“Good. Now follow me. Keep your hands on your head.” He turned and walked out through the still-opened door. Krissy sighed inwardly and followed after him. What else could she do? Anyway, the chance to soak in a nice, hot bath sounded very appealing.
Her cell appeared to be one of many set along either wall of a wide corridor. Most of the doors were shut, but a few stood open. She risked quick glances inside of them as she passed by, but there was no one in them, and the interiors appeared to be identical to the one she was kept in. The corridor walls were cinderblock, painted light gray, the floor was covered with thin, cheap carpeting and the ceiling was acoustic tile with recessed lighting. Not much had been spent to decorate the place.
She followed the man down the corridor and around a corner into another, identical corridor that ended at some solid double doors which swung open silently at their approach. The man kept going, stopping before another set of solid double doors and waiting for Krissy to catch up. Once she did, the doors they had just passed through swung shut and the other pair swung open, letting in warm, damp air that smelled of soap and shampoo. The room that they entered was much bigger than Krissy had expected. The floor was tiled, pink and white in a checkerboard pattern, and she could see several large sunken bathtubs set along the walls to either side. Three of the tubs were occupied by young women who were just as naked as she was, but she didn’t try to get a better look at any of them. As ‘Master’ led her over to an empty tub she glanced quickly around to get a better idea of what the ‘baths’ were like.
The room was not only bigger than a three-car garage, it was at least two stories high, with a roof arching up even higher than that. There was some sort of cupola at the peak, with long, narrow windows that let in some sunlight. She could also see some sort of gallery running around the room at what would be the second floor level.
“Over here,” ‘Master’ called out, and Krissy realized that she had been staring up at the sunlight. She went over to him and saw that he was pointing at the empty tub. It was clear that she was supposed to get into it. She didn’t want to try it with her hands on her head, so she looked at ‘Master’, focusing on his chin, and tried to look as if she wanted to ask a question.
“Yes, you can put your hands down now,” he responded. “Get in.” Krissy obeyed. The porcelain tub felt oddly warm, as if someone had just finished a bath and drained the tub, but the tub was completely dry. Was it heated from below? It was big enough to fit two people easily, three if they didn’t mind crowding, and the fixtures were all set in the middle of the long side of the tub nearest the wall. She settled herself in and waited.
“Run the bath yourself, Krissy,” ‘Master’ said. “As hot as you want, as deep as you want. Someone will bring you the accessories soon.”
“Accessories, Master?” Krissy asked without looking up at him.
“I’ll be back for you in an hour,” was all he said before he turned on his heel and started to leave. “Remember,” he called back over his shoulder. “No talking.” Then he was gone out through the automatic double doors. Krissy busied herself with learning how this tub worked. The cold water came out very cold, and the hot water came out very hot almost immediately. She fiddled with the taps until she found a temperature that she liked and leaned back to relax as the water rose around her. As big as the tub was, it seemed to be filling rapidly.
It was tempting simply to lie there and luxuriate in the feel of something as ordinary as clean hot water. The only kind of bathing the bikers had offered her was being hosed down outside with chilly well water. But curiosity was a much greater temptation. Krissy slid down until she could just peer over the rim of the tub and looked around furtively. The other three women in here all seemed to be doing the same thing. She could see that one of the women had dark hair and dark eyes, another had what seemed to be medium-brown hair and, maybe, light brown or hazel eyes, and the third was a pale redhead with what could only be described as crazy eyes. She couldn’t see enough of any of their faces to be sure of recognizing them if she ever met them again…except maybe for the redhead. She would recognize those eyes anywhere. She closed her own eyes and let herself slide down even further until the wonderful warm water was nearly touching her lower lip.
“Miss?” It was a woman’s voice, so close that Krissy sat up with a startled yelp and scrabbled against the far side of the tub. For the past terrible days, a woman’s voice almost in her ear was a thing to dread. It was usually the only warning she had of imminent abuse, pain and humiliation. Pressed up against the porcelain, she looked up fearfully. She saw a very young woman crouching next to the tub. She was as naked as Krissy was, with bright, heavy chains around her neck, wrists and ankles. Her hair was no more than a pale, spiky stubble on her head. She was holding a large round tray full of colorful plastic squeeze bottles.
“I’m sorry,” the girl apologized. “I brought oils and soaps and lotions. Please choose what you like, but do not speak to me.” As Krissy warily edged towards her, the girl smiled wanly. “Please, take your time,” she said reassuringly. “It is perfectly safe.”
Whoever the girl was, she was obviously another inmate here. Krissy took a deep breath as her heartbeat slowly returned to normal and looked more closely at the bottles. They were all of different colors, but none of them were labeled. She looked up at the girl, one eyebrow raised.
“I do not know what is in any of the bottles,” the girl shook her head. “You must find out for yourself.” She held the tray closer to Krissy. As she moved, Krissy saw that her pussy was shaved bare and hastily looked somewhere else.
“My name is Wendy,” the girl whispered faintly. “Yours?”
“Krissy,” Krissy replied in just as faint a whisper as she opened one bottle and held it close to her nose for a sniff. It smelled of strawberries. She carefully spilled a drop onto her hand. The liquid was thick and clear. All that told her was that it could be either soap or shampoo. She screwed the cap back on, set the bottle onto the floor next to the tub and selected another bottle.
“Yes, that’s it, take your time and find something that you like,” Wendy smiled and nodded. Krissy chose another bottle. “Where are we?” she asked, her voice barely audible. From Wendy’s actions, it was clear that they were probably being watched, but if she only spoke when she was holding a bottle under her nose, no one would see her lips moving.
“I don’t know,” Wendy answered. Krissy went on inspecting bottles. There were only about a dozen of them, so she went slowly and the conversation had long gaps between questions and answers.
“What is this place?” Krissy asked.
“A training facility, I think.”
“Training?”
“For sex slaves. I’m sorry.”
Krissy shuddered, even though she’d been expecting that answer. “Are you…?” She let the question trail off.
“Yes, but I belong to this facility,” Wendy said. “I never leave this place.”
“Will I?” Krissy asked.
“Yes. The man who brought you here calls himself Gabriel. He is a buyer.”
“A buyer?”
“Of women. I think you have been sold already.”
“Oh, fuck!” Krissy snapped, too loudly. She quickly tried to cover by putting the bottle she’d been inspecting well off to the side, as if she didn’t care for the contents at all. “What will happen to me?” she whispered.
“You will be trained here. When that is done, they will take you away.”
“You’ve seen it before.”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
Krissy had come to the last bottle. It was some kind of bath oil. She chose it, and two other bottles that she felt sure were liquid soap and scented shampoo respectively. Wendy gathered up the remaining bottles on her tray, rose gracefully to her feet, and left without another word, whispered or otherwise. Krissy couldn’t help watching. Wendy was young and slender, with small, conical breasts and a beautifully rounded little ass: Just the way she’d always liked them. But while all of that was on display for her, none of it was available. She turned her thoughts away from what was available to her and set about the business of cleaning herself. No matter how many baths they would let her take, no matter how many soaps and creams and oils they would let her use, she didn’t think that she would ever feel truly clean again. But there was nothing wrong with her trying to feel as clean as she could in the meantime. There was no washcloth, no brush, nothing, so she had to use just her hands. It was still far better than being sprayed with cold water from a garden hose outside with men and women listening to her beg and plead for it to be over.
Shampooing presented its own problems. She wet her hair by holding her breath and letting herself sink under the water, running her fingers through her hair to clear any tangles. Sitting back up, she worked the shampoo into her hair vigorously until foam dripped onto her neck and shoulders. When she was satisfied with her work, she ducked under the water again. It wouldn’t be enough of a rinse, but it was a good start. She sat quietly in the tub for a moment and then opened the drain. When the tub was half empty, she fiddled with the taps again to adjust the temperature before she stuck her head under the flow. The foam that fell into the tub was an off-whitish shade. She tried not to think of all the things besides ordinary dirt that were mixed in with it, and kept on rinsing until all she could see dripping from her hair was clear water. She rinsed her body off afterwards as best she could, using her hands to reach the parts that wouldn’t fit under the tap. She let the last of the water swirl out before closing the drain and letting the tub fill up again, with hotter water this time. It would help soothe all her sore spots, at least for a while.
When Wendy came back with a comb, a hairbrush and a pile of thick, fluffy white towels, Krissy knew that her time was almost up. Wendy said nothing as she gathered up the three bottles Krissy had used, which suited Krissy, who didn’t feel like talking anyway, even in furtive whispers. She treated herself to watching Wendy walk away again before she resigned herself to the inevitable and opened the drain. She sat quietly until the very last of the water was gone.
Drying her hair wasn’t easy. It was very thick. Before, she’d always used an electric hair dryer, but she supposed that handing those out here might prompt some woman to drop it into the water with her in an attempt at suicide. So, she did the best she could with the comb and the brush and two of the towels. It would have helped to have a mirror, but Wendy hadn’t brought one of those. That was more of an annoyance than a problem, since her hair was straight and fell naturally into two blonde wings framing her face. Anyway, she didn’t really want to try and make herself look nice for anyone here. Fuck them. Sooner or later they’d be fucking her anyway.
“You are finished.”
Krissy jumped. Men’s voices close behind her had meant nothing but degradation and rough use just as the raspy, cackling voices of the biker gang’s women had meant pain and humiliation. She turned to face Gabriel, fighting the urge to cover herself with her hands. “Yes, Master,” she said.
“Hands on your head,” he ordered. “And follow me. I have learned more about you and I am eager to begin your training, you little blonde bitch.”
“Yes, Master,” Krissy said, but he had already turned to go out of the baths before she had finished speaking. Clasping her hands together on her head, she had to hurry to catch up to him. The movement made her breasts jiggle heavily, and she hated the feeling. Well, at least she’d had a chance to clean herself up. She was sure that her training, whatever it entailed, would get her dirty again.