"Prisoner 112358, report to Interview Room 1138 immediately."
The intercom rang out through the cells, echoing against the stone walls surrounding her. It had been ages since she had a name other than the number, and longer than that that she had been directed to the rooms. The memory of her processing still filled her with shame and fear, but she no longer wept in the night about it. A moment to tie back her hair into a rough ponytail and smooth out stray wrinkles in the short, sack-like dress she had been allotted, and she stood by her door, waiting for the automated lock.
With a buzz, her door slid open and she was in the dimly-lit and seemingly empty hall. Cameras occasionally flicked over her as she hurried to the Intake Wing, her mind racing with possible reasons for the summons. It couldn't be parole, she was certain anyone who wanted her out had long ago themselves been disappeared. She hadn't interacted with any other prisoners to be a discipline problem, either, so that left a swirling abyss of unknowns.
The door to 1138 was standing open, and as she entered the room, eyes down as was required in the presence of her captors, she was aware of several things. The first was the blinding light directed on her from behind the long table she faced, behind which was seated a man in a white coat, holding a clipboard full of papers. The next was the gurney to her left, with intimidating-looking restraints dangling from it. More gradually, she realized that they were not alone, as she sensed several bodies waiting behind her in the darkness.
"Kneel," the man behind the table commanded, in a dispassionate tone. It was a tone that suggested he was used to obedience without question. Dropping to her knees, she was unsure what to do with her hands and settled for folding them behind her back, head down, The leather collar that had been her constant companion and sometimes her only clothing pushed back against her chin. Despite the long time it had been there, it seemed to never soften its edges, and provided a continuing reminder of her position.
"Prisoner 112358, you've been with us for some time, haven't you?"
"Sir, I don't know how long it's been, but it does feel like a while."
"And in that time, you have been relatively well-behaved after your initial reluctance. That's why you have been called here today. You have been
selected
." She could hear the slight emphasis, the derogatory inflection. A chill ran through her as she processed this new information.
"We have need of you... well, of your body, at any rate. We are here today to confirm that you meet our needs and can be put to use. These men," he gestured to the back of the room, "are here to ensure both your qualifications and your cooperation. Please stand, remove your dress, and assume your inspection posture."
A momentary hesitation in her compliance brought immediate response. A hand grabbed her makeshift ponytail, pulling her up to her feet roughly. She whimpered, and hurried to pull the dress over her head, fearing further assistance. The room felt colder, and she was keenly aware of her stiffening nipples brushing the rough fabric. An awareness of the multitude of eyes upon her body caused a flush of embarrassment and for a moment she hesitated, considering shielding herself with her hands.
"Your position, girl. Failure at this early stage in your inspection will have far worse consequences for your eventual re-training." The man behind the table, hidden by the bright light shining on her, sounded almost bored by the events unfolding here, as though it were another tedious chore in a busy day. She pushed thoughts of modesty away and stood straighter, hands clasped behind her head, legs spread to allow her examiners access both visual and physical as needed. She heard a faint click as a recording device began its work, and caught the blink of red light from a corner which reminded her of the video feed watching her.
As she stood, exposed, she heard indistinct whispering behind her from the crowd. Unable to tell how many voices she heard, she resisted the urge to look back and nervously waited for the inspection to proceed. A few footsteps from the darkness and the man with the clipboard was in front of her, handing off the paperwork to a heretofore unnoticed assistant. The assistant held the girl's attention, and was a small surprise. She was likewise cloaked in a white lab coat, and her hair was pulled back in a much sleeker version of the prisoner's ponytail. However, peeking out from under the coat was her own thick leather collar, and her face was painted with whorish makeup, bright red lipstick, and heavy mascara. Her eyes were blank, as though she had been hollowed out. The prisoner focused her attention on the assistant as the inspector began his work.
He quickly wrapped a tourniquet around her forearm, and slapped the skin a few times, like a junkie preparing for his hit. She felt the cold swipe of an sterile wipe, and the pinch as a needle drew blood from her arm. The vial was handed off to one of the group of observers, who hurried out so as to miss as little as possible.
A cold, metal measuring tape circled her limbs, chest, and torso, the inspector rattling off measurements in a dry voice to his assistant. Gripping the prisoner by the throat, he pried open her mouth to examine her teeth. Seeming satisfied with what he saw, he produced an intimidatingly large dildo, marked down the length with measurements. Unceremoniously, he pushed it into her mouth, waiting for a gag reflex. When she did not reject it, he forced more in, gagging her and bringing tears to her eyes. After a moment, he worked yet more in until her panicked eyes met his briefly and she began choking in earnest. His face remained expressionless as he drove the cock into her throat, working it in and out as she sputtered and tried to breathe. At last, he withdrew it and let her slump to the floor as he turned to record her performance.
Her respite was short-lived, though, as hands from behind grabbed her breasts and her hair, pulling her bodily back to her feet and roughly posing her in her previous posture. One difference, her legs were spread further, and the inspector noted that she was beginning to show signs of arousal and wetness.