A Slave’s Paradise

By DX

Copyrighted, 10/2026, all rights reserved.

 Reese felt nauseous.

 As she roused, shifting in her space, she felt metal clutching her wrist, and something clinking as she moved.  Squinting awake, she found herself supine on a thin mat, in the shadowy space of a cubby hole, overlooking a bright room filled from floor to ceiling with other cubby spaces, some occupied.

 Her berth was at floor level.

 ‘What the fuck?’  Her mind raced.  ‘Where the fuck am I?  Am I under arrest?’  She struggled to sit up, only to find the cubby didn’t have enough room.  ‘Is this the brig?’  She blinked as her mind tried to wake up, thinking of the tight berths aboard ship.  It had been fifteen years since she left the US Navy, but it felt like that dream where she was five minutes from a junk on the bunk inspection and her sea bag was no where to be found.

 She wasn’t dreaming.

 As she reached up to pull herself out, her attention was called back to the metal on her wrists: two inch wide bands a quarter inch thick connected by a heavy chain.  The shackles were oval, and fit her wrists precisely.  The chain passed through a welded ring on the front of a thick belt locked tight around her waist.  Moving one hand pulled the other to the belt.

 ‘Okay, what?’  Her mind began to blister into panic.  ‘What the fuck is going on?’  She looked up into the room to call for help, but could only make mewing sounds.  ‘Is there something in my mouth?’  She found her chain had just enough slack to reach her head, but it pulled her other hand tight to her belt.  She felt a tight, heavy band of steel across her mouth.  When she tried to open her mouth, she felt metal encapsulate her head and she couldn’t move her jaw.  ‘What’s this on my head?’  She felt soft, prickly fuzz in the gaps of the steel straps across her scalp.  ‘Did… did someone shave my head?’

 Almost at a full panic she kicked out, but shackles on her ankles made her struggling futile.

 A woman touched her shoulder.

 Stunned, Reese only looked at her.

 The woman held up her hand.  ‘Calm,’ she gestured.

 The woman was perhaps in her late twenties, and had large, brown expressive eyes.  A band of steel, three inches wide, ran around her head and sealed her mouth away.  From the bottom of the band was a strip of metal hooked under her jaw.  At the top of the band, Reese could see the skin of her cheek bones bulged from the tightness of the metal.  There, two strips of steel ran at an angle, framing her nose and connecting at the bridge, before a single band ran up over her forehead.  At her forehead, another band connected, ringing around her head.  The entire structure fit snug to her head, obviously custom fit to very small tolerances.

 The woman gestured, ‘Come.’

 Slowly Reese complied, guided by the woman’s touch.  

 ‘Put your foot there,”  She gestured.  ‘and shimmy a little, good… now duck your head… good.’  The woman shuffled back to give Reese a little room.  ‘Roll to your knees, that’s it’  Reese struggled to move in her limiting restraints.  ‘Lean back, one foot forward.’  The woman touched Reese’s leg.  ‘This foot forward… now stand.’

 Reese complied, fighting to keep her decorum as she felt the cold cement floor on her bare feet.  As she rose to her full height, she felt the press of the band of steel against the back of her head, keeping her cowed.  She touched her head and felt the plate around her mouth.  “Mmm!”  She grunted, and felt a hard rubber guard in her mouth.  She tried to shift her jaw and move within the confines of the metal cage, but couldn’t move in the slightest.  ‘Did they cement my teeth together?’  She imagined a mouthguard filled with epoxy behind the plate across her lower face.  

 As her mind fought to make sense of anything, she looked at the woman.

 ‘Calm.’  The woman gestured.

 ‘Yeah, I’m fucking calm.’  Reese’s eyes were hard.  “I am the mother fucking calm guru of Calmovia.’

 The woman pointed to her belt.  Crudely stamped on it was the number, 8311.  She pointed to herself.  She then pointed to Reese’s belt.

 Reese looked down, and read upside down and backwards, 10166.

 Reese nodded understanding.  ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane.  Got it.  Okay, I’m gonna call you Belle, because in my dyslexic brain that is 8311.  Okay, Belle… what the fuck?’

 Belle’s head was locked as Reese’s, and she wore a thick, heavy collar snugly around her neck.  She wore a steel bra connected by flat chains around her chest.  Around her waist was a solid steel belt with flat chains connected to it that strapped around her loins and welded to a vented plate over her neather.

 Reese felt her anger rise at the sight of the chastity belt.  ‘This is not the brig.  Fuck!  It’s the Island of Doctor No!’  Slowly Reese reached up, and touched the steel bowl of her own bra to confirm its presence, then down to confirm she too was in chastity.

 Reese took a long breath, hissing in her nose, and let it out.  ‘Okay, I’m gonna kill some fucker.’  She mentally growled.

 Belle held up her hand.  ‘Calm.’  She insisted.

 Reese nodded.  ‘Oh, I’m a fucking tidal wave of calm.  I have so much clam right now I’m gonna fucking drown this place in calm.  People will be like, oh, she’s so calm she can juggle cotton balls in a wind storm.’  Her eyes glared.  ‘I am the calm that is going to calmly throat punch some fucker.’

 ‘Calm.’  Belle insisted.

 Reese tried to pull back her building rage with minimal success.

 Belle pointed to herself, then her eyes, then Reese.  ‘I will show you.’  She pointed to the corner of the room.  ‘Look there.’

 Reese turned where Belle had pointed.  In the corner of the room by the ceiling was a quarter section of a black plastic dome.  Reese knew instantly that behind the dome were security cameras.

 ‘They watch us.’  Belle gestured, then touched her neck, pointed to the security cameras, then drew a zig-zag down.  She tensed up, shivering, her fingers like claws and her eyes closed in pain.

 Reese touched the collar on her own neck, then made a half-hearted cringe as if in pain.  

 Belle nodded.

 ‘Got it.’  Reese thought.  ‘Shock collars.’  Her engineering mind warmed as she calculated how the collars worked.  ‘Radio transceivers in the room.  Battery in the collar, high voltage, low amps, like a police stun gun to the neck.  Not pleasant.’  

 As she thought, she looked around the room.  The other women in their cubbies, clad only in steel, ignored her, obviously trying their hardest to get often denied sleep.  

 ‘Am I…  Is this, some sort of, Slave Prison?’  The idea twisted within her.  ‘Fuck!  This can’t be real.  Some county sheriff perverted form of justice?’  She looked to the other women in their bunks.  ‘All young-ish, slim,’  She glanced at Belle.  ‘pretty.’  Her brows knitted as she tried to remember.  ‘How did I…?  I had… I was home, I just ordered delivery.’  She pushed back the fog.  ‘The guy came… but the porch light was out… he moved…’  The fog thickened in her memory.  ‘What happened?  I can’t remember… he had something, then…’  Images moved like playing cards.  ‘He had a thing, a little gun, like how we got inoculations in the Navy, a hypo gun.’  Her memory ended with a pinch to her neck.  ‘He hit me with some drug and now I’m here.’  She sighed hard.  ‘Well, no tip for him!’  She thought sarcastically as she looked at the walls of cubbies.  ‘That means I don’t get a lawyer or a phone call.  I’m fucked and stuck in a nightmare that I would like to wake up from.’

 Belle touched her to get her attention.  ‘Come.  I will show you.’  She pointed to the cement floor by the heavy steel door.  ‘Stand there.’  She reached for the door but pulled back her hand, followed by a zig zag drawn in the air, then a shiver of pain.  ‘Don’t touch the doors, you’ll be shocked.’  She stood beside Reese and waved at the security camera.  She pointed to herself, then Reese.  She waited calmly for a minute, then waved again.

 The door slid open violently with a harsh metal bang, startling Reese.

 Belle grabbed Reese’s arm and pulled her along.  ‘Quick!’  The two shuffled as quickly as they could in their ankle chains out into the hall.  Just as they passed, the door hissed and banged shut, followed by the clock work gears sliding a heavy bolt to lock it into place.

 ‘Come.’  Belle moved down the hall, a little anxious.  ‘Come.’

 The hall was a long, dreary cement corridor illuminated by buzzing and flickering fluorescent lights.  Shackled women, their heads locked in heavy metal, moved about—everyone with a chore.  They were all metal clad as Reese was.  They were silent, their eyes forlorn and weak.  Their hair was in several stages of short, showing their head cages plainly.  The women were all thin, and under fed.  Some of their shackles chaffed, leaving red raw patches of worn away skin.  

 They glanced up at Reese as she passed, and she could feel their sadness and despair at seeing the new girl.

 One woman, slowly swabbing the deck, locked eyes with Reese.

 ‘Welcome to hell.’  Her eyes spoke.

 ‘Come.’  Belle waved Reese on.

 ‘What’s the hurry?’  Reese looked away from the woman and her mop.  Along the hall were other locked doors and Reese looked at them as they passed.  ‘What’s in there?’

 Belle dismissed them.  ‘Later.’  She pointed ahead where bright daylight streamed.  ‘We’re going there.’  She pointed to double doors at the end of the hall.

 At the end of the hall were heavy, imposing doors, designed to withstand a nuclear blast.  

 White sun light shone through the small, impenetrable glass window of each door.  Judging the thickness, Reese imagined it was six to eight inches thick.

 Belle stopped at the door and faced a camera dome on the ceiling.  She waved, then made a walking motion with her fingers, then pointed to Reese.

 They waited.

 Minutes passed, and Belle started rocking her feet back and forth, heel to toe to ease the hard press of the solid floor against her feet.  She looked at Reese and shrugged.  ‘We wait.’

 Needing something to do, Reese looked at her shackles.  They were smooth, shiny, and seamless metal clasping her wrists tightly.  She touched Belle to get her attention, and made a turning motion and pointed to the cuff.  ‘Where’s the key?’

 Belle shook her head.  ‘There is no key.’

 ‘What?’

 Belle sighed, and pointed to her head cage.  She slowly turned showing one continuous band.  ‘No key,’  

 Reese tugged at her gag, feeling its solidity.  ‘Then how do we unlock them?’

 ‘We don’t.’  Belle’s eyes were steady.  ‘We wear them forever.’  She then pointed as a woman approached.  ‘Here we go.’

 Holding on to her building questions, Reese watched another slave, perhaps in her thirties, shuffle forward.  As she did, other slaves paused in their chores and began to wander over.  The slaves all kept a respectable distance, but were drawn by a morbid curiosity.

 As the slave approached Belle, Belle nodded and motioned to the door.  ‘After you,’

 The slave hardened, and held up a collar in her hand.  She pushed it at Belle.

 Belle fanned her hands refusing, and motioned to the door.  ‘You.’

 The slave pushed the collar at Belle, almost hitting her with it, but Belle shifted back, afraid to touch it, before looking at the slave and conceding.  She swallowed a little nervously, then carefully took the collar.

 With a sigh, Belle accepted her mission.  She looked up at the security dome and waved the collar.

 Reese glanced at the women gathered.  Their eyes were focused on the collar in Belle’s hand.

 Locks shifted with a deep clack, and the doors slowly opened.

 Squinting as the hall filled with day light, Belle waved at Reese.  ‘Come on.’

 They shuffled outside.

 It was a cement paved area, as big as a basketball court.  On the ground were painted footprints lined neatly in rows and columns.  Reese recognized it as parade deck for morning formation or physical training; although with her wrists shackled to her belt and a short chain on her ankles, jumping jacks were out of the question.

 It was breezy and cold.  Stepping out, Reese looked up, then slowly turned.   Beyond the cement pad was a flat, treeless, rocky, area, perhaps thirty yards wide, with dried sticks and branches poking up randomly.  Beyond that, the ground sloped away, making a gentle, but rough climb down to the craggy shore of the beach far below.

 And then the ocean.  

 As Reese turned right, she could see the massive concrete building they had emerged from.  It was windowless, austere, and over engineered.  It was abutted up against the hill which continued up, making the building seem as if grew out the side of the rocky knoll.

 “Mmm!”  Belle called her attention.  She led her over to the edge of the cement pad.  As she neared the edge, she slowed, and seemed hesitant.  She paused, and pointed with the collar.  ‘Stand there.’

 Reese glanced back.  She still had an audience.

 The women were terrified, but couldn’t look away.

 “Mmm!”  Belle called.

 She was standing at the edge of the pad, her eyes filled with fear and dread.  She shifted the collar to her left hand which was tight against her belt to give her right hand as much slack as possible.  She then raised her chin and touched the collar on her neck.  ‘See this?’  She then clumsily took the collar from her left hand and held it up.  ‘Same collar.’  She motioned.  ‘Same one you wear.’

 Reese glanced back at her terrified audience, then back to Belle.  ‘Uh, yeah?’  She nodded.

 Belle lowered her stance and spread her feet as wide as they could go in her ankle chains.  She took a breath to psyche her self up.  She made a little practice throw to make sure her arm would not get caught up in her chain.

 ‘Ah, shit.’  Reese thought grimly as she felt everyone’s fear.

 Belle shifted hard and clumsily, and flung the collar away.

 It sailed in the air, maybe ten feet, before it exploded.

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Copyrighted 10/2026 all rights reserved
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