressed like clowns in yellow and red diamond patterned costumes. They cocked their heads from side to side as they looked at me quizzically. A couple of paces back from the centre of the trough a man in a dark suit stood to attention. A black leather strap dangled from his hand; its end just touched the floor. He nodded to Caroline who walked me to the opposite corner furthest away from the trough. I felt a sense of relief, knowing that she was looking after me.

The man in the suit spoke.

‘The master requires us all to be strong. Iron is at the centre of our power. It is in the blood we share and take from others, and it is in the shards of iron we feed on. On your hands and knees! Crawl to the feeding place!’

Caroline pressed her hand between my shoulder blades. I dropped to my knees then allowed myself to fall forward so that I was on all fours. My panties tugged at the flesh of my cunt. I widened my thighs and felt the coolness of air against the filmy gusset that drew up closely against the soft moist edges of my crack.

‘Approach the trough!’ he shouted.

I hesitated.

‘Approach the trough! On your hands and knees as you have been instructed! Crawl to the feeding trough! You must prepare yourself!’

I moved forward. The tightness of the material of my panties pulled at my soft flesh. The act of crawling at the man’s command, the semi-darkness of the room, the metal trough, and the strangely dressed dwarfs, all conspired to set off a heat deep inside my cunt. I felt its moisture sticking to the soft material of my panties. I drew each leg forward one by one as, slowly I crept to the edge of the long galvanized trough.

I stared down into the long, grey, upturned semi-circle of the trough - it was empty. The man with the belt clicked his fingers and both dwarfs ran forward, struggling to pull heavy sacks behind them. One of them fell over and somersaulted to get upright again.

They held the heavy bags above the trough and started emptying the contents - heavy flows of dark brown iron filings. They ran along the trough spilling out the filling of the sacks in a long narrow pile the whole length of the feeding trough. Clouds of metal dust rose up and filled my nostrils. I coughed as its harsh tang entered my throat.

‘Now, begin the feeding! The master needs you strong for the transition.’

I looked back towards Caroline. She was no longer there. I felt a surge of anxiety. I felt abandoned and alone without her. My heart started thumping and I breathed heavily. The bitter dust filed my mouth and made me choke.

‘Feed!’ the man shouted angrily. ‘Feed!’

He flicked the leather strap threateningly. I bent my head into the trough.

One of the dwarfs ran around me, clawing at my panties and digging his fingernails into my buttocks.

‘Feed! Feed!’

The man in the suit flicked the strap again, this time harder.

I bent until my lips touched the surface of the iron filings. I couldn’t believe what I was doing!

‘Feed! Feed!’

I opened my mouth and licked my tongue out tentatively. The filings stuck to its tip - the metallic taste burned me, and the hard mineral consistency appalled me. This was iron! It was impossible to eat! It would poison me!

I heard the strap being pulled back. I saw the querying face of one of the dwarfs as he angled it down towards me on the opposite side of the trough. For a moment he drew my attention away from what was happening, and I was suddenly surprised when I felt the smarting contact of the leather against my bottom. I reacted by pulling my face away from the iron filings, and rearing back in pain. But I had hardly begun to cry out when it landed again. I started to turn around, not knowing what to do, and another came down.

‘Feed, I said! Feed! Feed!’

I turned back in terror. I hung my head above the trough. The dwarf laughed and cocked his head from side to side. I was distracted again and had delayed too long. The strap came down again. This time it grabbed the material of my panties and pulled them to one side. The sideways tension gripped the flesh of my cunt and made me shout out, not only with the pain from the strap on my buttocks but from the tearing snatch of the material as it pulled painfully at the edges of my soft moist flesh.

I buried my face in the dry iron filings - I had no option. I opened my mouth and filled it. The iron was heavy and tart, its sharp fragments cut into my lips, it grated against the insides of my cheeks, it scratched the surface of my tongue.

The strap came down again. I bit my teeth together to try and stop myself crying out, but it did not work. I felt sick with confusion - I heard myself choking, shouting, and trying desperately to breathe. Some of the filings stuck to the insides of my throat. When I choked it was like fire against my windpipe.

The strap came down again. This time I buried my face deeper in the iron filings, but still I could not feed. My buttocks burned with the heat of the strap. Its sound filled my ears. The man kept shouting at me, the dwarves kept jumping in and out of my vision - grabbing my hair, or pinching my bottom and thighs. One of them dropped onto his back wriggled beneath me and started sucking one by one at my nipples. His teeth clenched around them and searing pains shot through my breasts. The strap came down again. I screamed and straightaway buried my face back in the dry iron filings. They stuck to my face, in my nostrils and in my eyes. Again I choked and pulled back.

One of the dwarves jumped on my shoulders and forced my head down hard into the trough. I tried to pull back but he was too strong.

‘Start the sluice!’ the man shouted.

The other dwarf let go of my nipples, scuttled to the side of the room, grabbed a fire hose, dropped the brass nozzle into the end of the trough and turned it on.

A flood of water streamed down the bottom of the trough, churning up the iron filings and creating a brown muddy torrent. It hit the side of my face with a smack. I gulped and tried to pull back but the dwarf on my shoulders would not release his grip. Water flowed around my face. It thundered in my ears and ran up my nostrils. I could just hear the man shouting. I could still feel the burning contact of the leather strap on my buttocks then, as I choked and gulped, I suddenly found myself drawing the mixture of water and iron filings into my mouth and swallowing it down.

I drank deeply, swallowing in huge gulps, feeling the heaviness of the mixture flooding inside me, entering my innards.

I closed my eyes and drank from it like a thirsty animal. The strap continued falling and when it stopped I felt the weight of the other dwarf who had been biting my nipples as he parted my buttocks with his strong hands, clung to my back and forced his heavy cock deep inside my anus. I did not think of resisting. I lifted my buttocks to him, and opened them as wide as I could as he forced his cock as deep as it would go. He pounded me hard, driving the bulbous tip of his cock deep into my rectum. He gripped my hips in his strong hands and, as he filled my rectum with his hot semen, and I gulped in a frenzy of delight, and swallowed even more of the liquor from the trough, I felt strangely elated and nourished by the iron which was now passing into my system.

As I regained consciousness I found myself lying next to the overflowing trough. The door burst open and Nurse Roslin marched in.

She pulled the starched front of her uniform jacket tightly together at the front, adjusting the top button which had become slightly loose and rested at an angle in the buttonhole. Her cleavage deepened as she brought the shiny jacket facings together. She smiled - a nervous surreptitious smile out of character with her general presence and deportment - but replaced it quickly with a scowl. It was as if she had dropped her guard and caught herself in the act.

‘She’s going to knock you out!’ shouted Lydia from the other room. ‘Sure enough! She’s going to knock you out!’

Nurse Roslin leant over me. I inhaled the delicate scent of her smooth skin. As she bent forward, her uniform top opened at the neck and I saw the embroidered edge of her bra pulled tightly around her well shaped breasts. She whispered something. I couldn’t make it out - I was too terrified to make sense of it. My heart was beating so fast and my head pounding so hard I felt deafened. She tried again - I felt the heat of her breath against my ear, but still I couldn’t hear her words. I shivered.

Out of nowhere Caroline appeared. Nurse Roslin fell back with a snarl. Her teeth were bared against her curled-back lips. A dribble of spit ran over her bottom teeth. I heard her growl.

Caroline smiled at her. Nurse Roslin screwed up her eyes and licked her lips.

Seemingly unconcerned, Caroline turned away from her.

‘Oh, Syra! What are you doing now? Really! You can’t keep away from your games can you? You really must take a rest! You’ll exhaust yourself, and get us all into trouble if you carry on like this!’

She took my arm and lifted me away from Nurse Roslin.

Nurse Roslin hissed and moved her head forward but immediately drew back.

I let Caroline half carry me out of the room. I felt safe in her arms - safe from the threats and dangers which seemed to stalk me at every turn. As she laid me down on the bed in her cell, and I saw the glimmer of light from the sunrise breaking in through a tiny gap in the curtain, I opened my legs and allowed her to slip her tongue deeply into my eager welcoming crack. She grasped my buttocks on her hands and squeezed them hard. I felt her sharp fingernails digging into my skin and wondered if blood was trickling from the puncture marks I felt sure they had caused. For the moment, I felt saved from the fate that Lydia seemed to think so unavoidable. I dropped my legs as wide as they would go.