The Sarcophagus
Chapter 1
The sentence she'd received was entirely out of proportion!
As an innocent tourist in the mid-East country, she'd thought that her citizenship
and passport would protect her from just this sort of thing; but her Government
had done virtually nothing to shield her from the local laws, assuming in fact,
that she was actually guilty of the 'crime' that she'd been accused of and sentenced
for! The trial, if it could be called that, had been of the typical Third World
Dictatorship style and Miss Christine Frank now found herself alone in a holding
cell, facing 25 years of hard labor for something that she hadn't done. All
she'd been was a witness, for Heaven's sake! The local Gestapo had hauled her
in with others in the crowd, and being distinctly different than all of the
locals who'd been swept up in the dragnet, they'd targeted her for special attention.
At eighteen years of age and with a figure that men would kill for, she was
obviously on someone's acquisition list. What a fool she'd been, she thought
as she sat shivering fearfully in the small, hot, concrete box: her tightly
and painfully cuffed wrists held closely at her sides by the cutting girth of
a heavy chain around her waist.
The guards hadn't been happy with their prisoner security. After the humiliatingly
intense body search and before they'd allowed her any coverings, they'd cinched
a flat, thick-linked chain firmly around her naked waist, sinking it deeply
into the soft flesh of her abdomen, and locked it securely. At points along
its length, shiny steel U's were mounted so that when the chain had been made
into her belt, they stuck outwards; one at the centre of her back, one over
each hip, one at the front and centre, and another two, some three inches to
either side of this. At first, she hadn't cared too much about the cinch, but
had just flamed with an embarrassed, whole-body flush. After leeringly inspecting
her for an endless two minutes, the male guards had at last flung the concealing,
long-skirted prison dress to her and gestured to her brusquely to put it on.
She'd done so in a rush, glad to be offered any covering for her nakedness.
Once enveloped in the obscuring garment, she stood passively while one of them
roughly adjusted it's fit, ensuring that the steel loops of the waist chain
projected out through eyelets sewn into the wide, elasticized waist band. Then
they'd restrained her. In moments her wrists each bore a very seriously intentioned,
shiny, wide steel cuff and these were immediately locked to the loops over her
hips. They next connected a chain leash to the central back loop, doubling it
so that it wouldn't drag on the floor. She could feel its swinging weight of
links, and they made a light tinkling sound even though enfolded within the
fullness of the heavy cotton of the long and cumbersome full skirt. They hadn't
been satisfied with those restraints alone though, for her ankles were quickly
encircled by tight steel bands, like those around her wrists; joined with a
short length of sturdy chain.
The ankle cuffs had been a shock to Christine, and the short hobbling chain
even more so; but she knew with certainty that she was their helpless victim
when the Jailer ratcheted them so tightly around her ankles that she had difficulty
walking, even in the prison-issued sandals. Her forced, fast-paced journey to
the holding cell had been an agony of steel jerking painfully on her ankles
as she strove to take normal steps. She'd had to hurry along in small dancing
paces on tip-toe, weeping from the pain of trying to walk, her elbows grasped
firmly by a guard on each side. Their grip on her upper arms had been commandingly
firm, and restrained as she was, she could no more resist them than she could
an avalanche.
The cell, or one like it was not a nice place to look forward to spending
the rest of her life.
A rat scurried from a hole in the floor, its long, leprous, naked tail swishing
as it inspected the weeping girl. It seemed as though the rodent understood
just how helpless she'd been made, and its bolder and bolder excursions had
become increasingly longer. It crept closer to the shuddering young woman, sniffing
at her. She gently tugged her cuffed wrists against the hidden waist chain,
trying to scare it off with the motion; but it hurt too much to make any sudden
moves. From the back of her waist, the six foot length of steel links led to
a ring-bolt inset into the concrete just above the thin mattress, and from the
centre link of her cruelly short hobble chain, a secondary leash of the same
length led to another ring-bolt embedded in the concrete wall underneath the
bench. In the corner, a malodorous covered bucket was the only toilet arrangement
provided and she'd had to use it once already. It had been a difficult and humiliating
process; but what else could she do? Even though naked beneath the ankle-length
cotton prison dress, she was inhibited in every movement and the long skirt
had proven difficult to get out of the way when she'd had to use the bucket.
She still felt her face flaming scarlet with embarrassment at the maneuvers
she'd had to make to be able to complete even this most basic of human activities.
"I'm not a wild animal that they have to fasten me like this!" She wailed to
herself in despair.
For interminable boring hours now, she'd sat alone in the silent cell, waiting
for them to come and take her to her fate. Certainly, some faint hope had been
offered by the envoy from the Embassy. He'd said that her Government was reviewing
the proceedings; but, he hadn't offered much in the way of consolation. He'd
listened to her story, staring fascinated at the manacles and chains that ensured
she remained a prisoner, even in his presence, and when she'd started to sob
brokenly near the end, he'd only passed over some paper tissues and made meaningless
soothing noises. She'd wiped her eyes with great difficulty, even though her
wrists were only loosely chained to her waist at that point, then he'd left.
Christine felt even more abandoned when the Guards returned and pulled her hands
back down to her sides, chaining them as they were now, preventing her from
even touching herself.
And so she sat; huddled, chained and alone, waiting.
A key was inserted into the steel portal's lock and the door swung open to
reveal the Prosecution lawyer. She stared up at him in despair, thinking that
her time had finally come.
"Good afternoon, Miss Frank." He smiled grimly down at her where she sat in
despair on her bench.
"H-h-hello." she whispered tremulously.
"Miss Frank, I'm here to offer you an alternative to your sentence."
Her heart leapt when he said the words and she attempted to stand, only to
sink back onto her hard perch, deeply intimidated by the sound of clattering
links to the back of her waist, reinforcing her helplessness. She gingerly moved
her arms against the restriction of the tight shackles on her wrists and the
constricting chain cutting into her middle.
"W-w-why is this h-h-happening t-t-to me?" She wailed, hoping against hope
that what he offered was better than her current fate. He ignored her question.
"First of all, let me tell you what you can expect in your current situation.
Miss Frank, your sentence is particularly onerous. Hard labour, in this country,
means precisely that. You won't be required to go to the rock pile to make gravel,
perhaps; but you will be made to work at unpleasant and demanding tasks to build
up your strength until that becomes possible. After that, you'll go to the quarry,
or the mines; or be required to do road work and such things as clearing ditches.
This is a tropical country, Miss Frank, and so not only is the work that you'll
have to do unpleasant in the extreme; but it is quite dangerous too."
"I-I-I know." She quavered, having seen the horrid snakes and the biting insects
all over the place.
"In addition you will, of course, be kept chained all of the time; so there
will be virtually no possibility of escape for you."
"O-o-o-ohhhh nnnnooo!" she moaned as yet more tears streamed down her face.
"Well, Miss Frank; there is an alternative to your rather drab and dismal
future, should you wish to take advantage of it."
After spending just the short time she had, chained so helplessly in her cell,
she was ready to grasp at anything that would extract her from her certain future.
"Oh please? What do I h-h-have to do?"
"Let me explain the mechanics of this alternative to you, before you accept.
First of all, you must realize that your current penalty is really only a thinly-disguised
death sentence. There is no doubt that you will die either from the sheer physical
exertion that you'll have to make to stay alive, or perhaps someday, while you
are clearing a ditch or working in the swamps, a snake or an alligator will
take you for its own, and that will be the end of Christine Frank."
"Ohhh, p-p-please ..... ." she wept at hearing the words that she knew to
be true.
"I'm afraid that that is truly the case. However, as I mentioned, there is
an alternative to this sentence. You will be required to submit yourself, in
writing, to the Intensive Care and Experimental Studies Group, located in the
Central Prison For Women. This Establishment conducts research on, and the rehabilitation
of female offenders. Their program is extensive, and effective."
"Bu-but I'm innocent!" she wailed.
"That is not what the verdict was, Miss Frank. You have been found guilty
of your crime, and must now pay your debt. I'm trying to explain your alternatives.
Believe me, young woman, you have virtually none; other than what I am offering
you!"
"P-p-please? Don't be angry with me? I-I-I'm just so overwhelmed by what's
happened."
"Very well then. As I was saying, this Establishment offers you an alternative.
It isn't a pleasant one; but it's much more attractive than your present circumstances.
Naturally their security is also very tight and so you will find yourself in
restraints at all times while you are there; but you won't be exposed to the
dangers out there in the wild. You will only spend some five years in their
custody, rather than your current sentence of twenty-five. Can you accept that?"
"Y-y-yes, I think so." She whispered, feeling the cruel bite of her shackles
and the restricting weight of her leashing chains.
"The program that you are eligible for is an Closed Option one, Miss Frank.
Once you have entered it, there is no turning back."
"I-I-I understand."
"Good! I take it then that you wish to utilize this alternative?"
"Oh, Ggggodddd!" she moaned in tears again, "Please, please! Get me out of
here!"
"Very well, then. I'll take that as a yes and will arrange matters forthwith.
The documentation for you to sign will be ready and your Official Transfer to
the Program will take place shortly."
"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" she whispered, unbearably relieved to have escaped
from a terrible fate.
"I'll see you shortly." He left her then, still sitting forlornly on the hot
steel bench, her shoulders shaking with sobs of relief.
What seemed like a long time later the door opened and the Jailer entered.
"Stand up!"
She did so, and he quickly released her leash chains. His iron hard fingers
painfully encircled her right arm above the elbow and she was frog-marched from
the miserable little concrete box that had been her home for only 6 hours. Five
minutes later she was positioned in front of the Warden's desk, renewed tears
of pain sliding unwiped down her cheeks from the abrading of the tight steel
encirclements of her ankles. The man who'd visited her in the cell stood behind
it, next to the Warden. She looked down to the desk, where arrayed on the surface,
facing her, were three, long, closely-typed pages, and a pen.
"The paper on the left is your Official Request to be transferred to the ICESG,
Miss Frank. It must be signed prior to any of the others becoming effective.
The middle one is your Commutation of Sentence, and it will then activate the
third document. That one is your Official Agreement to accept the Terms and
Conditions that will be imposed by your request on the first document.
"By signing these papers, you thereby accede to all of the procedures and
events that will ensue, forfeiting any early parole or release until your new
and reduced sentence has been completed to the State's satisfaction. This signing
also forfeits your right to any further action by your Government. Copies of
all pertinent records and these papers will be presented to the Ambassador later
today, should you sign them. Do you understand?"
"Wh-wh-what h-h-happens to me after I do?"
"For the moment, that does not concern you, Miss Frank. Do you wish to be
assigned to ICESG or not?"
"Y-y-yes, I do. Please." She whispered, not really knowing what she was committing
herself to, or caring, at this point. She only wanted to escape what would surely
happen if she didn't.
"You must now sign the documents in the order that I've indicated."
"P-p-please? Could my hands be freed?"
"Miss Frank! Of course not. You will sign them, if at all, confined as you
are. You may approach and use the pen provided."
She shuffled slowly forward to the desk, her ankle chain snapping tight with
each pitifully small pace and the jingling of it causing her an acute flush
of embarrassment. She came to the edge of the wide mahogany desk then leaned
against it, her fingers grasping for the pen that she thought offered salvation.
The distance of the pen from the edge had been carefully calculated so that
it was just beyond her reach, forcing her to bend forward and struggle against
her chains to reach it. Christine leaned too far and her feet went out from
under her. She collapsed onto the hard brown surface in a disorderly pile of
desperately struggling, chained femininity, deeply humiliated by her helplessness
and restrictions. Gasping sobs shook her shoulders while she awkwardly struggled
to regain her feet; but now she had the fateful pen in her fingers. Shaking
with reaction and still blushing furiously at having her helplessness so glaringly
demonstrated, she leant over again and managed to print, then write her name
at the bottom of each document.
"Stand back, 130146."
